There was a difference between feeding the pups and eating a kill. Of course, hounds ate their kills all the time, but normally they weren't killing one another. Ziv had not thought about whether or not she would eat a fallen comrade, even if they were completely worthless. Perhaps if she were starving, she might. But Malcoda wasn't starving, and he hadn't actually killed her. Playing with food was more a cat mannerism. Granted, she had not been outside Hades, and at home they threw steaks at you.
"Nemáte hlad, a ja nie som mŕtvy. Prečo by si hrať s jedlom?" she asked him plainly, head cocking slightly. "Mláďat a mačkovité šelmy hrať s jedlom. Nie ste jeden z tých vecí." Perhaps it was something you just did when you were topside. Malcoda seemed to defy everything Ziv had learned in Hades. Suddenly, she found herself curious of his behavior, of his attitude. She had questions to ask him, things she wished to know. Perhaps she could learn what had made him go from being such an asset to the master to being so unnecessary and shameful.