Hoshor Plains Oh, we said our dreams will carry us

Is @Laqikki ready for a thread?? :D

The sky was cloudy, the grey kind of cloudy that darkened the spirits of the living and left that eeriness lingering around. It was so cold. It was not a good day in the Plains. The herds had retreated once again to find shelter around the most vegetated areas of the land and so the Khalas had moved along to do their work.

A golden eagle was feeding from the remains of the last Dotharan kill. A young bull, he'd given good fight, but the Khalas had just been better. Rakharo himself had been the one to take the last strike, ending the young life. It was a pitty having to take such young individuals, but that had been the one stupid enough to separate from the herd. Stupidity led to death, and the Khalas needed to protect the herd from stupid individuals.

From the distance, the golden Khal watched lying down how the eagle stripped out chunks of meat from the carcass with its sharp beak. It was strange to think that such a magnificent species would reduce themselves to scavenging, just like coyotes...