A trail of blood red water flowed down from where he stood. Without a blade he had to get creative, but nature often provided in times of need. He found several frangible rocks that left behind sharp edges when broken. It was work to skin, and dress the hare, but now it was cooking over an open flame.
Now that his hands were free of blood, Marc ran his fingers over his knuckles. The wound from last night had dried leaving thick scabs. At least there’s no pain.
When his hands were free of blood, the young man ventured back to his campsite. Enfers appeared entirely content to be here… or is it fear on account of what I did to the hare.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.