Lost little lamb

When it came to Ignita, touch was his love language. He hadn’t considered that before, and the behemoth of a Warlord twitched a light smile as he watched the small girl finish her craft. She held it up, some form of wind chime and a look of consideration passed her lips. Perhaps he should have taken that as the warning it was. Instead, the young fool watched her with a half smile on his muzzle as she got to her paws, and trotted over to the wall.

Wait.

What was she doing? He shot to his paws the moment she started to climb, and stomped over to the base of the wall. He sucked in a breath. “IGNITA.” He roared, reaching over and swiping at the bottom of her legs. Yes, he was intending to make her fall. So that he could catch her, and control her landing before she did anything even more stupid and dangerous


"Basilisk Fatalis"