Porcupine Ridge artemis

Envy enjoyed the taste in her mouth, enjoyed listening as the final rattling breaths sounded from the maw of a beast eaten alive. There was nothing to be gleamed from its eyes, she had punctured those; eager to have felt the squirm of one subjected to such a thing.

It was a goat, and so her little sadisms were acceptable here, masked beneath the task of a hunt.

When they did pile onto it, spilled enough blood that their prey ran cold, she too would join in indulging in it, no class or grace, just ravenous tunnelling between the ribs. When she had eaten all that she could, she was stained red from head to toe, cloaked in the scent of carrion.

She would need to bathe herself for a few days straight, probably.