100% Grass-fed

Red hit the brakes quickly as the bull stumbled and fell, so that he didn't get crushed. There it was - the impirtant moment. Once down it was far less likely that the prey could get back up and escape with a hunting party tearing at it every second it was down and struggling its way back up, and this party had not wasted any time before piling in. Red, too, wasted no time. Using the momentum he had barely checked he leaped forward over Wyndelin to land with a thud on the beast's shoulder. With a twist of his head he buried his long fangs into the bison's throat and ripped back, opening vicious arterial wounds, and leaped immediately to the side to avoid its dying convulsions. He did not want to be hit when that thing threw its heavy head back, even with Hattori hanging off its nose. It was dead, even though it clearly hadn't realized it, but even as he watched carefully to make sure none of the strangers got caught up in its thrashing its movements slowed to sporadic, then with a last colossal thrash it stopped. It was sad to see such a magnificent creature reduced to this pitiful hulk of meaf, but their world was what it was, and there was no changing this aspect of it.