The Thrill of Control

His companions ahead of him, Flare moved through the plain towards the battlefield. The chill of the North beneath his paws, and carrying on the wind. The burrowing chill felt despite the strength of summer. He could feel it beneath his skin in the same way he could feel his impatience. A burning itch he did his best to ignore, but ever growing.

His strength was growing, his body honed by the force of his drive to better himself. Still not enough, he wasn’t there yet. Not where he needed to be. Until he was, that frustration would only grow. Its need for an outlet could not be ignored as he stepped onto the battlefield. Looking for an opponent, a victim. He really didn’t care which. Didn’t care out if they started out as one, and developed into the other. He raised his head, scenting the wind. Catching the faint trail of… someone, through a scan of the horizon revealed nothing.


"Speech"