Moonspear maybe in time

Guilt jolted through him like a strike of lighting. The tall dark yearling felt his limbs stiffen and his heart rate increase as he looked on the face of his younger brother. The boy had been so proud of his catch before Atlas had approached and spoiled his fun. The shade berated himself internally for having not congratulated Altair on his swift reflexes and keen eye. He should have celebrated the victory that was his younger brother finding success in his first catch. Instead, he had tried to share what he felt was important; they killed to eat and to sustain their family, not so that they could revel in taking another life.
 
“One of my first hunts on my own, I found a fawn with its mother,” he explained, voice solemn but not lacking in care for the message he was trying to convey. “I frightened the mother and circled the fawn before making my attack. It fell almost immediately. Eyes wide, it just… fell to the ground and lay there.”
 
When the sunlight glow of his eyes searched the younger boy’s features, he offered a smile before he continued and shared one of his more humiliating hunting experiences. “I thought I’d accomplished what I needed and turned to search the area. When I glanced back, the fawn had jumped up and raced into the woods to find its mother,” Atlas chuckled and shook his head. He had assumed that he’d done all he needed to do and had lost the meal he’d tracked for hours. All it would have taken is a simple precaution to make sure the prey animal had been dead, and he would have fed well.
 
“Some things serve two purposes, is all. You ensure your prey cannot deceive you by ending it swiftly and… in cases like this one, you cease the cries of your target so you do not have to listen to it beg for life,” the inkwell yearling explained in a soft voice. He did not know if he was making sense to the child, but he did not want the experience to be a dismal one.
 
“You’ve done a great job. Would you like to take that back to show mom?”