The World At Our Feet

It was early afternoon, the brute returning with his latest kill; a flightless bird adorned with the negative colors of black and white. The creature was slow, farther from water then it should have been, thus making it an easy target for seeking teeth. The blood stained his russet coat, though it remained hardly noticeable. He would carry his catch towards Glaciem lands, wanting to enjoy his meal in solitude and peace. Shoulders rolled as his strides carried him purposefully over the border markers, massive form strolling without a care. So far, he had been alone. The quietude of his surroundings bringing a sort of serene peace into the air...

He would stop where he was, gazing about as he sought a place to sit and eat. The flightless bird latched within his maw making him drool, it's taste teasing upon his tongue. He would spot a gnarled pine, broken and leaning upon the form of another as it seemed to form a sort of canopy from the snow that dangled precariously above. White tinted paws would blend with the snow, making it seem as if his form of russet and black bled into the snow like a heathen from hell. Though his colors were muted, he still bore pride in his appearance. For he would pride himself in being the Son of Argent, and the son of Isardis. (or so he assumed.) The beast would lie himself upon his stomach, tail lashing slightly as his eagerness to consume his catch would trigger his hastened movements. He would sit like a sphinx, prey between his forepaws before digging in so greedily to his meal. Blood would spill onto his tongue, the sound of blubber and meat being pulled from the long dead creature sloshing between gnashing teeth. Should someone disturb him, he would let them know without haste they were not welcome...however, it depended on who he considered good company.

"Speech"