Moonspear And I water'd it in fears

It was early in the day, bright and clear, and while hunting around for a den to hole himself up in for the high-sun afternoon, Kavos ran into a badger's set. Forgetting his task, he followed the foreign scent until he came across the stout, monochromatic mini-bear, and wound up fighting a fight that might've gone worse if he'd had less experience hunting beasts that outclassed him. Instinct kept him away from predators not his own kind— like bobcats, pumas, and bears— but his prey drive typically bound him to go after everything else. Mostly things that were smaller than him, but sometimes the preyscent was too strong to ignore, and he'd wind up fruitlessly charging after deer or moose— neither of which he had enough skill to take down on his own.

His interest in the badger had originally been in being unable to ascertain what the omnivore was. It smelled like both predator and prey, and when he got too near it, the mustelidae attacked Kavos without further provocation. But when the fight was over— and he was panting, bleeding steadily at the base of his left shoulder— having tasted the creature, he knew times would need to be quite desperate before he hunted one of these again.