Hoshor Plains I drink to the last friggin' drop.

He did not recognize the stilt-legged thing as friend or prey, at first. Reyes wasn't entirely sure what he looked at: a deer? No, it had no horns and this was the time of the rut, so either it was a sickly doe or a badly timed stag who'd lost his crown.

A rabbit hung from sharp teeth. That made him do a double-take, and then he scoffed. A wolf, then. Some sickly stilted thing. Aye, whatchyou got there?

Why not just eat it? Reyes would've taken it from him if possible, but he wasn't ready to jolt himself in to a run just yet. He saw the wagging of a tail and slowed his crawl to a halt. I could use a bite.