Iktome Plains wuskripa

we thank You for Your sacrifice of Your creation.

he found no pleasure in what came next, teeth moved from wing to neck. a snap, a well of crimson in his mouth. it drenched and darkened the highlights of his fur.

he felt every bit of a barbarian — but swiftly reminded himself that this was for a cause. there was nothing more pious than feeding the hungry.

he looked to her. both of them bloodstained, a dusting of feathers surrounded them.

will you let me pray over your meal, hunter?