Fox's Glade a lotta men didn't; a lotta men died

Remy grinned approvingly as Grayday beat the small animal. He was so entranced by the graceful act that he nearly missed the last fox's retreat, though he was lucky enough to have regained his attention in time to snatch the critter by the tail and lift it into the air. A harsh bat was made at his face creating a tiny laceration on his cheek, at which point Remy dropped the beast and watched it run a few feet ahead. He stood and made for the meal, grabbing it by the neck and shaking his head as hard as he could. There were a few snaps here and there, telling him that he'd succeeded. Nice job, he told Grayday with a smirk written on his maw.