Wild Berry Meadow pestilence-stricken multitudes

‘If someone walked up right now and attacked you, I'm guessing you'd fight back—’
 
Daighre snorted, at that, his posture low with his head in line with his shoulders and spine. He raised a single brow, expression unamused.
 
“You planning something, short stack?”
 
The moment went as fast as it came, dispersed with a shake of his head. He shifted his weight on his feet. And then, more somberly, apprehensive, his voice low—
 
“You talking about a god or some shit, Frosty?”

And here he thought better of him.