You're moving quickly, recklessly in the foliage with an intent I cannot help but admire. Even in your cowardice ways you still seem to hold some determination. You are quick on your healing limbs, the scabs fading back into the ivory snow that is your coat. You are learning to ignore me now, but soon you will slip back into the vicious circle I have created for you. My fingers curl in beckoning and though you do not heed my call I know I will claim you as mine once more. Keep feigning bravery boy, make yourself feel like you're actually the one in control here.

I will be in control soon, you snap back at me, teeth clenching together in an attempt to intimidate me. But we both know this is all a ploy, a wolf in sheep's clothing in hopes that I shall perhaps call your bluff and run away. Keep thinking I am not you lad, keep assuming that you are pure and innocent like your tribe thought you to be. You may have been royalty there, but here you are nothing more than scum on the ground. If anything you are my pet, my precious trinket that I will never release. Our bond is forever, and no weapon you wield can ever break it. But please sweet Timothy, my little alabaster lamb, continue to dream and hope for yourself, because I will be waiting patiently for when reality finally sets in.

You find the hot springs with ease, yet you don't notice the beautiful femme who is relaxing in them. Perhaps it is your sheer tunnel vision or your lack of interest in socialization whatsoever, but you seamlessly walk past her with purpose in each step, before grabbing any morsel you can find to gorge yourself with. Golds, purples, blues and pinks, all melding together between your jaws as you hope that the concoction will finally put an end to me. You swallow, take a deep breath then forage again, with reckless abandon, hoping to fill yourself gluttonously to end the pain quicker. Have you not realized yet little Timmy? That it is not me who is causing your suffering, but you? Believe it or not you are the puppet master here my boy, and I am merely a willing puppet.

Your motion is abrupt as a berry goes down the wrong tube. You snort, then begin to try and clear your throat. Soon its tightening around the lump and you're wheezing, trying to catch breath in hopes that maybe you can overcome this obstacle. For this may be a way to die, but it is not the way you wanted to go. You feel that this means I win, and that you will never truly be free. Falling to your knees you continue to gasp, no sound escaping except for the lashing of your feathered tail. Your eyes have begun to bulge and your lips are growing purple. To think this is how it would end for you; on my terms and not yours...