Boar.
The Vistolets looked at the pack again and, having unmistakably identified the leader, threw him the remains of the carcass. The large, lean beast slowly straightened up, shifted from paw to paw, and cautiously sniffed at the bloodied pieces. His eyes never left Vic. The Vistolet nodded and took a step back, then a second, then a third. The
flock will not have enough of this food. He moved behind the tree trunks, listening to the menacing growl, the squeal of the driven away relatives and the crunch of bones. After some time, the leader appeared next to Vic, licked his bloodied muzzle and looked warily at the Vistolian. He smiled. A
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