Phoenix Maplewood and with that timber, burn a hundred fires

The girl had been an easy kill. In fact, he was sure he had battled badgers who put up a better fight, and left more scars. Admittedly, she had been no contest to his titan frame and had no chance to begin with once his boa-like jaws constricted around her neck. Pitiful, he sneers lowly to only himself. It was as if his month of living like a tibetan monk taught him no lesson, made no corrections to better his moral compass. It was as if he suddenly remembered who he was, who he came from and from where. Blackfeather Woods meant nothing more to him now than a pathetic pile of ruins would, but its values were instilled within the fabric of his being until the end of time, and that was not something he could change, evidently. To pretend otherwise was not something that earned him any awards nor benefitted him in any capacity. At least, he felt he had matured enough to have some sense about what he was doing; to not charge foolheartedly into old habits without rationality.

However, his next actions did not display the level of intellectual awareness Vaati believed he had ascended to, but the reckless impulsivity that rewarded him with the piece of scarred-over flesh missing from his neck. He chomped down right on her butt. Not that he was kinky like that, but because… well, he didn’t really have a reason other than he knew her to be his next kill and he made do with what he was given. Whether or not she realized that his ambitions were to murder her was another story.