Fred sulked as he tore another victim open, ripping out the throat as he brutalised the bloody neck, ignoring the screams of the male as he shook his adapted insicors back and forth vigorously, his small mouth opening slightly. "Geez, whatsa deer ta do?" he drawled, "First it was foxhunting then it was deer-hunting" he crackled his hardened hoove-stubbles that resembled fists. Fred bared his antlers for the world to see, the dark brown molted fur shortened in patches on his neck, he luckily had several bellies in which to fill, but since an unknown stranger donated the former deer to the Lilith association, he had no observations. Then he heard about the shootings, that made him mad. Some hoons liked to shoot deer for primitive sports, such as veal.
So the first thing he did was by ignoring his fleeing instinct was to attack the first hoon he saw. The gun clattered at the hoon's feet as Fred trampled on it gleefully. Then he turned to his lady Buck gratefully. Then he 'attended to' the Hoon, who was still alive. The last thing the Hoon saw was the darkness of Fred's mouth
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