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A harsh wind blew a chill through the swamp heralding the closeness of winter; it was the kind of cold that encouraged kin to stay in their beds and savor the warmth and comfort which sleep brought. Scales offered little protection from the numbness upon the wind, but Flesh at least had the forethought to make his home in a mossy cave. The thick stone walls offered more shelter from the elements than scales alone could while the amplified the howls and eerie wails produced by the tempestuous drafts. But it was much preferred to being caught out unawares in the middle of such a frigid storm.

A dark-scaled snake slithered unceremoniously across the cave floor, its tongue darting out then back in quickly as if it were put off but the chill in the air. He wound his way amongst the floral debris on the ground, body crunching over fragile leaves and brittle twigs. Finally he found his spot, between the folded front legs of his scaled buck; Fire Made Flesh was stationary by the cave's entrance, simply watching. Molten wound his body as tightly coiled as he could manage, head coming to rest on the topmost ring so his beady eyes could peer off in the same direction Flesh's were. And so the two remained, perhaps for hours, simply watching.

For all the outward world it appeared as though Molten had the first inclination that something, someone strange was approaching. The little snake quivered as he lifted a small length of his body, raising his head so that perhaps his beady eyes could peer farther past the cave's entrance. With a flicker of his tongue out, in, Molten curved himself so he could instead look upwards now at Fire Made Flesh, hissing urgently.

"I know," was all the Dragon had for a response. He knew that Molten was riled up about something. Someone had to be approaching, and strangers they did not have any particular affinity for. In a rare show of affection, the scaled buck dipped his hard snout down to nose at Molten reassuringly before he pushed himself onto all four legs, shaking his pointed tail out behind him as he rose. Surely the motion of Flesh suddenly rising would have gained the red and purple buck's attention; Flesh could see him clearly from where he was standing, snake still coiled between his front legs. Molten was perhaps more wary than Flesh. The buck at least had size on his size where Molten was small, even by his species' standards.

No matter. The strange buck would not be staying for long.

"Do you always enter strangers' homes so carelessly?" Like rocks kicked across the cave floor, Flesh's gravelly voice slithered to the stranger, begging his attention and response.

There was the show of submission that fueled Fire Made Flesh's inner fire, the head drop that indicated fear and resignation. It was the signal for the scaled buck to push harder and not relent. He was neither easy nor soft, if his scales were any outward indication of the harsh personality within.

Where Fire Made Flesh previously hissed, he now growled. The gravelly outpouring of aggressive discord directed at the red buck went hoof-in-hoof with a sudden movement; the lash of his angry tail was clear indication of his rising temper. Bitter Heartbeat was an easy target, all too easy. The obvious signs of weakness were visually delectable to the violent buck, his eyes lacking pupils roaming hungrily over the malnourished body of his home's invader.

"You would do well to learn some manners," Flesh offered helpfully- or at least it might have been helpful were he not considering taking a bite out of Bitter's hindquarters.

PErhaps he had originally intended to stoke a fire within the red buck, but a descending gloom would suit his purposes just as well. It made no difference to Flesh whether or not the intruder was angry or despondent. His goal was only to provoke and incite, to cause emotional distress and play mindgames. If Bitter Heartbeat wanted to wear defeat instead of rage, Flesh would not object.

Surprise was suddenly etched in the hard scales over the dragon-buck's face, he had definitely not expected the melancholy red buck to fire back with such quick and sharp words. Flesh sneered down the length of his tough snot, issuing a challenging glare at the trespasser upon his ground.

"Why should I have manners towards the one who enters my home without welcome? Do you always greet criminals with grace and poise?"

Just the briefest of moments passed between one buck's words and the next, but it was enough time for Flesh to study the red one. He seemed all too like a fledgling for the first time testing its wings, unsure of how the actions would truly work but having seen it done before was confident enough to try despite the chance of blatant failure. It would be difficult for the dragonbuck to recount failure of his own, either by his definition or the standard. Neither had happened enough in his life to remember clearly.

This intruder was interesting, to say the least. Flesh had initially pegged him as anxiety-ridden and downtrodden, completely unsure of himself and incapable of producing any sort of defense. It was not in Flesh's character to believe that someone could change. So this perplexing twist of behavior on Bitter Heartbeat's part was both intriguing and frustrating.

"So they don't," Flesh agreed readily. Neither could the words describe him; neither grace nor poise was an admirable quality as far as Flesh was concerned. He preferred strength and mental acuity. "Is that as clever as you can manage?" Flesh's voice was droll, showing the beginnings of his boredom with this encounter.

His initial reaction was a harsh growl, a warning for the suddenly brazen red buck to mind his tongue. But Flesh had no words for the male, only thin-lidded eyes that held the promise of imminent violence if they remained on the same path. But distraction was provided swiftly in the form of an old blue turtle, meandering and slow- and so Flesh was quickly informed, blind.

"How did he find his way in here indeed," readily agreeing though loathe to admit it, Flesh voice the same question as Bitter Heartbeat. "How did you both find your ways in here? To my home, of all places? And why are you still here?" In much the way a crotchety old man might shout out his front window at rowdy children playing on the front lawn, Flesh angled his shoulder towards the red buck and turtle while also stepping backwards and raising his voice.

There was a turtle slowly making its way across the cave floor, very slowly moving towards the cave entrance and its chosen companion. Molten was not pleased. The slithery little serpent made quick work of the distance between itself and Fire Made Flesh, coiling protectively around the dragonbuck's cloven front hooves. Hiss, hiss, hissss- Molten was none too pleased to have a doddering, blind, old turtle in his lair.

Flesh dipped his head briefly, nose touching the snake's upreached head in a rare show of affection and reassurance. While his head was lowered, Flesh's eyes sought out the red buck and made unforgiving contact. "Leave." The dragonbuck's demand was harsh and compelling- little did he know the decision had already been made.

Unbearably slow indeed, Flesh could hardly find the patience to remain rooted and simply watch the turtle slowly. Plod. Across. The. Floor. While the red buck's companion made his crawling and slothful progression, the dragonbuck's companion wound himself in a tight tizzy around Flesh's front legs. The black-and-gold snake hissed threateningly, his unhelpful way of trying to urge the turtle to haste. Flesh would not give the red buck satisfaction in eliciting another rise; he simply leveled a harsh glare the the male as his angry words leaped forth.

Somehow the red buck had found courage, or perhaps just a temporary substitute for it in rage. The fact that he had managed so summon the amount of confidence necessary to hold his ground against Fire Made Flesh in such a short span of time was surprising, and infuriating. When he had first appeared, he had been a stuttering and nervous mess. Now he was directly threatening the scaled buck.

Quite frankly, what had happened?!

Flesh stomped one cloven hoof angrily, shaking his head as if he was shaking out a mane of hair along his neck while watching Bitter Heartbeat to make sure that he kept moving away from the cave. And Bitter Heartbeat better hope that Fire Made Flesh was eaten before they saw eachother again- because it was unlikely that Flesh would let the red buck escaped unscathed again.