For a fleeting moment, Klaus was seized by the irrational fear that he'd unknowingly raised a death flag. To shake the ominous thought, he began muttering a short prayer under his breath — a half-remembered tune twisted into a chant — all while furiously stripping meat from the monster carcasses.
The rhythm of his blade and the cadence of the words blended together, keeping his mind occupied.
When he finally finished, Klaus placed the last slab of meat onto the seaweed saddlebag strapped to the Crimson Slayer. The creature turned and locked its eyes onto him. It stared for a few long seconds, scanning him in silence before shifting its focus to the feast.
Klaus blinked.
'What was that about? Was it sizing me up? It's not thinking of eating me, right?'
A prickle of unease crept over him.
