The fire and the flame

• Makhai Guntram •

Days. Days that felt like weeks he'd gone hungry. Battered and alone the newly rogue male was currently a shell of his former glory cut away from the coalition for no reason of valid tangibility. It was a freak, panicked accident that had split him from his brothers. A heavy huff escaped the mans nostrils causing them to flare slightly. Earthen pelt had become matted, caked with mud and dirt where he'd begun to neglect his grooming routine; and now blood from his fresh kill. Turning his cream chin and throat a beautiful satin red from the hare clenched tightly between his teeth. The feeling of the flesh grasped there causing him to salivate, a knot in his stomach a stalwart reminder of the recent days.

Dual toned eyes cast to the tangle of mangroves, weaving between them from his kill site to find a better; safer place to settle down and enjoy his meal. Stepping over the high roots in a tightly bound clearing just big enough for him to lie down with his back pressed against bark to place his prize between his front legs. Makhai wasted no time, lips peeling back to rip at the tawny flesh of still carcass, tearing into its belly and plucking the tender meat from the best places first. He was caught up in his meal, too caught that he was late in catching attention to the movement, the drift of a foreign scent. Pale audits swiveled, head lifting in attention to the surrounding shadows, the brute shifted his weight slightly tongue rolling over his maw to dab the blood from his face.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the exact location, but called out the trees as if he were talking to them. The man might have a less defensive approach under normal circumstances. But he was hungry. "Do you take me for a fool?" he inquired bluntly with a snap on his tone.