Tormented Tarns “Doin’ my Spooky Boopy dance, tonight.”

That splash of red caught the coy by the brain and wouldn’t let go. He fell upon the splatter of blood  left behind by the massive food, lapping at the delicious elixir. Nirnroot or maybe some more of that birdberry would go swell with this. It had a slight river of nuttiness to it-

Something gigantic smashed into his shoulder, and sent him careening into the walls of the cave-like mound of granite. But instead of him breaking free, those heavy trap jaws held him and the sack of twiggish limbs flailed as his right shoulder began under siege. As many terrible angles that he could muster, neck twisting to and fro, the awful warlock was possessed to shred whatever he could reach. 

He was being interrupted from his meal! Food was not meant to fight back! 
But he loved it. That agony that frosted through his seething body cooled him with love; the food loved him! It loved him, and it didn’t want to let him go! S’crow apppreciated the beastial caress, and even pushed his wiry body further into those wintry jaws. 

“Love me harder”, he near rumbled a terrible crave to the savage in the lair with him. The ruin felt so good! It was a refresh to the mad heat the spirits had looped him with, and he wanted so much more. If attacking this man would make it so,

then so be it!

The Scarecrow wrenched his slender neck backwards again to snap a lovely series of pain to whatever they latched to, whether they be the tender cleft of ear, or the air right beside it. A nose or a gullet, a barrel or a bullet!