As the stag laid dying, Jerec rolled and tumbled hard into the side of a tree. He was breathing hard, nostrils flaring as he witnessed his prey's final suffering. He watched it's life fade away, and he loomed over it. Blood soaked the ground, and light faded from the stag's eyes. Bending down, Jerec reached toward the neck and started to eat, pulling at the fur and flesh until meet met to teeth.
It did not matter if he housed himself within four walls and a roof. The wild was inside him, it was not something that could be hidden away in exchange for the quiet placation of guised civility. He paused, looking across to the small creature that finished the stag. The little owl that had followed him from the forest, to a jungle of a different kind.
Slowly the fur faded from his body, bone shrunk down to the sculpture of man. He watched her, that light in her eyes, and felt a pang then in his gut. And a burning guilt that he couldn't understand. Or one that he did not want to acknowledge.
He was silent for the time, looking at his hands in their blood-soaked reverie.
"I...am sorry, Owlet," was all he said.