Mount Apikuni it's not my time, my soul ain't yours to take

tagging @Asperas!

worripa's quickly lost count of how many days it's been since he slipped out of rivenwood's borders like a thief in the night — without any consideration or regard for those that loved him and likely would worry about what has happened to him ( a page no doubt taken from his mother's book ) ; irregardless, he knows it's been days. a judgement made by the predictable cycle of the new day(s) dawning and the rumble of his stomach.

there was a reason he was kept away from the borders: for the dangers that wandered outside, for the fact that while he could kind of hunt, he was far from being capable of taking care of himself.

the war reaper's effectively blocked out any of those warnings. he is a beastling ruled by wrath and instinct and the restless energy of the commander.

he is drawn towards a clustering copse of trees; not for the shade but for the half rotten corpse — of a deer he would assume but he can't find it in himself to care. it is meat and with the exception of the flies that occupy it like the pests they were: it was his.

he tears at and gulps the meat down without second consideration; eager to fill his belly with his find though it has long since lost the appeal of when it had been fresh.