Redhawk Caldera Although it hurts me so

AW!

Hotah settled near the edge of the caldera, the frost-dulled grass pressed flat beneath his weight. A small bird lay between his paws, feathers still warm. He worked with practiced care, stripping the plumage clean and quick, movements efficient and unshowy.

His thoughts stayed quiet as he worked. Hunt. Clean. Prepare. Simple things, done well.

When the last feathers were set aside, he paused, lifting his head to scan the slopes before returning to the task, readying the small kill to be brought back.