22nd of Autumn
515 AV
Dusk
The stench carried heavily on the breeze in all directions from its foci in the grasses, permeating the once pleasant atmosphere with death. Once detected the scent clung to the nostrils and nestled into the olfactory organ, exulted in its magnitude and sheer repugnance. At its origin lay the remains of an antelope torn asunder by bug and beast. What was left had withered under the sun, turning fresh meat to tough jerky and skin to leather. Those tidbits that might have been edible or nutritious at one point were either warming the belly of a long-gone carnivore or wasting away to a state of fetid decomposition. The earth was claiming this doe for its own.
Or it might have had the putrid aroma not caught the attention of a low flying carrion bird, dipping below the occasional thermal to survey the endless sea of grass. Once turned on to the scent of decomposition the Kelvic tilted his wings and readjusted his course to locate the dead doe. Gold rimmed eyes scanned the billowing pasture land, interested only in spotting potential competition. He need not locate the deceased visually.
Wheeling above the doe twice the great bird took stock of the scene. Decomposition had been stymied by the heat of the looming sun, now sinking lazily in the sky. The animal was nearly desiccated, fluids either the nectar of previous partakers or vaporized in the heat. But it wasn't completely mummified and the vulture had no qualms making a light snack out of what remained.
Descending with ease the vulture took care to land delicately near enough to the dead animal to extend his serpentine neck and pick at it. But the fruits of his laziness were not to be savored yet. There was still a need to assess the situation. Tilting his head a degree the large bird raised his wings up, as if stretching the feathers out. In truth, however, he was increasing his stature and making certain he was the only attendee at this feast.
Satisfied he'd not be bothered the Kelvic began the arduous task of picking the good bits out. Taking a ginger step forward the vulture pecked at a morsel of hanging dried flesh hanging tantalizingly from the edge of an exposed rib. The leathery meat slid down his throat as he stretched his wings back, raising up on plumed legs to encourage the food to an unobstructed path into his gut. Joining him were fat maggots, intrepid beetles and indolent flies, though the guest list was considerably shorter than it must've been a day ago.
Content that he would not be disturbed the carrion bird began his task of defleshing what remained, scarfing the gamey flesh down with uninhibited enthusiasm. The heavy scent of decomposing flesh blocked all other smells from the bird and his eyes blinked constantly to deter the flies. He was in his own delicious world of dead meat and solitude. Such moments were to be savored.