Hansel the barbarian cracked the beasts spine with the force of his elbow. He drove it’s head into the ground, clamped it’s skull with his thigh and wrenched the body crooked with a twist of his torso.
The beast flopped to the ground. Hansel stood panting, then resting against a tree. The animal had not deserved it, and reprimanding his own blind rage, he punched the tree.
“Ow.” Said the tree “Dude, the more you practice being angry, the easier it will be for you to get angry. Has no one ever told you that? Grow some fucking nuts man. You can crack a pterodactyl spine with your bicep, but you can’t exercise a tiny bit of self-restraint and use your massive muscles to hold still? If I were your mother I would have you knitting. You hear me? Knitting. Then you’d have more to wear than that tiny leather speedo.”
Hansel wandered away from the tree, feeling dizzy and oddly vulnerable in the open air.