“Are you gonna eat it, ” the bugbear asked. A massive creature, he stood almost nine-feet-tall. He wore a light leather armor. A rudely constructed battle-axe hung from his belt. Two teeth, as long as daggers, extended from his lower jaw, reaching far out of his mouth.
“Maybe,” answered his equally massive compatriot.
A light rain had started to fall and soak into each monster’s fur, freeing a choking, pestilent aroma. The tall grass they stood in began to bend, burdened by the rain and the bugbears’ terrible scent.
“But it’s human and it’s dead already. Humans have a foul taste me thinks, and to eat one you didn’t kill fresh…not too smart.”
“But I ain’t smart. I’m hungry so me thinks I’ll eat it.” The human had been dead for several days. Three arrows were stuck in its belly. Dried blood crusted its midsection and legs. The bugbear lifted him off the ground by its neck. In the creature’s hands, the human’s head, coated with blood, resembled a deeply colored grape. The bugbear inspected its possible meal. “I don’t see nothing that’s spoiled too bad.”
“Eat it and be done with it then, but you’ll have the brownsies tonight for sure,” warned the wiser bugbear.
“Brownsies or not, I’m hungry,” defiantly pronounced the hungry beast as he bit down hard over the dead human’s head, severing it from its body at the neck. With a full mouth, the bugbear said, “Not too bad, though it does taste a bit queer.”