"Hey, that's not yours," a soldier adorned in a white gambeson said as he pulled the boar bone marrow from his comrade's hands.
"Hey, don't be stingy. Let me have just a small bite," his comrade said rather drunkenly, his arms outstretched, his intentions made clear.
The warrior who now had the meat in hand looked at it, then at his comrade. "Not happening. You are not getting squat... Maybe Leo will give you his," he said, turning his gaze to another man adorned in a similar attire, a large bone marrow with a chunk of meat in his hands.
"Leo?!" the drunk said but was quickly shut down by Leo. "Not happening, man. You should have gone hunting with us," he bit into the meat, mocking the drunk warrior.
Chatters reverberated in the campsite as groups of warriors sat around a fire, enjoying booze and meat as they talked of the day's work, unaware of the looming darkness.
...
