Golden Glade forced into their true shape

In place of discussion, she complains. Natjuk takes the final sliver of flesh and swallows it with a lick of his lips. It had not been his intention to hurt her, either. Alas, here they are.

Grim thoughts brew in his mind. She speaks of "being mean," so he has to wonder what goes on in that head of her's. Last he checked, this was the wild, neutral ground. And she, a rogue. There is nothing "nice" about being a loner. It's a hard, hard life and not everyone makes it out alive. What is to become of her spouting nonsense at the mouth?

Nothing. She will be food if she comes for him again, though.

Disinterested, he makes to leave, rivaling her glower. His teeth glint perilously. Keep your distance. If she did, he would retreat into the brush, never to be seen by the likes of her again.