It was a curious act for the Ancient to commit to observation instead of partaking in the hunt itself. How very odd. The younger hunter’s killing blade swung easily and competently from what Royal could tell and that was something even the Ancient himself had yet to master. At least the huntsman had a knack for it. Royal could commend him for that in spades. Perhaps even envied him for it on an intellectual level. He just preferred the ease of the shift and the satisfaction of clutching up his kills in his talons alone. It was simply in the name of personal preference.
Even as the wolves were given their due and the hunter himself began skinning his catch, Royal stuck around to watch with equal parts fascination and desire. The man and his wolves operated similarly to a pack, which was something he also found alluring given a crow’s tendency to operate in a murder as well. He did so long to meet others who shared his particular appetite… but he’d yet to meet another gore crow in his very minor travels. He assumed it was that very vagrant nature of his that kept him solitary.
As he pondered it at length, momentarily distracted, he was pleasantly surprised (or rather sharply mystified) when the young hunter extended a portion of his kill to the crow. In what strange world did he operate? Was it due to his pack-like mentality? It was something he certainly intended to deliberate at a later time when his hindbrain wasn’t so… impulsive.
Like the scavenger he was, Royal dropped easily from the limb upon which he perched to snatch up the offering with gusto. He’d had no real intention of shifting back and thereby decided his thanks was more appropriately squawked vehemently into the crisp afternoon draft. He eyed the man and his pair of wolf companions as he hungrily pecked away strips of meat from the narrow leg bone. Selfish as he tended to want to be, he was not a creature who carried debts willingly. An eye for an eye and the like. This debt would need to be repaid like any other. Of that, Royal was persistent.
So, with little fanfare, he took to the skies again, pushing furiously into the densely cold pockets of wind it took to raise a creature of his size. The world was so very quiet high above Caido. It was like driving through a blanket of silence even as the gales of winter threatened past him, roaring their disdain. As the ground blurred heavily beneath him, he listened intently while dropping to sail easily just above the forest treetops in search of new prey.
When it presented itself some yards ahead, he stretched out the long length of his wings to soar closer toward the beckoning grounds of chaotic underbrush. From within the barren brambles he could see another hare bundled nervously beneath a corpse-like berry bush. It did little to hide the creature and when Royal went diving down toward it, it drove the hare back the way he’d come and straight toward his newly acquired hunter friend.
Sah
Even as the wolves were given their due and the hunter himself began skinning his catch, Royal stuck around to watch with equal parts fascination and desire. The man and his wolves operated similarly to a pack, which was something he also found alluring given a crow’s tendency to operate in a murder as well. He did so long to meet others who shared his particular appetite… but he’d yet to meet another gore crow in his very minor travels. He assumed it was that very vagrant nature of his that kept him solitary.
As he pondered it at length, momentarily distracted, he was pleasantly surprised (or rather sharply mystified) when the young hunter extended a portion of his kill to the crow. In what strange world did he operate? Was it due to his pack-like mentality? It was something he certainly intended to deliberate at a later time when his hindbrain wasn’t so… impulsive.
Like the scavenger he was, Royal dropped easily from the limb upon which he perched to snatch up the offering with gusto. He’d had no real intention of shifting back and thereby decided his thanks was more appropriately squawked vehemently into the crisp afternoon draft. He eyed the man and his pair of wolf companions as he hungrily pecked away strips of meat from the narrow leg bone. Selfish as he tended to want to be, he was not a creature who carried debts willingly. An eye for an eye and the like. This debt would need to be repaid like any other. Of that, Royal was persistent.
So, with little fanfare, he took to the skies again, pushing furiously into the densely cold pockets of wind it took to raise a creature of his size. The world was so very quiet high above Caido. It was like driving through a blanket of silence even as the gales of winter threatened past him, roaring their disdain. As the ground blurred heavily beneath him, he listened intently while dropping to sail easily just above the forest treetops in search of new prey.
When it presented itself some yards ahead, he stretched out the long length of his wings to soar closer toward the beckoning grounds of chaotic underbrush. From within the barren brambles he could see another hare bundled nervously beneath a corpse-like berry bush. It did little to hide the creature and when Royal went diving down toward it, it drove the hare back the way he’d come and straight toward his newly acquired hunter friend.
Royal
motherfucker, you can try artificial suicide
