Arrow Lake It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is

He remembered when the ladies dug him last time. He'd been a mere wisp of spirit clinging desperately to his mortal corpse, which had been buried some days past. They were macabre witches seeking a dead man's seed to bring half-dead children into the world, to whom they could impart their demonic arts. He'd watched them dig him up, dig through the clothes he'd been buried in, and...

No, he wasn't going to continue down that path. That reality was a grim one indeed. He swallowed whatever mucus he'd managed to extract from Vercingetorix's nostrils with some disgust. Thankfully, it wasn't going to last very long. His father puffed a short blast at him and Drago reeled as if he'd just taken a stun ray to his kisser. His mouth stretched wide in an indignant yawp, then he struck again, this time finding somewhere on Verx's thickly furred cheek with his gums. Here he attempted to latch on, smearing his sire's face with gooey infant saliva in search of a tit to suckle from.

Meanwhile, a tiny pink paw strayed ever closer to the black warrior's eyeball.