Worm was briefly cowed by the display, flinching in a display of simpering beta-ism, or whatever it is these days. Because it was scary and it was flapping its wings, and that could have hit him! And that could have hurt!

Yet, after a beat, he remembered he was supposed to be standing up to this bully! "YOUR FIRE ISN'T MAKING THE FLOWERS FEEL VERY WELL! OR THE GRASS!" Worm's own shouting wasn't as good as the chicken's; his voice wobbled with uncertainty.

Worm hopped a few little steps, back arched as his wrinkled face screwed up into a hiss. In what is likely supposed to be his own threatening display, as much as 1 lb of kitten can be. As he hopped forward in a daring move, he opened his mouth, and several bubbles were formed and blown in the direction of the very-mean-stranger.

The bubbles are utterly harmless, but this playground fight was really heating up. So much so, Worm peered through the bubbles and jeered at the stranger.

"YOU'RE BEING NAUGHTY! YOU'RE A..." Worm lower his voice, glancing over his shoulder as if Imp may materialise and tell him off at that very moment.

"..shit." He mumbled.

Worm's face scrunched up as this loud stranger dried out his eyes. Why was it so stinky? Ew. Gross. He felt his skin warm, unaware that this stranger's spell had cursed him with a terrible condition: dry skin the next day. The kitten's stomach lurched at the smell, and he was forced to look away from the heat.

Then, audibly gasped as the valkhound yelled 'naughty shit,' his ears pinned back briefly as he looked over his shoulder. He watched the grass and the treelines for a moment, as if expecting Imp to appear and do the worst thing of all; look a little sad and gentle parent Worm into not saying bad words.

"Shut up!" Worm hissed as if Imp were in the trees, just waiting to softly tsk at Worm with light amusement. The kitten couldn't imagine anything more dreadful, and it showed in his soppy wet fear.

Yet there was one beat. Then two. And no adult appeared to tell either of them off. Emboldened by this realisation, Worm immediately turned to shout directly at Tsvesok's stinky face, trembling as the adrenaline kicked into high gear. It felt like a pack of dog suddenly straining against their chains, 'you get to fight now' they all barked. "YOU'RE A SHITTIER SHIT! AND A STINKY ONE TOO!"

Then reeled back to do the unthinkable; spray water directly into the valkhound. Not that a kitten has the force to make it a true attack; the pressure was more akin to someone hosing their dog down in the back garden than anything that would do real damage.

The contact of the fire this time hurt. Through the ringing in his ears, Worm could hear his flesh sizzle, and it made his stomach lurch in equal parts revulsion and pain. It took a handful of disorienting seconds to truly feel it and understand why he'd heard it so clearly. Instinct told him to shake his head, which he did, sending the molten spit flying in all directions.

Burns boiled and reddened around the top of his head, into the creases of his skin, in the creases around the top of his stone. It'd sizzled and peeled away some of the skin, leaving nasty, oozing spots. It almost looked like a very sore, red, blistering toupee.

Fight or flight had long ago kicked in and chosen fight. Pushing into the Valkhound's space, or at least trying to, Worm's maw opened to spew another fountain of water; he tried to put all his malice behind it. He wanted it to hurt. Some animalistic part of him wanted this stranger to feel as bad as it'd made him feel. There wasn't time to think about it. To consider why.

He wanted to hurt the stranger.

Which did nothing to actually bring those thoughts to fruition. The kitten stood, now close to the valkhound, with his mouth agape, just dribbling.

Worm yowled as he was pushed down into the grass. So stunned by falling back, and his head hitting the floor he barely managed to register that it was hot. Burning, sizzling under the claws of the valkhound.

Worm was --unlike the valkhound-- not designed with fighting in mind. He wasn't difficult to topple and pin. He still wriggled and wormed, however, in a futile attempt to free himself from the claws. Get out! Get out! Get out!

Skin was beginning to peel away and blister before Worm managed to suck in air. Not a lot, but enough to fire a pretty convincing jet of water this time, aiming right for the valkhound's face.