Falls of the Hinterlands Your whole life you had an attitude

the night was quiet to baron's sensitive ears, silence only broken by the trickle of the river and wind between the trees. the black barbarian's maw was buried in the innards of a trout, lips smacking as he pulled the meat from its frail bones. he pressed his sharp nails against the tail of the fish, holding it down while ivory teeth ripped at the rotting head.

sure, fish was gross. slimy was the only thing baron could think as he grimaced from the taste, his nose wrinkling at the reek of the day old carcass. however, he wasn't going to turn down a free meal to soothe his stomach. being picky was a fool's choice, and baron didn't have any such option. the wilds here were foreign to him, the territory unknown. he'd willingly ignored the scents of wolves just to get to the decomposing fish. whatever. if anyone were to get up their ass over it, he'd fucking deal with it.

wiping the mucus from his muzzle, his eyes glanced up and he stared at the silver wolf across the water walking aimlessly. ugh. squinting his golden gaze, he stood up and instinctually placed himself over the trout. even if they passed without noticing him, he wasn't going to stand idly by and leave himself open for an attack. he grumbled deep from his throat and straightened his thick neck, black fur standing on edge.