Thunder sounded loud and true, cracking like a whip as the downpour of cold, stinging rain ran through his coarse fur, dragging the tip of his bloody sword over the ground. They had taken his friend, they had stood in his way, they had to die for the mistake they made. He panted, his breath blooming in the cold air as the grass beneath his foot pads crunched. Looking ahead in a ditch between the hills, he growled. His red scaled friend was tied with his hands behind him, his maw gagged, legs tucked under him, and a blindfold over his eyes. His tail was lying to the side, bent awkwardly in a new angle. His anger flared up again, his eyes going to cold and hard, at the same time also coming alive and burning with hatred.
With each slow step, he got closer and closer to his friend and the one who had taken him. That religious beast with an arrogant head had taken the red scaled being for being a healer, with medicine and herbs. The feline couldn’t have someone going