Maybe going to the farm wasn't such a good idea. But Pistol was hungry and desperate for food. In the corner of the last stall lay a young lamb on the verge of death. Though the motherly instinct inside made her heart break from seeing the hurt infant, she had to ignore it. She gripped the woolly neck in her mouth, and with a saddened sigh, she crunched down hard. She felt the lamb go limp in her jaws, and that's when she knew she had taken its life. Peaking her head around the corner, Pistol could see a large beast emerge from its dog house, and head slowly towards the barn. "Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. I'm screwed." She began to panic. She had no back up, and how was she to carry the meal all the way across the town to her "home", an abandoned warehouse, if she was worn out from a battle with a mutt three times her size? She scooted to the corned of the stall, shaking her head in anxiety.