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It had been this way for some moons now. He had since gotten used to a complete lack of camouflage amongst the party, ceasing to stalk and starting to truly hunt instead - his head high, hooves lifting firm and steady alongside the owl.

"Must you travel with an entourage?" he teased out of habit, voice low and drifting over the whistle of the wind to his target's ears. "We're terribly unstealthy, Who."

He watched him for a few moments then laughed, quiet and just that touch ominous. His legs had remained in constant motion throughout the one-sided exchange, effortlessly keeping up with the pack as he contemplated the dark-eyed buck. A brief nod, and his head swivelled back to the front as he remarked again, tone dismissive, "You're not as charming as you used to be."

The play would soon cease...or at least, take a different turn. The scraping noise, the shuffle of a creature large and hefty along the swamp floor was evident to him (and had likely been to Who for the last few seconds) and it was time for silence.

"Come," he stated, and the serpent surged forward with a savage hiss, urging the party on. Crocodiles were the closest to a proper challenge now - it was a little easy with two hunters and their well-trained pets. Honour and fairness had never been in the equation, it was but pleasure that he was concerned with, and that, perhaps, was why he ran with Who.

It was a pity the menagerie came attached.

Soon they sighted the beast - the beast and another figure, meandering dangerously close.
Blood-red eyes narrowed.
"Kimeti."

There was a disdainful pause, and there came the laugh once more, but darker and derisive.
"He's blind." Break said, cutting to the chase. "It would be bravado or foolishness. In which case," and his voice slowed from a clipped pace to one much more deliberate. "Let us guide him into the jaws of the creature. It will be advantageous to spring while it's satiated."

Neither did he look at Who, nor did he listen - Break was highly pragmatic about these things, and in his esteemed opinion, the blind buck's purpose in life was to be fulfilled now, within the belly of a very large caiman. Wordlessly, he stepped further ahead, steadily making his way to advance the natural order of the swamp, feathered serpent trailing obediently behind him with wings folded back for stealth.

It would be foolishness. With a savage hiss not unlike that of his monstrous pet, he veered sharply off-course - dark pelt and scales slid in unison towards the burdened crocodile, splitting to flank the beast with a flurry of teeth, horns and hooves. Break's approach was consistent and brutal: there would be blood.

The serpent's magnificent maw unhinged, stretching as it rose with a single beat of its wings and plunged to close around and sink into its brow and cheek. The subsequent rip and the cry it rendered was cut short by the precise strike of a hoof, followed by another, and another - until the black hooves were coated in a crimson that could not be distinguished from his fur, until the caiman's body ceased to struggle.

With that, he extracted his legs from the crushed skull, and turned a significant eye to Who.