Pulling the corpse around the crowded aera, he directly thrown it in the pauper's grave, at the center of the camp.
Lots of eyes landed on him, he did his best to display a cold expression with a determined glare as he dragged the man in the dirt.
For the first time, Laurel saw Oswald's bad personality. A shiver ran down his spine as the not-so-impressing foe he fought almost every day glared at him for a second. He subconsciously lowered his gaze.
One week away from the full moon, Oswald could feel how easily his heart's strong beats were triggered. The lack of meat in each meal kept his stomach at bay for any opportunity to let his instincts take over. He caught more scents and was interested in any new one, he acted weird.
He felt relieved when he heard someone whisper. "They got Marn, I told him to act discreet." And he resisted his urge to turn toward the voice. It was too far and he would be too suspicious to glare at them with the face he kept like solidified.
