She called me a milk drinker, she called me a milk drinker! A strumpet, a whore, a milk drinker. I curl my lip, looking at her with narrowed brows, nostrils flared. How dare she call me those names! She has no right to do that! I simply stated a fact, but she takes it to a whole new level. She wrongfully insults me, calls me things that I am not. I frown, and then smirk. "Are you just jealous?" I spit, ears flat. "Jealous that you can't feel freedom the way I can. You're stuck here to be the moody bitch you are."

Deep in the bottom of my throat I begin to summon a growl, silencing myself for I will need this breath, mouth gaping as I throw myself forward. I keep my wings tucked in, jaws gaping as I reach her left side, teeth hungry for the flesh of her left shoulder, if she remains standing where she is. If she doesn't, maybe I'll bite her face. Pop out those pretty eyes of hers, show her true pain. I want her to feel embarrassed, to feel pain, to see what it's like to suffer.

I keep my wings close for fear she may bite at them as I run away, muscles rippling under my dark coat, tense and prepared to spring. I buck out, crimson hooves raised from the ground as I aim at her right side, assuming she's still there, hoping to hit her square in the jaw. I want to knock out her teeth, scatter her blood across the floor. I want to ruin that face of hers so she becomes a true monster—

inside and out.

I can't tell if there are tears in my eyes because of the rage or because of the fact that I see Delinne's faint body, her maw gaping as she cackles. I shake my head, vision blurred. I cannot go crazy— I am not crazy. I snort, facing the bitch. "Come at me!" I howl, my voice ringing out through the Thistle Meadow. The sun beats down onto my back, I pull my wings closer. I was going to struggle away from all of her attempts to bite off my wings. There was no way I was going to allow it. She would not be taking home a piece of me as a prize to show.

That is— wherever this monster lives.

I run back at her, hooves pounding against the earth, that split moment where my muscles tighten, my muscular quarters tight as I launch at her, teeth snapping and hooves flailing. I was going to rip her to pieces, break in her legs. The legs! As I'm leaping towards her I spread my wings, gliding and bringing my legs down towards where her right foreleg should be, if she hasn't moved. I tuck in my wings for the last few feet, tucking in my neck and keeping my wings tight. Break her knees, yes, break her knees.
"Talking"