It's not my fault!

His hissed words had stung and Fern had chased him, shouting her own in anger at him. She watches his ears flatten and feels a surge of irritation at the boy. This was supposed to a fun tournament where equals clashed in a show of skills. If Basilisk had won, Fern would have praised and congratulated him, not made his victory seem empty. When he turns to face her, the gray girl stops and plants her paws, refusing to get any closer. A couple tears escape and trail down her cheek as her body trembles from barely suppressed sadness and rage. The huge boy turns his angry, disappointed eyes to her and Fern feels the sting once more.

The words Basilisk speaks are biting, sharpened to hurt and hurled at her heart. Emotions flicker across her features as she tries to understand, finally managing to spit out a few words that are choked with emotion, “Then your dad is an asshole Basilisk. If you can’t be happy for a friend winning, then you shouldn’t fight.” She puts emphasis on friend, showing that his actions are hurting not just anyone. More tears spill out as Fern angrily turns away, not wanting to allow the boy the pleasure of seeing the pain he is causing her.

Head turns so she can say over her shoulder, “Fights like these are supposed to be about having fun. You can’t win every fight Basilisk and I guess it was time you learned that.” Nostrils flare as Fern begins to move away, shoulders quivering. How is she supposed to focus on her next fight when the first one has been made hallow? Numbly, the gray girl begins to stalk back toward the fighting area.


"Fern Lark"