Lets have a talk

He looked to Io, wondering what she would think of his bloody retelling. She didn’t comment, except to give him instructions. He narrowed his eyes at his sister, uncertain where she was going, but trusting her enough to lead. He did as he was told - without argument, for once. She had earned the right for him to leap without looking, if she said the word.

His eyes slipped closed, and he grimaced as he concentrated anew on the past. As he fought to bring it fresh to mind despite his hesitations. “Its hot, and dry. The grass is like thorns beneath my feet, raspy from the lack of rain. It smells like smoke in the wind, like the fires, and drought, and famine that made us flee.” he whispered, voice soft as he relived it. As he remembered the feel of his legs pounding on the hard ground. He winced, breath a little quicker. He knew what was coming, he didn’t want to see it again. He made himself, for Io’s sake, and for his own.

“I’m urging Deathbelle on, keeping her close. The wind and smoke hide them until they are right upon us, it’s how they surrounded us so easily. They smell like blood. If they feasted recently, it wasn’t upon prey. They threaten us, Deathbelle. I remember feeling rage. All I wanted was to bring her to safety, and they keep me from that. The bloodlust takes over. I’ve heard it ran rampant in my line, the anger and blindness that comes with rage.” He falls silent for a moment, trying to recall the fight. “It’s just the taste of blood, the rage I remember from the fight.”