Moonspear blood makes atonement for one's life

She was small but swift, more akin to a dust mote than any bird; he barely registered her touch as she probed at his pelt, only wincing when Kukutux pressed too tenderly upon the exposed tear in his lower back where Arcturus had grappled. A hind leg kicked out, claws gouging the dirt, and though he tensed all over and bore his teeth like a grimace, he forced his head down against the dirt chin-first, fighting the urge to spiral and defend himself against that touch. It was not her fault. The gargoyle ached physically but it was his internal anguish that plagued him now; images of Arcturus' teeth plaguing his mind's eye, memories of Hydra's fangs against him.

The tiny flowers had been crushed beneath his leonine shape, and when the pain subsided in a wave, he lifted his chin again and took note of how bright those tiny buds remained - but then his eyes dulled, and a ragged breath pulsed from within. He takes note of a subtle change to Kukutux' scent in that moment and his brow creases — he cannot determine if it is the similarity to Ying's scent that surprises him, or the fact he can recognize the scent of his brother Jarilo hanging lightly upon her coat. In the end he cannot look at her, and remains at her mercy.