keep my back from the reaper
who's hunting or running, you gotta decide
He'd stopped for a while to nibble on some of the tough weeds that grew through cracks in the rocks and some of the dry mosses that existed in Orion. It wasn't much, but he'd been wandering for a while and it was about time to stop and rest - his legs felt like jelly under him from the long, long walk that made up his daily wander and here was at least better then that dusty, musty room of bones.
Folding his legs beneath him, he sat, a relatively peaceful looking sight of the young fawn, horn-gem glittering in the starlight. He closed his eyes and fell into a sort of restful peace, thinking lightly of the past couple weeks that he'd been alive. Excitement, anger, and then boredom. Boredom, wandering, with nothing in between it all to break up the monotony of day-to-day life. He almost remembered with fondness the adrenaline-pumping, anger-inducing, drug-enhanced experience of his hatching day. Now that had been the kind of excitement he lived for! Although he could do without the smug lecturing.
Not five minutes after sitting down, the fawn bounced right back up, snatched up a couple more mouthfulls of dry, flavorless moss before trotting forward, feeling too antsy and impatient to rest for much longer.