Grouse Thicket no more innocence left to spill

The spotted one spoke many words and only some of which fell on Solpallur’s ears. Little snippets and strings that he understood clearly, would have understood better if he had been listening closer. Instead his gaze had long stared past him, only bringing the curious creature into focus at the words do you want to hurt me?

He understood that and for a moment, the fiery nature that burned both ends of his soul wanted to tell him yes. But they were no longer entirely bound to violent ideals though they partook here and there in them. They felt similar to growing pains; Solpallur knew that they were no longer bound to a world where the rapid shift and alteration of things required them to always carry hostility. Yet it was difficult to yield to a sense of perpetual listlessness; a languorous lifestyle was not the sort of thing he saw for himself, or for Stjornuati.

A heavy breath of air flared his nose for a moment.

“This one knows we could,” he told them pointedly.

Perhaps most of all, Solpallur was bothered that he had been saw through, that his front had been so transparent. Shame should have burned in his cheeks rather than the tempest of anger that made his gaze seem opaque.