Kintla Flatlands But Death Had Caught You in a Bad Mood

The other’s jaws parted, and Daighre braced.
 
But the blow never came, never landed, and instead, all he heard was the hollow clack of teeth closing on air over his head. It was salt and soot rubbed into the wound. And with it, the fire of humiliation burned.
 
He snarled. Snapped at the air in return, teeth landing on nothing as they moved away, hefted their weight up and away.
 
He scrambled in return, rose to his feet, his tail tucked between his hindlegs and his ears pressed taut against his head.
 
And—
 
Fuck them.
 
Fucking, self-important fucking bastard. A coward too good to draw blood, and instead relied on cheap, bird shit tactics like throwing his weight around. Fucking bullshit.
 
He slunk away.
 
Kigipigak walked the other way, the little that remained of Daighre’s dignity in his grasp, whether he knew it or not.