**Ryan** carried the deer's carcass on his weary shoulders, its warm blood seeping through his coarse shirt, forming red lines across his back like a map of old wounds. The evening air bit with the scent of frost and damp earth, foretelling a coming storm.
On his way to the cabin, a group of villagers intercepted him. Their breaths hitched for a moment at the sight of the deer, then erupted into stifled laughter, sharp and mocking like the barks of village dogs.
**First Villager** (waving a work-cracked hand):
"Wow! That's a deer fit for a mythical beast!" (He winks at his companion) "Aren't you thinking of marrying, Ryan? My daughter is *very* pretty."
**Second Villager** (shoving him aside with a broad shoulder):
"You fool!" (He gestures to the deer) "Enough gluttony! This one wants Ryan's flesh, not his daughter!" (He glares at Ryan) "Hurry back before it's too late. You've still got to skin and dry this thing."
**Ryan** didn't answer—just a dry shrug. He turned away, the villagers' whispers trailing him like swarming flies:
"Will this idiot ever stop buying tree seeds? He's planted an entire forest!"
---
Inside his crumbling home, its walls veined with cracks, Ryan tossed the deer onto the black butcher's stone, which resembled an ancient altar. He tried to sit on his wooden chair, but the echo of violent knocks at the courtyard door sent him leaping up, startled.
**Mark** (entering without permission, his breath reeking of cheap beer):
"Ah… the lazy hunter!" (He snatches a knife from the table) "I'll take the deer's thigh… and this—" (He tosses a frayed sack) "—five pounds of flour."
**Ryan** (tightening his grip on a knife handle beneath the table):
"Flour doesn't fill hunger, Mark… I want rice too."
**Mark** (severs the thigh in one strike, blood splattering his face):
"The meat's for my father… Would you deny the kindness of the village that took you in?!" (He leaves laughing) "Beware—if the village dogs go hungry tomorrow, they might eat their master!"