Lost Creek Hollow dry-aged wagyu

The stag was old and alone. It's gait had a habit of listing to the right. To compensate, it would tilt its head the other way and stumble about, as if drunk. A single raven had caught sight of it days ago and begun to follow, which was how she knew of it; but nothing else came to bother the creature.
Keeping low and slow now, as she was very close, Skuka could see that the brown hide of the creature was closer to a sepia tone, with scattered gray hairs tufting in places. She could not see anything broken about his body.
Still, this was not a beast worth eating.
It will not be long now, Old One. The sound of her voice brought a spark of awareness to the stag, and it looked up, and its ears fluttered; they locked eyes and Skuka saw the haze of cataracts across his vision.