Moonspear titles are hard ok

Her instructions were beheld with such focus one might've thought Tye was speaking with a goddess; he didn't want to screw up, and he knew he needed to keep the details of her instruction fresh in his mind. It had become harder and harder lately for him to remember things; it must have been a by-product of the famine. Without fresh meat for his belly he'd never get better. He nodded as she explained what he was to do, and then once there was silence he bowed and slunk from her side, taking the initiative to begin the work quickly. He hurried about and gathered what he could—chunks mostly, the taste of each part making him nauseous over and over again, but he kept himself composed long enough to pile them together and then to begin digging. It would take time, and his thin-to-nonexistent muscle would scream to him after, but he'd dig a fresh pit for the remains.