Bonesplinter Ravine [M] ‘Cause Anything’s Better than the Way I Feel Right Now

Machiavelli’s stomach turned, anger and need warring within him as he glared down at Herod, golden-pelted and grinning. He needed to think—needed a way out—but his mind was spiraling. The scent of the flowers hung heavy in the air, clouding his thoughts and making it impossible to focus. Just once… he could quiet his mind. Just enough to figure out how to save Eira and himself.

One last time. Until he could get back home.

The Prophet stepped forward, hips swaying on uneven steps and damaged legs, and settled onto Herod.

Images of his paws pressing heavily into the man's neck until the veins bulged and the golden eyes popped danced darkly in his mind.

Comforting.