Silvertip Mountain finchbit, moss-pecked

Buzzard found joy in making the man’s accomplice tick. They snickered when he lashed out at them. Call them stupid for poking the bears, but they hardly cared at this point.
They stood up on weak legs when the priest gave orders to his minion. Suddenly all the joy was wiped from their face and soul. Anger and frustration soon took its place.
There was no chance of Buzzard slipping away, not in this decrepit state. Even knowing this they spat, No the fuck I don’t. They wouldn’t go out without a fight.