Moonspear i’m through with bibles, and i’m through with food

A simple explanation was all it ever took. Dragomir, who was nervous about the dangers of going after large game as a duo, suddenly felt his gut swoop uncomfortably. He hadn't thought of the merits of sending prey crashing down the mountainside but it made sense. A flash of nauseating anxiety crackled across his mind as he recalled, very invasively, how effective it'd been when Merrick threw him off the cliff and how easily he could've died if his broken bones nicked an artery...

No, stop it, he berated himself. It's not the same. It's just prey.

He realized his nape was prickling and took a long, steadying breath. The air was thinning. They must be getting close. He was getting better these days about admitting his limitations, but he was loathe to admit to Arcturus that the thought of startling something off the mountain cut a little too close to the bone for his liking given his experience with it, so he simply nodded and said, yeah, of course. He had to get over it. That one experience didn't define him and he couldn't let it control him.