Mabuz was minding his own business as he stays in the field beside a dark forest. Bugs crawl along his coat and over his numerous cuts. The stitches being the only thing keeping his skin together. Red with pale white pupilled eyes stare ahead as he listens to the sounds around him. The sounds of a woodpecker is grating, yet he tolerates it as the woodpecker is only getting food. Mmmm.. food.. He should probably see if he can find some carrion or he could just eat grass. But meat is his favorite. After all, he is not a normal azerin. No, not in the least.
