Filthy Two-Legs

“It was less than I was hoping for…” a feminine voice floated through Cael’s head as he lay on the dusty ground. His shoulder ached from breaking his fall, but otherwise he thought he was fine. He glared across the pen and met the creature’s obsidian gaze as she pranced along the thick fence, her wings tucked in tightly against her sides.  

 

“Alright ya git,” he said as he rolled to his feet.  “Stop fighting me. I need to do this, and ya know it. Just hold still and we will be done in a split sec.” Cael’s bruising shoulder ached when he shrugged. He held up the small glass vial in his hand. “Just enough for this.”

 

“Screw you, Cael,” her voice filled his thoughts again. He sighed.

 

“It takes barely any time,” he argued out loud, but the creature across the pen blatantly ignored him, instead turning her rump in his general direction.

 

“I hate it. I just want to go home,” she called to his thoughts.

 

“It’s sorta your fault for getting caught by them bastards in the first place.” He was hot, tired, and sore as hell. He didn’t need to play nice.

 

She turned to him then.  The shining black fur that covered the Pegasus slowly disintegrated into burned, ashy flesh as she revealed the left side of her face. Her vortex-like black eye was milky white on that side, and Cael knew it was useless now. As useless as her burned left wing. He swallowed thickly at the sight as she slowly crossed the pen and stopped before him.

 

“Well it’s your fault, Cael, that anyone was near my home in the first place.” Her hide trembled with barely contained restraint, and Cael readied himself to be pummeled by her stony hooves. After a moment he wet his lips.

 

“I didn’t mean to, I swear it.”

 

“I don’t care. Take your blood, you filthy two legs.” She turned her head away and he hurriedly unsheathed the knife from his belt. He sliced across her beautiful black shoulder and watched as the black blood ran into the vial he held. Before it was half full, she turned and stomped away. Or at least, he imagined she stomped. He didn’t know if horses could stomp.

 

“I’m not a horse,” the voice snapped in his head and he sighed heavily as he closed the clasp on the top of the vial. He held it up to the sun and watched as the little specs floated and spun in the sunlight.

 

“It was less than I was hoping for…” he echoed her jibe from earlier about his fighting.

 

“Get out of my pen, two legs.”

 

Cael hurried to the door, which was opened for him from the other side. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her lower her beautiful head almost to the ground. Not knowing if it would work or not, he sent a silent vow to help her escape. She didn’t react except to flick an ear in his direction before the tall gates slid shut again.

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