where the wild things are

we are like birds of a feather, we are two hearts thrown together

One that I will happily make an us problem. The hawk snarks back, unsure what the content of his threat actually entails but not really caring.

As the herd of deer enter the treeline, Remi swoops up high over the canopy. He's unable to do anything useful within the confines of the trees with his wingspan being what it is, but of course, he's already done what he set out to do. Through the bond the alchemist can feel the red-pale gust of murderous wind blowing outward from the Huntsman, freckled intermittently by moments of clarity and rationality. Both Ronin and the dragon know where their claws should go to kill the deer as quickly as possible, but only Ronin has a name for those places. Only Ronin is aware of how the blood splashes against the mulch, though they're both keenly aware of the bright smell of blood that rises up from the leaves.

Tucking his wings and gliding carefully onto a branch overhead, the hawk watches the light fade from the deer's eyes. Not the sort of creature that could posture himself against the dragon-man below, it's quite easy for Remi to watch the scene without feeling compelled to steal Ronin's kill or take part.

I am surprised you went only for one. He comments, tucking his wings tightly against his body.

THE ALCHEMIST

we will be forever as one, my brother under the sun