The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

His attacks miss by a hair's length, and all Clay can manage to snap between his jaws is air. Air and the bitter breath of the man talking over him, his deep voice enough to vibrate directly into Clay's chest, echoing beside his heart and breathing some sense into it.

But not enough for the boy to snap back into reality.

The only thing coherent enough to the prince is Vegenace, and the massive paw that so easily turns him over as if he was nothing but a branch. Weak. Airless. He grunts at the impact, or maybe just the fact that he's displeased he's being rolled over so easily. Regardless, the motion of him being moved, and his back now pressed to the soggy ground has him squirming more.

But he cannot move.

He's trapped between the man and the ground, caged under with nothing to do but stare upwards with a trembling gaze and jaws that quiver. He's licking at his lips—fearing growing more and more as he stares at the man. And then, Clay screams. He screams as loud as he can, aiming more bites at the man, paws flailing as he attempts to smack at the offender above him.