Stone Circle turn off your porcelain face

The sound of distant snarls was more than enough to alert the juvenile of his inevitable demise. He didn't have to turn his head to know who or what was coming—it didn't matter. Sooner or later he would be put to rest, whether it be ripped flesh from bone and lay bare within the snow, or to ultimately succumb to his starving body. He was just glad it would be within the confines of his birthplace.

Swallowing his dry throat, the stocky-legged boy stopped mid-step and turned to face his savior with an unwavering, olive gaze. He did not cower before them, nor did he part his lips in aggression and utter any words. He merely stood, silent and unwavering like a child's toy as they neared closer.