Qeya River Sing for the hill

Sheep Killer was the name that he had been given. A name which, in comparison to “Sun Eater,” could very well have been a mockery of his character. It took so little effort to kill a sheep, after all. It took more strength to restrain himself from slaying an entire flock than it did to actually kill them. A sheep killer was no more threatening than a squirrel killer, or a rabbit killer. He’d heard the term before- except it had been used to describe him as something entirely different. 

A liability.

He dreamt of sheep- of herds so fast that the animals appeared to move as if in a murmuration. Slow animals, prone to panic. Easy to slay, and yet exciting to herd nonetheless because they moved as one- as one, mindless organism fuelled with fear. 

He awoke just as the gunshot echoed through his dreams. 

He dug up a rabbit he’d stashed before the raid, and shook some of the loose earth off it, wincing as the scabbing wounds at his shoulder pulled and seeped. He carried the pitiful meal, tracking @Senka down by her scent, to the cavern where she had been keeping herself secluded. 

Sun Eater’s scent was present; it made Ksura scowl lightly.