Razorback Ridge Villain

For @Rhys, and anyone interested in Duskvale! :)

Warbone had felled a sheep an hour ago. He'd eaten very little of it— only enough to slack the gluttonous growling of his stomach— and now lay napping, drained and bloody, some yards away from the carcass. He no longer paid any mind to the flock of crows that had come to partake in the free meal, though the murderous lot were not quiet about their presence; a raucous symphony of cawing seemed to fill the space, but no more than the pungent scent of gore-spill did. Warbone found it soothing, reminding him of a day and age he had only care for himself, when decisions had been infinitely easier to make.

His one eye fluttered open, imagining that he heard something beneath the jostling of the black birds, and he glanced at the rolling gray sky. A rainstorm on its way.