Haunted Wood i made your father scream

Sound erupted from him a few times, not that Revui paid attention to the value of the words or their meanings, not until the boy spurned physical contact and limped a safe distance from his reach. The boy hadn't fought him for the bird (which was pathetic), and he chose flight instead of fight (which was disappointing); so to his words Revui grunted, letting his probing hind foot relax against the dirt.

He licked his lips, savouring the taste of the bird after-the-fact, but kept his eyes on his pit-mate. You weren't eating it. He commented obtusely. They waste energy to hunt. We eat, we heal. Then, we hunt them. It was a simple plan, outlined in a single low rumbling breath. Revui was confident in himself and it showed by the way he nonchalantly began to pick the gristle from between his canines, indifferent.