Words and commotion seemed to flare around Derrix as he diligently dressed his plump kill with his sharp knife, eager to save as much of the animal as possible. For once his eyes focused and did not see what was no longer there, but rather stayed in reality, examining his mundane task with content vigor.

 	The repetitive motion was admittedly relaxing to Derrix, so much so he managed to drown out the arguments around him with simple thoughts and ideas. His steel blade scratched the flesh of the animal as he separated skin from muscle, and the metallic smell overtook him, despite his proximity to the already cooked and savory aromatic chunks he had prepared for the small green boy and perhap his other new comrades at arms.

	He labored over the animal with a short smile, happy in his current state of simplistic bliss. 

	Derrix felt the tug of the boar’s hide as he scraped the fat from a fold he had peeled off of it’s side. His attention was shattered and he followed the inertia of the tug to a midget stealing his animal rather brashly.

	“Excuse me,” Derrix started, his brow furrowed with confusion as he golden eyes looked the woman over, reflecting off the licks of the fire before him.

	“But that boar is not yours.”

	A sudden groaning voice took his attention once more and he flung his vision over to the silhouette of yet another visitor to the cave. He pursed his lips into a line, figuring silence was his place in the matter.