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The excuse of having good intentions could be used to save oneself from any number of sticky situations. It was the perfect scapegoat to cover questionable actions or explain grey areas. Unfortunately, one sleazy-looking buck was so far off the deep end that no amount of begging good intentions would save him from rebuke. There was a clear difference between the necessity to hunt and feed himself, and then just hunting to maim for the thrill of it.

Cobalt blue bangs hung down between Poisoned Gift's intensely focused eyes while gnashing teeth were fastened tight around the throat of a thrashing, overgrown rodent. It stood no chance of escape but nor would it be granted the gift of a swift and merciless death. It somehow summoned the strength to let forth a gurgling, pitiful mew- in response to which Poisoned simply snickered. Bright red blood bubbled and rose up around his lips, dripping messily down through his short purple beard. He was in no rush, actually quite the contrary. He had all the time to spare.

The approaching doe was sensed long before she was seen; Poisoned Gift cared not to look up and lay his eyes upon her. He simply let loose a guttural growl, mouth still closed fiercely and fast around the now-dead rodent. It was both a warning to maintain a safe distance but also a challenge. The purple-and-blue buck was not above a skirmish, and the doe was a much preferable adversary to an overgrown rat. At least she would put up a fight- and the thought of a well-matched struggle set the buck's heart racing.