Dawnlark Plains corinthian

In his peripheral, Atreus saw his brother lunge, only to fall back. He slowed his own step, turning his head properly to assess Ancelin. He was still running, though there was blood in his mouth. He spat.

Atreus felt riled by the sight and faced forward again, eyes narrowing on the deer. He suddenly pumped his legs harder, keen to avenge Ancelin by putting the prey in its place: dead, on the ground, beneath their teeth and claws.

But, of course, he was neither swift nor an adept hunter. The young ungulate evaded him, springing out of reach and disappearing. It left Atreus no choice but to slow, then stop, panting.

Fuck you, you fucking asshole! he raged futilely at the deer’s hind. I’m going to hunt you down and kill your ass!

Turning and trotting back to Ancelin, he asked, You okay?