Kro had finally finished his... excursion. He knelt down in the decaying snow, red streaks over his muzzle and clothes. The eyes had bare witness, and the hunger satisfied. But he knew that was never enough. Nothing was ever enough for his omnipotent gods. At least, what he perceived as his gods. He knew there were not real, only an excuse to mindlessly hunt and slaughter.An instinctual promise fulfilled only by the harm of the like and far. It was... Messed, he knew, but it was necessary? No... Yes... Heh, what did it matter?
No one ever knew what the exile did to people in the dark, after all.
He stood, placing a paw on his mask. It was time to go home. He set off, taking flight with wings of smoke, and headed towards the treehouse.
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After a short flight, Kro placed himself down on the balcony, muttering to himself. Walking inside, he spoke quietly.
"Hello? Vulki, you here?"