A herd of hillside ram have been grazing the outskirts of Eastborn’s hillsides since this morning, and the general took notice. Close notice — as in he couldn’t exactly take his eyes off of them ever since he’d begun his patrol. Admittedly, the sight reminded Āzon of just how hungry he’d been growing and how hunting sounded like a pretty good idea right about now, and just as he finished his rounds, he’d made that idea a reality.

It took approximately forty-five minutes.

To herd, isolate, take down, and finally kill a female big horn. He couldn’t believe he managed to successfully take one down himself, but who was he to question luck? Not only did Azon have his lunch, but he also had extra to share with the rest of Eastborne! There was only one problem, and he’d noticed it while he dragged the carcass halfway over Eastborne’s grounds:

One of those rams had got him good.

An angry male who wouldn’t go down without a fight, that was his first (clearly failed) target. Its horns rammed into his jaw, his ribs, and even managed to knock the pale brute over a couple times when he’d forgotten to dodge. Ignis, like the idiot he was, fought him back — returning the favor ramming into him a few times as well, until it eventually gave into and sped away from him. The general was thankful that his second attempt put up less of a fight — but now he was a walking result of his first.

Beat the fuck up.

As he made it to the walls of the castle, he hissed as a sharp pain seared his side. Dropping the hefty kill that he dragged by the neck with his jaws. They hurt from carrying her here, and so did the rest of his body. Finally, he’d plop down against the grass, heaving in exhaustion as he held his side. His back pressed against the side of the castle walls, and his tongue running over the split in his lips.

That….was the most fun he’d had in a while. Azonial thought to himself with an amused huff.

—and once he was no longer bruised to shit, he’d have to do it again some day…..