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"FUCK IS RIGHT," Rheon snapped, bringing his features down close towards Gwyn's. He grinned. "Well, seeing that you're so unhappy to part with your name, I'll give you one. How does Ginger sound? Eh?"
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"I'm going to snap your lovely little legs, Wingspan. Let's see you try to run with that," Rheon stated. He raised his other hoof, aiming to bring it smashing down on Wingspan's back leg.
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Rheon aimed to give her a nice sexy kick to the head to knock her out.
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Ha, ha, ha.
Rheon had laid out his next scene beautifully.
There was a rotting carcass of a wolf strung up onto a tree. And poor Gwyneth, the little vixen he had dearly named Ginger, was wrapped up in the skin of the black wolf that had been slain. And to touch it off, there was a grotesque little hyacinth flower crown on the fox's head, all pretty and pale purple-blue.
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{yep x3.
A raven in the nearby tree took off.
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It had taken him a hella long time to find a pregnant albino she-cat, but he had found one.
She was skinned against, her pelt hanging bloody from a tree with her corpse tied up next to it. The poor female's belly was slit open and hanging from the stomach cavity by their umbilical cords were five fetal kittens, dripping blood towards the ground with their eyes shut and ears plastered against their heads and their pink bodies glistening in the sunlight.
A large raven was perched on the branch above the tree, picking at the she-cat's eye with its thick, heavy bill.
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Rheon leaned down, bringing his mouth close to Wingspan's ear. "I want to see you run," the elk growled lowly. He took a step back, but then there was a terrible howling and barking in the distance.
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"Birdy. Birdy. Birdy," the raven grated out. Then, it spread its dark wings and flew off.
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"You can run when your life is on the line. And your daughter's...who will protect them from me when you're gone?" Rheon stated. The elk chuckled and aimed to give Wingspan a kick to get her started. "I SAID RUN."
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As he padded through the forest, the birds were quiet. His birds weren't. The noisy little flyers that shrikes were...they were swooping about and gathering information about the surrounding area. Splendid and wonderful.
So he was alerted of other people approaching, Dominionites, before the elk even saw them. And Rheon stopped at the borders.
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"My name is Ramsay. I'm looking for Scorpionsting, the BloodClan leader, if he is still hiding out here," the black elk stated. The raven perched in his antlers ruffled his black wings as he cocked his head towards the Dominion members, beady eyes on the dragon.
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"Mhmm. He'll definitely be glad to see me," the black elk answered. Of course, Scorpionsting most likely had no idea who he was, but certain issues had cropped up between his high positions and his own interests that definitely wouldn't mesh together. Especially that issue concerning his little bird.
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"She said, she said," Rheon stated. He aimed to kick her again and send her on the way. In the distance, four massive dogs were baying and ready to tear into her. Rheon's little pets.
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"Pleasure to meet you," Rheon drawled. He glanced the BloodClan leader up and down before continuing. "I heard that you were at war with DarkClan. Lovely little thing wars are, giving my friends something to eat."
At those words, two of the shrikes in his heavy antlers let out small titters, fluffing their wings. They had been eating well.
"But I'm not here to talk about food right now."
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"I've heard that some of your BloodClanners have made threads to Adelaide," Rheon continued. His blue eyes narrowed then. His voice was ice as he spoke the next few words. "Don't touch her. I don't give a fuck how many DarkClanners you kill, but tell your warriors to back off her. She is mine to hurt, understand?"
His his his. His little birdy to pluck the wings of. Not some random BloodClanner.
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"I wouldn't kill any of your members for some time," Rheon answered back. In his case, that was a good deal, giving away some of his hobby time to the BloodClan leader. "I've been looking for some new toys to play with in my time over here. Did I tell you that it had been my dearest wish to skin Cataclysm for a while? What you can do is to make an announcement and tell them not to hurt her. At least too badly. Because if she is, I will know."
"Know, know," the raven in his antler agreed with a bob of his head.
The black elk's eyes went over to the two others who had approached all the while. Dominionites. Something he hadn't tasted in quite some time. Well, not exactly tasted, but taste of their reactions. Something or the other.
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"Splendid. I'm glad we've reached an agreement. I won't touch BloodClanners," Rheon nodded with a slow smile. As for these Dominioners, he was sure he could rattle their windows with something sooner or later.
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"You can, because if you don't, I will fucking rape Hyacinth," the stag threatened, his voice terrible. He leaned down again. "Run, Wingspan. Fly back to WindClan."
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"So live, fool," the elk grated at last. He moved his head out of the way, but Wingspan's claws caught his cheek. He aimed to shove Wingspan back onto her feet. Nothing liike a good dose of fear to get her running. "If I beat you back to the camp, let's say she's mine for the night."
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He had said he would mess with the Dominion some time and there he did with these two creatures artfully arranged.
Two hyena carcasses, skinned and half-rotting, were on the ground in some semblance of positioning that suggested the act of mating. The male hyena had a crude tin crown afixed to the sloughing flesh that still remained on its head with nails. Meanwhile, the female hyena had a garrote around its neck, the metal wire cutting into the dead meat.
Their pelts, nicely cured, were hung up over the scene, flapping like flags in the wind as it stirred them from their resting spot draped over the bough of a young oak.
What was worse was that the smell was that of flowers and no other scent was recognizable over that.
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