maybe, I

Dragging the still steaming carcass of an old boar, the violet brute slipped into the shelter of the mines. Not far, not deep. He wanted a view of the frozen landscape while he worked, and a bit of daylight to work by. The boar had fought well, and he had walked away with some wounds of his own for his troubles. The titanic young man dropped the grizzled boar once he was out of the wind, unable to feel it cutting into his skin through his dense pelage. It was a cooking type of evening, a rarity since he'd started travelling. However, this was a place he planned on staying, so he could afford to spend some time savouring his meals again. The first task was to set up a firepit.

Being in a mine, there were plenty of cobbles about to collect and arrange in a rough circle near the mouth of the mineshafts. It took a bit longer to locate something to skewer his meat with, he didn't trust the rusted metal implements that littered the mines for the task. Instead, the amaranthine giant was forced to venture out towards the smattering of trees he could see a ways away, and utilize his bulk to take down a dead conifer. It was a young tree, too close to a well rooted, older neighbour. So he had very little trouble uprooting the leaning tree and dragging it to the mines. His meal was going to freeze soon if he didn't get the fire going.

Branches snapped easily under his paws, and were hastily assembled within the ring of the firepit. So much of the bark crumbled at the slightest touch, that he shoved it into the pit by the pawful. There hadn't been a blizzard in a few days, so the wood wasn't wet with snow. It would make lighting the fire much easier. A series of haphazard stone strikes, a litany of muttered curses, and a few shabby sparks later- a pile of kindling was being readily devoured by a fledgling flame. Then it became time to dress the boar carcass before it froze solid.

Peeling the hide away from the meat with his own fangs was an absolute misery, but he didn't have any knives anymore. A mixture of tugging and nipping and slicing with his claws, and the fire was quite well established by the time he'd managed to get the majority of the beast skinned. Resting the carcass on its own skin, he tore into the belly with abandon. The goal was to spill the entrails, get most of them out so that he wouldn't have to go digging around in there for the next few hours. The hunter was skilled enough to succeed on that front, and the guts slithered free of the boar's belly. Clearing them out took a few minutes, nipping and slicing and yanking at various bits to dislodge whatever would ruin the flavours of the meat. He left the liver, the heart, the lungs. Things that weren't full of partially digested meals or literal shit.

Long shanks of wood broken from the knotted trunk of the felled tree impaled the old boar, and with a strained grunt, the giant managed to get his meal balanced on those skewers while he arranged a few other spears of wood that would hold the heavy carcass steady. Surround those posts with more stones, and now it was just a waiting game.

(WC: 588/750 - using half word count seasonal pass to bring goal from 1500 to 750!)