Meadowlark Prairie In the number of times I punched with my fist

First there came the copper scent, which was so pungent that the smell alone was able to coat his tongue, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. He had smelled it once before, back during the feast. It was the same smell that had eventually started to come from Desna’s wound, making the child certain of what it was. Blood. He knew not who it belonged to, nor did he really care. Not wishing to give up his spot, he stayed sitting right where he was, butt planted to the ground no matter how strong the scent became. He knew there was something approaching him, something that was injured. Perhaps, his devilish mind thought, he could take down whatever creature possessed the odor. Nemesis had mentioned him making a good killer, so why not put those words to the test—or so the original plan had been. As a voice sounded from close by, yelling at something or someone, he put his plan on hold. It was then that the scent of wolf was able to break through the metal-like fragrance. Someone must’ve gotten attacked, or maybe the injuries were caused by one’s own stupidity. Whatever the case, it didn’t matter to him. What mattered was how close the aroma had gotten to his space.
 
Despite the strengthening of the odor, he did not get up and carry on his merry way. He stayed in his spot, the idea of leaving because of someone else being a notion his pride just wouldn’t allow. Then it happened. Something bumped into his back region, making his body whip around with record speed and hackles stand on end instantly. Bearing his teeth at whatever had hit him, he almost didn’t realize that he knew the fool daring enough to walk right into him. Though the force of the younger’s body colliding with his own hadn’t been nearly as strong as it would need to be in order to cause actual pain, it’d been just enough to send a jolt through his body due to his bruise. It was hidden, of course, beneath his thick coat of fur, but being out of sight did not mean it didn’t exist. Someday, he’d get payback on the wolf who’d done it to him, but for the time being his attention clung to something else. The other boy had spoken his name. The other one recognized him. That alone had his lips dropping back down over his teeth and his fur flattening back out some, but not entirely. He’d brought Xan out of defense mode just long enough for him to get a good look at him, to see who exactly the other boy was—Leo.
 
“You look terrible,” the elder pointed out, a smug tone taking hold of his voice. He had never liked the sand-coloured child, having always believed he was out to steal his mother from him. Now, however, he didn’t care. He could have her. She’d always liked him better, anyways. The good boy who didn’t cause any trouble, being quite the opposite of the young albino. “What happened to you? Did you try to make yourself at home with another family, and end up being rejected by them?” Though he felt Leo could go ahead and take Scarlett, that he could have her without a fight, he could not keep the bitterness he felt from seeping into his voice. His instincts nagged at him, encouraging him to jump the other child and show him who was in charge as he’d done so long ago, but he refrained from doing so. He kept his paws glued to the ground, tail raised and head up. He no longer had a mother to protect, and yet there was still something about the lion that unsettled him. “What are you doing here?” Alexander questioned suddenly, gaze narrowing into a look of suspicion. Maybe he’d planned to bump into the pale coated boy. As ludicrous as the seemed, even to Xan, he couldn’t help but consider it.