if i'm living, it's inside a hollow shell

Every night was the same. He couldn't sleep, so he went out on a hunt. Every night since the crystals broke free from his eyes, the ooze stopped, and the intrusive thoughts left, he needed to get some of his problems out. Better on some kind of food than a pack member he snaps at, anyway. It wore him out though and that was what he really needed. Something to help him sleep at night, even through the horrible dreams forcing him to relive every painful moment as he was held underneath the water by some unseen force. He couldn't even relish in the thought of Malachai saving him without suffering through the rest of the haunting memory.

If it was anything that helped him just simply think of anything else, it was killing. Through the infection and even now he was keeping the stores full for those that needed it most. With many infected wolves, he did what he could to help until he could no longer be of any use either. Perhaps it was the constant hunting before his infection that calmed him now after, brought him peace when he needed it most.

He was thankful to not have to even leave the Armada when he caught a trail of a passing deer. It was hovering on the edge of the border, likely assuming to be safe in the quiet of the night. How wrong it was. He trailed the deer for some time before it settled at the edge of a small creek for a drink. Grimshaw hunkered down in the tall grass, flattening his ears as he spied on the buck. This could be a quick and easy kill for him, however he wanted something more fun.

"Speech."