Too Much To Think

His night-time walks were becoming less and less frequent, but the nights he needed them seemed to go on much longer. It wasn’t until the sky had gone from pitch black to royal purple that he realized how long he had been out, and it wasn’t until he heard the distant roar of waterfalls that he realized how far he had gone from The Maw. He approached the twin waterfalls with his mind still reeling and watched as flows of ice tumbled over the edges of the falls and crashed into the sea. It reminded him of something he really didn’t want to think about, something he had spent all night trying specifically not to think about.
He sat on the edge of the canyon the falls had no doubt formed after millions of years of flowing undisturbed and looked down at the squalling birds with contempt as the waddled over the smooth stones with their saber shaped wings outstretched.  His half blind eyes narrowed as he watched the idiot things, he was no hunter and the fact that they  might evade him only made him angrier. He puffed and sneezed furiously before charging down the canyon walls, all but dropping in the middle of the stinking birds which shrieked with panic and attempted to scramble to the water. Hat mattered to Ruthgar was that they were slow enough on land to be caught and once he had his jaws around the lower back of one, he tore into it mercilessly, tossing mouthfuls of pin-shaped feathers and blood as it squealed and shrieked in pain. “Fook this bard!” He thought rabidly “’N fook Isis! ‘N fook Orsus! FOOK ‘EM AWL!”

He stepped away from the ravaged carcass, his tongue lulling out of his mouth, feathers glued to his cheeks with blood. He would never do anything remotely close to this when any of The Crew were around, and he whole heartedly refused to let the pack that he was coming to love take the brunt of his frustration, but he still found himself needing to vent, somehow. The rest of the penguins were gone but he had only really needed the one. His haunches sank to the earth as he panted, tired from reducing the bird to nothing but scattered chunks of uneaten gore. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the last of his anger thankfully leaving him.

This is him talking This is him thinking