Lone Star Mountain just a stoic statue, fit for a nobody

ezra, unaware of what was going on behind the scenes: out of his vision and quietly scuffled and thus wholly out of his mind, focuses on the nest. his mother dispatched the bird and he goes for the eggs. for a moment as he stares at the four eggs nestled in the nest of debris crafted lovingly he considers devouring them.

it was a wild moment. a selfish moment driven by a spike of adrenaline and a soft but quick intake of breath.

he does not act on that impulse.

instead, he gathers them in his mouth and gingerly carries the delicacies back to where his mother waited, sitting them down beside the bird carcass.

it was not a feast fit for a queen ... but it would sate the worst of the hunger.

i vill eat after you. it is soft but a command none the less; fixing his mother with a stubborn glint that spoke that he would not be swayed from his decision.