It'd been a while since Vestyge's body had seen so much activity. It found its breath shorter, and its stomach empty quicker than he'd remembered. Maybe he'd never been that fit to begin with, spending most days within Canis. This job was already asking for a lot more than he was used to - maybe he should consider asking for a wage this time around.

The first one had been what he was designed for. He actually had to expand his skill set for whatever this was - total bullshit, I know.

He felt as though he was halfway to Orion, in that the incline was getting ever steeper as he pressed onward. A suitable time for a snack break - he recalled casting something in order to find lesser gembound, but it'd left him in the hibernation. Oh well. Meat would be fine, too.

He followed the scent of a Tunnel Runner through the snow, trailing further from the path than he'd like. When he set eyes on the thing, his mood decreased further. It was a healthy specimen, and knowing their temperament, it would put up a fight. Vestyge was not any good in a fight (yet), and despite it being half his size, there was a possibility it could win.

Vestyge was not emotionally prepared for that prospect.

With all six eyes, he measured the costs. He'd need Oil soon - if there was a gem on that animal, the struggle would be worth it. If he couldn't spot one on its skin, it was a 50/50 shot it would be internal, or simply non-existent - and then it'd be twice the fight for half the meal.

He wasn't fond of those odds.

The Tunnel Runner, turned, and there - an odd green cluster growing from its leg. It was small, almost like an errant tuft of hair. Vestyge would've missed it if he hadn't been paying close attention. Good thing he had been. He could've missed out on his first good meal in thousands of years.

The deer itself was almost bereft of anything but skin and bones. Just meant it'd melt down quicker.

It was below him, and he was some ways away still - otherwise it would've picked out his silhouette ages ago and ran. Stealth wasn't his strong suit. With claws like his, he might as well have been stalking it in heels.

He chose to run in heels instead, hoping the element of surprise and the added momentum would let him catch up the to deer before it could outspeed him.

Either it was the slope or just Vestyge's innate lack of grace, but the buck saw him coming as he stumbled downward and into the smaller animals sharp horns as it whirled to meet him - A little stupid on its part, sure, but it still had time to run after, right? Might as well give this idiot valkhound something to remember it by.

Those little horns sunk into the soft meat of his chest - not long enough to get to anything especially important, but big enough to hurt like a bastard. Hopefully a temporary embarrassment, and nothing that was actually going to scar.

Vestyge's jaws snapped open, down and shut above the little deer, shooting for its spine to end the fight as quickly as possible. Lest he get his ass kicked again.

Man. He was BAD at this.

His teeth clacked together horribly, the force of it rattling down his skull unpleasantly. Despite being right next to it, he'd reacted too slowly to take advantage of the Tunnel Runner's misstep. The buck now was making the wise decision to turn and run downhill as Vestyge ate its dust.

Intensely frustrated, he tried again to chase after the little lesser. He let his spite fuel him, in place of the meal he so desperately needed right now. He lumbered awkwardly towards it, hissing and spitting and slathering in indignant Valkhound rage.

In the end, it was embracing that desperate, gnawing hunger that brought him closer to a successful hunt. He discarded practicality for pure pursuit, as if nothing mattered more than killing this stupid animal. If not for food, then for its sheer audacity.

Vestyge's speed would be short-lived, but it was enough to bring it within reach of his head again. With an extra push from his back legs, his gallop became a lunge as he tried again to break its spine with nothing but his teeth and brutal determination.

Finally, finally, finally, his many incisors sank and scissored through meat. The deer bleated in fear, only now seeming to confront the fact that the end was truly upon it. Or it would likely be, if Vestyge didn't find a way to fumble this further.

But considering the difference in height, weight and strength, it was safe to say the hunt was over. With a crunch, all that tethered the Tunnel Runner to its life was broken irreparably. The buck went limp, eyes glazed with the shock of fatal injury. A crueler predator would've begun to feast now, even while it's heart still beat.

But Vestyge was better than that, thankfully. With a single incision, it faded before it could fully process its own end. A rare blessing. But this wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. He had his own reasons for ensuring this one's quick demise.

The deer was small, and like Vestyge had guessed, began to decay quickly. He waited patiently at its side, waiting for the skin to take on just the right hue, that beautiful, mottled sheen - like a perfectly ripened fruit (which, in Vestyge's opinion, was one that was already a little rotten).

He loomed over the carcass, savoring the scent of meat and Oil. It'd been so long, too long, since he'd eaten last, and this was the kind of feast that had you licking the plate: SPEAKING OF LICKING!

Vestyge's jaws cracked open again, but not to tear into this half-melted corpse. No - he needed its Oil, every last drop. Out snaked his tongue, specially designed for this task. It was less like a muscle and more like it's own organ, and much like an organ, it looked like something that should've stayed under the skin for the psychological benefit of all possible witnesses.

The world's wettest needle, it plunged through the delicate skin of the tiny deer, and then it began to undulate, pulling forth the fluids even as the body continued to liquefy. Vestyge drank its rot, and he savored the taste.

Normally he'd be more careful about exactly where this process occurred, but he'd figured that he was far enough from the beaten path that his presence would not be noticed. That, and his hunger had made him impatient.

Which, of course, was his mistake.

The slurry of blood, soft tissue and Oil travelled slowly through his hollow tongue, down his throat - The most important part of the meal dissolving against the walls of his stomach. The rest of it would go the normal way.

Vestyge's pale eyes glazed over, allowing himself some time to reflect, meditate. He needed to get better at this, desperately. There weren't enough of the almost-dead to feed on anymore. He'd have to learn more about the uglier parts of survival - killing things that weren't already on their way out. Aren't all of us on our way out, in one form or another?

Well, not really. Gembound are functionally immortal.

The noise and the sheer size of the shape it came from made him startle noticeably, segments clicking together. His jaws shut downward on his tongue hard before he could retract it, drawing blood. The hiss he let out was guttural. That shit hurt.

His proboscis, now wounded, slithered meekly back into his mouth as he glared at Audland. At least he'd stashed his finds from Fornax further back. But he was bruised, injured, and tired. Too exhausted to manage anything more than blunt hostility.

"You're interrupting."