My Turf

[Rowan Incarti]

Rowan paced. He could argue that there was a reason for his pacing. He was marking off his territory, of course. Making it so that no other creature smart enough to know the scent would come near the place. He liked that idea. But if he was being honest with himself, he was pacing because though the forest in which he lived (and loved) was permantently dark (a reason he'd moved here in the first place), outside of the forest it was still day. And Rowan was hungry, but could go nowhere to get food. Unless he wanted to try his hand at hunting lesser beings like deer once more. It hadn't been that bad when he was a human, in fact he'd enjoyed it immensely. But deer blood, though thirst-quenching enough, didn't hold a candle to the real thing. But maybe I should hunt a deer or elk or something so that I don't appear a ravenous monster when I do hunt. Hmmm....that would probably be the better thing.

Rowan paced some more, caught in his internal battle over whether or not to go hunting. In the end though, he decided that it'd be nice to stretch his muscles, and crept through the forest looking for a meal...