a misstep could mean his death, and yet lasher was unafraid, warmed through by the delicious singing tension of the chase through his body, and the sudden burning hunger in his veins. a shove against the shale with bunched hindquarters allowed the earthen man a new burst of speed, and with this he swung his head low and snapped.
he surfaced with the coney swinging from grinning jaws, but lasher would not cause it suffering; he snuffed out its life quickly, and plucked the choicest cuts of meat from its tiny body with a ravenous savagery. it was not for several moment that lasher looked about himself, and when he finally was roused to do so, murky eyes met the cold, calm fire-gaze of his jetfurred watcher. lasher did not stir, nor did he challenge; the man wore the look of tonravik, and so the he would do well to respect this man with witch's blood.