Fairspell Meadow The Count

For the first time in his life, Corvus was completely alone. Though he wasn't one to stay depressed about anything, it was a difficult adjustment. The sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, and rain drizzled down lightly from the grey clouds above. The water rolled off his back as he walked at a steady clip. He gave little care, as with most things. However, something he did care about was filling his stomach.

Fortunately for him, this meadow was fruitful today. He spotted a small herd of does with their fawns, and he licked his lips. Breaking into a trot, he smoothly approached the herd with a particular fawn in his sights. He shifted to a lope once he neared, and he was soon spotted, but it didn't matter. Though the fawns were larger and stronger now, they were still no match for him. Corvus picked up his pace and quickly caught up to his target. His jaws clamped down on its hind leg, easily snapping it and causing it to fall to the ground. His wicked teeth then moved for its throat, and he became engrossed in the act of strangling the creature. The taste of blood was refreshing on his palate. He was in bliss.