Hideaway Strath There's just Devils and Dust

Artok woke and as par usual he broke into his routine with gentle stretches on the ruined shoulder. Then with a softly uttered oath, he strode forward. Today he would hunt. The caches were pretty filled, but he wanted to make sure they stayed as such throughout his time here, however long or short it would be.

He caught scent of the nearest prey animals. Smelled like fowl. With a determined stride, broken up only sightly by the limp he ran towards the birds. The tiny beady eyed fucker beat it's wings at his face, and he quickly juked to the side, despite the pull. The snag in his shoulder and grasped the bird between teeth and lip and crunched the bones in it's wings. As the creature let out a pitiful wail he strode forward and dispatched it with a quick bite to it's throat. The life blood dripping down his white downy fur.