Gonna draw your last breaths, at the end of our Mek’Leths

Wrath this, sins that. Yeah yeah, like there was anyone among them that didn't have blood on their hands. Hazel's rough edges had only grown harder, more pronounced over time. Sure, she was growing up, but she'd done so much of that before her first full year. Growing up too fast, growing up too hard. There is a sharpness to the girl that's often well concealed, but today? She doesn't have to hide. She doesn't have to bother. All of the things that had been bottled up for too long, all of the things she had to moderate and hide, those could come out to play. Relentless and a bit unhinged, she's more than happy to take on the Raiders.

The man is red, more than three times her age, and barreling towards her. Hazel bit back the resemblance she found here, the fact that he wasn't all that dissimilar from the man she'd struck dead over a year ago. The man-- right, the degree of separation she had to take from her father. It's not him... that doesn't matter. The same feelings grip her now as they did then. Hazel would meet the raider with the same devastating force, gathering as much power as she could, pushing off the ground as she lunged in his direction. Hackles up, crystalline fangs flashing in the daylight. She's smaller, but just as fierce.

Hazel caught his antlers across her cheek, feeling them split the flesh with a sting. At least it wasn't her eye. The general moves to reengage with as much speed as she can garner in the short distance. He'd gone for blood, and she would match his gusto. No, Hazel wasn't going to be pushed around, she wasn't going to let him get away with that shit. Smaller, but absolutely fucking relentless, the girl darted in and made for the side of the red devil's neck. The neck, the face, it didn't matter much to her-- as long as she stayed away from those fucking antlers. Hazel wanted blood.

"Speech"