Haunting

Enrico moved through the hushed oak forest with a swift gait, sparing no attention for the majesty of his surroundings. He was a man on a mission, the heavy body of a peahen dangling from his jaws making it clear what that mission was. He had chosen to den within the massive trunk of a dead oak for now, and he was on his way there. The peahen's blood on his tongue made his mouth water, but he didn't want to stop here to satiate his hunger. The feathers would make far too comfortable a lining for his den to pass up the chance by plucking the bird anywhere but his temporary home.

The blood and feathers tickling his nose dulled his sense of smell, so Enrico was hyper vigilant to avoid being taken by surprise if an enemy appeared. The longer he went on this continent without seeing any signs of the red brothers, the more relaxed and, conversely, more apprehensive he became about his apparent safety here. It wouldn't do to become lackadaisical about his security only to find that he had been tracked down here.