Not that he was complacent, but it sure seemed as if the thestral across the arena from him was. At first he had thought it odd that a thestral would be here, but he was grateful that he had not been seeing things the entire time when he thought he spotted leathery wings. Then he smelled it. Having not partaken of his blood vials in nearly six days, he had been quite hungry. Nowhere close to where the urges would become a serious problem, but enough that his body started looking for food even if he had been putting the thoughts at the back of his mind. He could hear the blood pumping in the veins of his erstwhile comrades on his team for the melee clearly now, their different rates betraying the individuals’ state of unease at their circumstances. He could smell the differing aromas from the innumerable minor cuts and congealed scabs from those around him and those further away. It was then he began picking out familiar scents, at once questioning the logic of being able to distinguish blood scents and, at the same time, not caring when he picked out the familiar scent of the thestral.