Word Count → ### :: OOC words here.
Zeitgeist watched the struggle and again he had the thought that this land was savage. Really now, how much easier would it had been to slit the throat and let it bleed out than to wrestle about with it? It seemed to be a cruel death, so long and slow where as one with hands could have made it swift with the proper instrument. Zeitgeist had to quickly shove away the thoughts before his disgust was shown. Why would someone honestly choose to live as a savage? What kind of life would she provide for her pups this one? Most certainly a stunted one. Those poor young really should be rescued from such a terrible fate. Just because their mother chose to live that way shouldn't mean they should be forced to live like such. But well, it wasn't his problem as he had no clue if mistreatment was actually happening or not.
The dog was fairly certain that he could snatch the meal and run with it. While he couldn't hunt for himself he certainly knew how to scavenge. He had run others off of their kills before just so he could ensure that Guillotine would be fed. But he wouldn't do that as the female had promised to share.
Though it would seem as if he was foolish to take her at her word. Rather than the female inviting them over to share she had simply stared before moving over to where she could enjoy the meal. Zeitgeist slipped an arm around Guillotine's shoulder and guided the boy to turn away once the female had started walking without a word. "Don't worry, we will find something else. She just needed an audience to show off for and nothing more than that." He spoke the words softly and lowly, meaning them only for Guillotine to hear. Zeitgeist had his back to the female and walked away with Guillotine, keeping the small boy to his side and whispering assurances to him. If the female wanted to be stingy after refusing his offers of repayment over and over again then so be it. He'd let her have her pig. They didn't need her as they had been getting by without her assistance prior.
Be sure to come around, I'll be wallowing in sorrow, wearing a frown,
like pierrot the clown.
Table by the Mentors!
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