Conor & Meng & Open
"The pig never asks to be slaughtered, but you rarely see people crying over their morning bacon," Meng answered with a shrug. How difficult it must be for humans to realize they weren't at the top of the food chain so much as mingling among its other tenants. The concepts of predator and prey weren't personal, and they weren't inherently evil; they were only about survival. She would, however, concede that whoever or whatever was responsible, they were guilty of being wasteful. The man's carcass had either been left to communicate a very specific message or to posture in a bid for dominance, like the peacock with the best and brightest feathers displayed in a broad arch. Meng had no idea which it was.
Giving Conor a sidelong glance, she folded her arms to feign concern over their surroundings. "What now? Everyone stands around gawking until the ringmaster appears with a rug under which to sweep the body?"