Bearclaw Valley By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,

God. No, this was no god. No god that he would claim. This was some demon from the underworld, and the sight of the ruddy male above only served to solidify that fact. 

Dipped in fire and brimstone. Not a dog. . .something more.

And Fraser had little time to ruminate on what exactly this demon could be, for then he pounced, flying toward the deerhound, a flaming coal.

Ach! he exclaimed, voice guttural and caught in his throat. The laughing boy barreled into his side, and he only kept his footing for a moment before going down, down, his gangly legs unable to hold his wobbling weight. 

Fraser hit the ground and saw stars, felt his breath leave his lungs with a dramatic gasp. There was barely room for panic, now; he was fighting for his life, and turned his virgin fangs to the devil's pelt.

If he could—if he could just —