It was almost more a sense than a proper sound as he glanced over his shoulder to spot a ginger-curled head approaching along his lengthened shadow. He knew her he knew her he knew her, and she was dear to him, this laughing summer's daughter but he did not care. In that moment she was competition, not packmate and certainly not friend. What did that word even mean? He should have known, but it was hazy and hidden in darkness. He bared sharp teeth at her, warning her away in a silent snarl as he crouched, moving with stealth, preparing himself to spring.
She sprang first, too soon and too low. Perhaps it was Isuma's shadow passing overhead or simply a shift in the wind that brought the sound of their posturing into the copse, but by the time Melita had made her attack the birds were already calling alarm and flapping broad wings to lift fat bodies off the ground. They weren't so fast that she came away empty-handed: a fistful of bloody feathers were torn from one bird as it screeched and scrambled to reach the higher branches.
Jigano moved a moment after the girl, taking that space between racing heartbeats to see which way the birds were rising. He flung himself into the flock but his hesitation had its price. He closed clawed fingers around a bird's leg and yanked viciously down, dragging it from the sky, but it was more scared than injured and it fought back with buffeting wings and vicious jabs of its sharp beak as the white-haired blightbeast sought to get control of it.
She sprang first, too soon and too low. Perhaps it was Isuma's shadow passing overhead or simply a shift in the wind that brought the sound of their posturing into the copse, but by the time Melita had made her attack the birds were already calling alarm and flapping broad wings to lift fat bodies off the ground. They weren't so fast that she came away empty-handed: a fistful of bloody feathers were torn from one bird as it screeched and scrambled to reach the higher branches.
Jigano moved a moment after the girl, taking that space between racing heartbeats to see which way the birds were rising. He flung himself into the flock but his hesitation had its price. He closed clawed fingers around a bird's leg and yanked viciously down, dragging it from the sky, but it was more scared than injured and it fought back with buffeting wings and vicious jabs of its sharp beak as the white-haired blightbeast sought to get control of it.
