Qeya River aggressive goose

Fuckin bit me!

The creature hadn’t really broken skin, really the clamp of its beak hadn’t done anything but bruise her. But Phoebe wasn’t above pointing her little fingers at something and sending the mama warhead at it.

The goose, seeming to realize it had gone after the wrong toothy predator, tries to run the way it had come. Phoebe watched as her ma ran past her, a flurry of teeth striking to maul the goose, and she cackled a demonic little cackle, shooting forward to grab at the weird feet of the goose, to destabilize it so her ma could grab for its dumb neck.

Even if she should have just left the goose alone, Phoebe did not care much at all.