Moonspear prey to none

She thought she might vomit, it hurt so much. Treepie turned her snout to the side, though the urge dissipated as the acute pain devolved into a terrible, throbbing ache. She let out a breathy moan and peeled open her eyes, just in time to see Kindle yark beside her head.

She flinched her muzzle the other way, though there was no way of avoiding the terrible noise Kindle made as he upchucked, nor the hideous smell of it as his bile ate through the snow. Pie felt a hot fleck or two hit her cheek, prompting her to give a little cry and roll to the side.

This left her own forelegs trapped beneath her, though she unceremoniously yanked them free and let out yet another small, pained sound as the movements jostled her bruised flesh. She somehow sat up, eyes flicking to see what had become of Kira and—

Wyvern! she shouted, her voice coming out an entire octave higher than usual.

Whether deterred by Kira’s swat or Tiuttuk’s admonishment, the nightjar beat her wings and quickly ascended out of reach. Pie’s yellow gaze bounded between bird and woman, woman and bird, and she exhaled in relief when neither appeared to be hurt.

But there was Kindle. Where had he come from? And why had he puked in her face? Pie’s brow furrowed as her eyes dropped to him now. She should probably offer to help him, though she was so puzzled by his presence that she just peered down at him for several seconds.

I think you might’ve castrated me, she said through a grimace. Grasping for some levity, she continued, I’m not entirely opposed, though your method was brutal and probably not eff—

Abruptly, she remembered Kira perhaps didn’t know about Treepie’s assets. Her mouth clapped shut with a click as warmth crowded her neck. She supposed it wasn’t a big deal—she’d been ready to share this part of herself with the Lazore before—but she couldn’t tell which shriveled more just now: her balls, or her soul.