Silvertip Mountain thestral

Dragomir fought and struggled against Astara's teeth and Sanguinus' grip both, but he had no real fortitude left and the ebbing adrenaline was leaving him dizzy and incoherent. He couldn't seem to find purchase on the ground with his paws as he was hauled from the cavern to the cliff's edge. Only when he realized what was coming did he managed to press back, slamming his feet into the ground so hard that they skidded painfully over the stone, but he was no match for Sanguinus. The cruel, torturous devil was too strong for him.

MOM! screamed Dragomir, MOM! HELP! MOMMY! But there was no one to hear his cries as he was shoved into open air. Time froze momentarily, and then his heart and stomach both found their way into his throat as he plummeted. The distance was considerable and he landed with both hind legs straightened reactively; both snapped sideways as he tumbled with a bloodcurdling, piercing sound. The slope was steep and he rolled and bounced for several long moments, feeling other parts of his body cracking as he went, before finally slamming into a boulder near the base of a gentler incline. His cheek impacted the stone first, slicing the skin and fracturing the bone, before he crumpled in an unconscious heap.

over the edge of the stone dragomir's form went -- gone in an instant. astara need not peer over the brim to see the catastrophic scene below -- she heard it. the sickening crunch of his limbs, the whoosh of air crushed from his lungs... all of it formed a pretty picture in the wraith's mind, one which scarcely needed re-imagining.

what did she feel, following this? astara knew not the word for it, but it stuck to her heart and thrummed between her ribs all the same. a strange and darkly buzzing excitement, one that did not fade or weaken.

the forest lulled from its loathsome silence into something busy again; insects stirred, wings fluttered -- somewhere in the distance the wind picked up between a ridge of tall fir, howling to itself as it tore down a dark and unknown ravine. astara turned to merrick, her indigo no match for the fire in his gaze -- she preened his cheek in return, and then legged nimbly after him.