Kintla Flatlands dies irae, dies illa

the rabbit screamed as they seized upon it.

a quick scream, though, cut off by the neat little snap of its vertebrae separating; haruspex knew what they were about. they stood, chest heaving, silent for an instant, the hare hanging limp from their jaws.

then, they set it upon the plains, and set to work. carefully prying open the furry abdomen, fangs drawing a slightly jagged slit from ribs to privates.

guts rising before them, steaming on the air, even on a tepid late summer day.

haruspex clutched the rabbit by its nape once more and shook it with care, rhythmically, letting the entrails fly wherever they should go. blood flecked their muzzle; their eyes were shut tight against the spatter, and did not open again until the body felt much lighter and nothing more was to be found.

the corpse, they set aside with care. but their eyes were only for the intestines, looping, whorling, spilling out upon the ground.

they slithered toward the northeast. hawkish eyes rose in that direction, surveyed the horizon, broken up by tall, angular crags.

mountains. so be it.

haruspex took a deep breath, their shoulders rising, slowly, then falling again. time to eat.