Deepwood Weald rising

"no whining from me," the snake teased, rolling to his belly from where he had reclined to await belharra's return. he pawed the grouse toward him with his good paw, tucking it against his chest to begin his meal.

in time, asmodeus sighed pleasantly, licking at the bib of blood smeared across chest and muzzle. he surveyed belharra with a mildly intrigued glint to his matte stare, wondering why their paths had crossed so often.

"did those kids ever claim that forest?" he grunted, thinking of the pale brat that had tried to give him lip.