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In the dim dank caves under the mountains of Pyrriah, a hidden bigwing worth two cows sneaked away from his siblings.
Clay numbly stalked into the next cave over. He didn’t register the sound of the running water, nor the feeling of rocks digging into his feet. He ambled next to the river and sat down; the routine was familiar to him. He didn’t feel his right claw as it rose off the ground. His eyes glazed over automatically. And unconsciously, his throat tightened excitedly in preparation.
He heard Kestrel’s voice in his mind: “Lazy mudwing…” “...eat too much…” “...pudgy dragon…” “Be my monster…” Clay used to remember that these weren’t actually the words Kestrel said to him, but after so long, he didn’t care.
The haze of Kestrel’s words distracted him from the feeling of his claw at the back of his throat.
His body lurched at the movement of his claw. His brows furrowed. He lurched again. His legs tensed, his stomach tightened, but still nothing. Again. The third time he lurched, he felt himself push past the point of no return.
He heaved.
His stomach purred
His neck pulsed.
Nectar poured away.
Bile lovingly kissed him goodbye.
His mistakes were being undone.
With a wet splash in the river, the deed was done. Clay opened his eyes, not realizing they were closed. He felt empty: wonderfully, graciously empty, and saw streaks of green and brown being erased by the river.
Something like satisfaction bloomed in his mind. And yet, his limbs were sapped of energy, he was trembling slightly, and a bitter taste was left in his mouth. He ignored it, and walked out of the cave like nothing happened.