May 25 2018, 08:56 AM
The young deer watched, watched as she monologued, and still felt the blinding cold rage boil through him.
She. Is not. Running. Still, this he bit back, again--knowing full well it was the same childish anger, the same foolish hunger for revenge, that drove him now.
It was only when he saw a tuft of his white fur, clutched in her abominable talons, that he felt the rage boil over. That was his. It was a part of him. It belonged to him. He would not be a piece, a trophy, for some mad monster. His eyes coldly tracked her as she flew up and he turned, hurtling out his magic with another cold flare of anger.
The grip was faint, but there--barely. He didn't move to close the gap, but instead stood staring at where the goose had chosen to gloat from, trying to keep her there with the magic.
"Put that down."
(permission given to attempt an exit stop)
@Blackberry