Sweet Death
Gorax flew gracefully above the clouds. He counted the stars above idly and, named them as a game to pass the time as he traveled. His wings stretched at his sides to twice the length of his body from his snout to the tip of his tail, and his glossy scales blended easily into the darkness of the night beneath the crescent moon. His belly felt empty, so he began to consider what he might hunt. Lazily, he swooped below the clouds, inching his way down to just above the treetops. This land was home to many types of wild pigs and hogs. His keen eyes peered beyond the trees to the ground below, able to see clearly at high speeds even between the many leaves and branches.