runnin' late with half your makeup on

He could see the way she came alive with the battle before her. Adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her eyes bright with it, like she was made to fight. It was easy to feel pride for her as he witnessed it, and as his snarl died down, she dove for its neck. Taking the opening he had provided. Holding on tight, squeezing her fangs in, bleeding the creature and cutting off its air, until it fell limp at her paws. The Warlord reached over them both, swiping a smear of blood from its neck and wiping it across her forehead. “You're just about ready to be a warrior, little one. Keep up your training, mind your guard, and perhaps you’ll be up a rank next season.” He advised her.

He eyes the jaguar for a moment. “Do you want to skin him?” She could keep it as a mark of accomplishment.


"Sirius Fatalis"