Once they made their way back to the clearing, Luca finally dropped the cart onto the grass with a tired sigh.
The wooden wheels creaked, and the dozens of chickens inside clucked and fluttered around nervously, clearly realizing that whatever trip they were on wasn't going to end in a picnic.
He dusted off his hands and looked down at them thoughtfully.
"Alright." He said, catching his breath. "This should be enough to make sure everyone in the village gets a taste."
Then, reaching into the satchel slung at his side, he pulled out a small, sharp knife. It gleamed faintly in the sunlight, short but clearly made for cutting, gutting, and skinning.
Luna immediately stiffened beside him, her face going pale. "L-Luca." She stammered nervously, taking a small step back. "What is that for…?"
He looked up innocently. "Oh, this? It's for slicing, gutting, and skinning the chickens, of course." He said matter-of-factly.
"First, we'll do that, then cut them into pieces—"
