The moon watched the cold carnage from lofty perch above. Bodies litter the barren clearing, and nothing moved but the wind as it blew around the smell of blood and rotting meat. Nothing, that is... but the lion.

He was old, tired. He had long ago lost his family, his pride. he walked with a limp, his leg ruined by scar tissue from a long ago fight. He nosed though the armor encased bodies, searching for exposed flesh.

Generals, foot soldiers... the lion was impartial. Meat was meat to an empty belly. he nuzzled a body almost gently, rolling it over. It was a child. A banner boy. No armor, arrow deep in his slender neck. Fresh. With no remorse and only a thought for his hungry stomach, he sank his teeth deep into the boy's belly. Blood instantly coated his scruffy chin, sliding in lovely little trails down to his chest. With a quick jerk of his head... He let out a purr of pleasure as the warm meat made its way down his throat. He lowered his muzzle back to the sweet warmth when... He threw back his head and roared. Such agony, though it only lasted a moment. The lion collapsed on top of the child's body. Dead. A short moment, and a young man came up to his side. He knelt beside the lion, jerking his arrow out of the creature's throat. He only glanced at the boy's mutilated corpse as he heaved the lion over his shoulder. A decent pelt, probably stringy meat though. Beggars can't be choosers though; war made times hard. He stepped over the boy and walked on.