Post by Lonestar on Mar 14, 2010 12:35:31 GMT -5
Jowls unhinged and body pulls away a step as the dying breath was released from the hunted creature. Maw littered with plasma, jade gaze sweeps over the job, a satisified nod coming from the lord although none were around to see it. It was probably better this way, the male's loneliness. Stalking with others involved a more complicated process, one which required more teamwork than any individual skill and as he was not exacally what one could call a social wolf, having to rely on others to obtain a meal one wished to have was not particularly appealing although, at times it could be tollerated. This seemed to matter little, however, for none ever offered to hunt alongside the drake nor did he extend an invitation to any. He had been told that pack hunts were a traditional form of bonding, but this thought was pretty much dismissed. There was no pack for himself to form a connection with, not any longer. It had wasted away as his resolve to keep it dimished and he had eagerly left the lands of his brother. Dome lowered again to the carcass, a strong hold being taken by knives as they dived into the flesh, spilling more crimson upon the silvery hued coat while canines spilt the hyde easily. Lifting crown to examine his work, the bloke then picked out which part of the carcass he would choose to eat, manovering himself until stature towered over the rump, ribbon flicking out of maw to run quickly over kissers, gathering some of the plasma that clung to whiskers there. Again the lord tore into his kill, seperating the skin from the meat and tearing back the hair covered flap for he did not enjoy stray strands aggravating his gums while he ate his meals. Leggings folded as a considerable sized chuck was detached from the main body, razors ripping smaller sections off to toss them back into his gullet while daggers clung to the larger section, holding it still for his purposes. Slowly, the baron ate his fill, rising from the earth's crust with a soft grunt and turning his back upon the meal, started off in the direction of the bubbling stream lobes heard not too far off. The caribou was left for vultures and other sorts of scavengers to feast from. Perhaps even one of his own kind would even stumble across the deserted, decaying creature and gather their sustinance from it. He cared little for what became of the dead. It would eventually return to the ground from which it had taken its own fodder and become meals for its own kind, just as it was intended to do.