He catches the word. Upstart. Upstart? The fuck was that supposed to mean? Erik pushes the thought from his head, closing in, gaze burning. If looks could kill, the strange boy would have been vaporised damn near instantly. He does not speak. He does not need to speak. Erik’s intentions are clear. He won’t back off either. He can’t back off.
The boy feels teeth against his shoulder. Slamming forward, snarling from somewhere deep within his chest. It’s a wet sound, a rattling sound. A gross, wet sound, the edge of each note seeming to fray. Erik smashes into the smaller boy, teeth gleaming in the dappled light of the forest. He would bite. He would do his best to hold. He’d either drive the boy off or hold him until dad got back. Those were the only options.
Those teeth are vicious, looking for purchase anywhere he could find it. He wants to do damage. Erik longs for control, feeling his own tenuous as it slips through his fingers.
