Twisted Slough i wish you'd die in the mire

The comfortable familiarity that Magpie spoke with made him want to vomit what little fare he had in his stomach; possessives where he deserved none. He owed him nothing, Magpie was nothing to him, nothing at all. Just a thorn in his side and an unbearable monster that plagued his sleepless nights. The casual encroaching on his space, he wanted to lash out, wanted to bite and gnaw at anything he could reach, but he feared that even if Magpie were stricken blind, he would still haunt him.

He knew better. He never should have allowed him near, he should've run, should've risked it. Cormorant let out a shrill cry even as he felt little pain, if any at all. His front legs were tipped and trapped against the bark too quickly. He met the ground with a strangled wheeze, falling onto his back and side without any chance to readjust. The sound of the other's laugh in his ears made him kick out, uncaring of the muck that dirtied his fur as he writhed in it. Maybe if he were disguised by it, Magpie would turn his nose in disgust.

He kicked violently, frantically, blinking his eyes clear even as the echo of Magpie's laugh tainted his ears and swept him away in a layer of hatred and terror. His teeth gnashed at air, unable to find any angle. Instead, he cried out, eyes tragically warm with unshed tears, Get off!