Hunting small prey is easy.
You pluck winged-rabbits out of the air, drag small burrowers from their lairs, and land like a sack of bricks on boars. You snap a snake, and maul a monkey. You even manage to corral a crocodile.
You leg slows you, robs you of some strength, but you're stronger today than you were yesterday. Surprisingly so. Similar to the rapid healing of your petty ills,
And you're still hungry.
Oh all these little morsels took the edge off, but your gut still growls and you find yourself wondering at other tastes you've denied yourself in the past from risk. The running lizard, the acid bird, and the thorny plants. You've sampled them before, but everything seems to taste so different now. You muse on old favorites, the furred cow and bull, and new delicacies. Anything less seems plain by comparison.
You even find, to your shock, your mouth waters at the thought of tyrant wolves. Those massive beasts that hunt in packs and comb the jungles to the north, past the lake and the plains. Far outside of your territory, and dangerous enough that you have never laid your eyes on their blood let alone defeated one. How delicious might they be…
You blink and shake yourself, spitting spare feathers from your most recent snack out in a cloud of greens and purples. Hunger is ruining your concentration, it was well and truly dark out now.
[X] You could try and sleep some more.
[X] Distract yourself, go exploring. (Choose a direction.)
[X] Distract yourself, go looking for the silver insect.
[X] Go hunting. First thing you come across.
[X] Go hunting. Something specific. (Choose your prey)
[X] Write-in.