Steven didn’t want to murder these animals for cloths, he didn’t even kill animals for food! As soon as Steven understood where grocery stores got their meat from, he went vegetarian. When he found out how other animals were used to source different types of food that wasn’t meat, he went vegan. When Steven found out how people were marginalized and abused for profit while making non-animal-based food, he started growing his own food. Once Steven found out how humanity had warped and twisted nature to make the food they needed, he started to go out into the woods and find food the natural way. He didn’t remember much after making that last decision. From what he could tell, it ended with him sleeping under a bush.

Steven slowly turned to where the Beast had been, to try and convince him that this poor animal should be left alone, only to find it running full tilt at the dear with a dangerous look in its eye.

“No!” Steven couldn’t help but scream. The Beast seemed not to notice Steven had yelled, the deer-like thing the Beast was running at looked at Steven confused, and Steven had front row seats to a very confused deer getting mauled by the Beast. He felt partially responsible.

“Leave the poor deer alone! Stop! Please for the love of all that is… stop trying to stab it! Hey, you, deer, yeah, stop waving those horns around so threateningly” Steven stood there, exceedingly naked, afraid, but with a fresh sense of achievement by stopping the fight between the Beast and deer. “There we go, I knew you two could be friends. Beast, there are other ways to get things than to take them off of a cold dead corpse, and you, deer-“ the deer looked at Steven curiously almost like it could understand-

The Beast took that moment of inattention to stab the deer in the side.

“Oh god, oh no,” the dying sounds of the deer would be nightmare fuel for Steven for as long as he lived, “how is it even still screaming when you cut out it’s throat?”

A few of the longest minutes of Stevens life later, he the deer finally let out its last dying cry. Steven stood there, a more broken person than he had been when he’d woke up under that bush.

“This is my fault,” he said, looking down at the massacre that used to be a living being, “Why couldn’t I just be happy naked?