Sequoia Coast i've seen finer gods than you, child, and i've swallowed them whole—

Delicacies first, everything else later. The organs are inadequate in the prison of his chops, gliding down his slavering gullet and falling profoundly in his hollow stomach. His stomach lurches uncomfortably. Slow down. Too much too fast. So he does, consuming at a leisured pace.

Rigidity crackles at the spectacle of her. She hangs back, indicating that she may have eaten earlier today. That, or she is pledged. He's appreciative either way, digging into his meal as the coil of mistrust bleeds from him.

Glutted, he withdraws from the cadaver. Blood and gristle glaze his snout. Natjuk approaches sluggishly, stopping some lunges away. Prowess is draped along her pitch body, neither overwhelming or overbearing. Someone who commands presence but does not demand it. Nor does she demand food, blessedly. Does she always let the rapacious feed or is he special? As if to test that, he trudges nearer, halting at the first sign of trouble. His aim is to sniff about her ruff, curious about the intrigues smothered in her pelt.