"Do you still have the remnants of the prey that you've eaten earlier?"
"I threw them by the riverside. It was still there earlier. Why?" Parker threw a strange glaze at her, wondering what one could do with the remnants.
"You want to drink bone soup?"
"No, I just recalled that you don't eat the hooves, and I'm thinking of braising hooves to eat. If that prey's remnants are still around, then we can just cook them."
Parker's mouth twitched. "I had always felt that my mother's preference for food when she was pregnant was strange, but I didn't expect that yours is even more strange. To be honest, I haven't seen anyone eating the hooves from their hunts before."
Even aged beastmen starving to death would only chew on the bones that others threw away after eating. No one would chew on the hooves. Some animals' legs could be eaten, but hooves were just a few pieces of tough shells. They were probably inedible even if they were cooked.
