The last Hrtedyp woke to a morning that was bright and sunny unaware it was now the last Hrtedyp.
Around it lay the remains of its family slain in a fit of passion the previous night when it was awoken to a noise and thinking there was a burglar carried out a defence leading to the current situation.
The Hrtedyp liked the smell and taste of blood, it craved it at every occasion and the night before had satisfied every urge to sate itself as never before. He could taste the blood on his lips, and it excited him thinking of the euphoria he felt during the kill. But the state of pleasure soon dissipated when he looked about and took in the gravity of what he had done.
Now it was alone, and any Hrtedyp would tell you being alone was far worse than having no one to lean on, love or for that matter eat.
It dragged itself to the entrance to its lair chewing on the leg of what was once his Uncle and realized his uncle even in death was a tough old bugger.
The last Hrtedyp then belched, farted and did the same once again clearing its digestive tract before turning back into the place it came from and seeing the ripped body of his mother felt a moment’s sadness and wished it didn’t end in this way for he loved his mother, she had provided for him, kept him safe and warm and he had betrayed her trust in such an abominable way.
In the distance, he heard a sound and knew the Cliuytr were rising for the days hunt. The Cliuytr were a valuable source of food for the Hrtedyp but with only him remaining it wouldn’t be long before the Cliuytr would ascend to dominance and his kind would shrink to insignificance.
Gathering his claws about him he decided if this was to be the end, and as he the last Hrtedyp, he would go down fighting.
Morpethroad 
Your Hrtedyp is a mean little critter.