Barrow Fields the oblong box

Blood eyes fixed on the hunt, of Wealda, his sisters and Lilia. Nipping and snapping at the buck, driving it onwards and away from the herd. He was ready to take his role. What he was not ready for, was when his mother was felled. Dragged and kicked, tossed down into the dirt.

Then he saw the blood. Not of their quarry, but of his Wealda. The world blurred out around him as he charged forward, towards the antlered beast. He didn't hear the roar that escaped his burning lungs. All but hurling himself at the male, brandished teeth clamped down around the side of it's neck. Perhaps nicking the jugular, if he were so lucky.

Blood splattered the white of his fire kissed face, while the animal bellowed. It stumbled again and Relic was relentless, thrashing his head from side to side. Angry red eyes boring holes into the black of his victim. Feeding off it's terror and pain. He was less about the hunt now, and more so, revenge.