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As dusk drew closer, the swamp gradually broke out in song; cicada chirped and bullfrogs thrummed and magpies cried out. Fire Made Flesh would have taken great pleasure in being able to roast them all to a crisp if it was within his power to do so. Unfortunately, he could not breathe fire nor could he coax a bonfire to grow large enough to consume all the irritating life around him.

So the scaled and dreadful-appearing buck grumpily sprawled at the entrance to his cave and pretended to be asleep. His eyes were closed (as far as any passers-by could tell, but who would want to linger long enough to find out?) and his thin nostrils flared slowly and steadily as though his breathing was that of subconscious control. Even Molten, the little black snake that Flesh allowed to stay in his company, knew better than to get too close. The poor little guy was curled up in an unassuming pile of leaves of floral debris just inside the cave archway. Motherfather help anyone who strayed too close; Flesh really should be wearing some sort of warning sign- "danger: will not hesitate to bite!"

The gentlest breeze brought the delicate scent of a doe, all lightness and airy and feminine; Flesh snorted disdainfully and grumbled something gravelly and uninterested. But the scent grew stronger and then was accompanied by the light sound of what could only be a doe's hooves. It must be the doe that offended his faked-slumber and threatened to disrupt the already unquiet that Flesh was so exasperated with. A slit of pale and eerie yellowed-peach appeared where there was a moment ago only a heavy eyelid; the dragon-buck took note of the intruder with a disgusted sneer, his lengthy snout curling into a most displeased growl. With teeth exposed and tail beginning to lash back and forth and back and forth Flesh fully opened his eyes and locked his unnerving gaze upon the decidedly-feminine doe.

"Yesss, there's someone here," the buck harshly reprimanded the female. Could he never find a moment's peace in this damned swamp?! If it wasn't one thing, it was another; always with the wanderers and curious travelers. How often was it that one saw so harsh-appearing a kimeti? If Fire Made Flesh had an ounce of empathy or compassion he might forgive their curiosity, but he lacked both and instead could dish out only scorn and derision.

"Can you not see me here, girl?" Though she might be older than he, Flesh highly doubted it. He also lacked the respect for others to keep snide remarks to himself. And Motherfather forbid that the poor, unawares doe stutter one more time in his presence...

"Tsk, tsk," Flesh scolded the doe who really ungracefully fell all over herself. He wasn't even offended that she seemed to startled by his appearance. In fact, it was another opportunity for the kimeti to seize upon and twist around to inflict more discomfort upon the poor, pitiful doe who so unsuspectingly wandered right into his claws.

Well, you know- if he had claws.

But Flesh might as well have them instead of cloven hooves, especially with how his eyes turned hungry and sank into the white doe greedily, gobbling up the way she stuttered and got her hooves all tangled up in one another. It was almost too easy of a target, and if the buck had any sense of what pity was then he might allow her the opportunity to flee. But on the contrary, the buck pushed himself to all fours and stepped towards the doe menacingly. His body was thick and heavily-muscled, quite obvious even underneath the thick scales which covered 75% of him.

"You aren't sorry enough yet," he said simply and waited to see how the female would react.

A throaty growl escaped from slightly parted lips as Flesh bared his teeth and lowered his head to look at the fallen doe on her eye level. Was she scared enough? Was she appropriately apologetic? He had not been so forgiving in the past, sometimes drawing blood and leaving permanent bodily reminders of the other kin's transgression.

The scaled buck's tongue snaked out to draw a languid and lazy circle on Forgotten Feather's cheek, a seductive promise to the potential fun he could have.

"Give me one reason I should let you escape unscathed, my dear."

It was all Fire Made Flesh could do to keep himself from taking a bite out of the white doe's shoulder right then and there. Her pale, smooth hide looked so pristine and utterly chaste, he desired nothing more than to stain it red. Color her with the hue of her oversight. He hardly had the patience or self-restraint to wait, but somehow he managed.

And it was ultimately his undoing.

For the extra seconds Flesh allowed himself to marvel at his easy prey were all the time necessary for an overconfident eaglehound to show up on his doorstep and make its presence known. Small though it was it certainly did not lack for courage or surety; Flesh had no doubt that it would not hesitate to attack, and ow how he did not like to spill his own blood if he could avoid it.

"How valiant," the dragon-buck sneered derisively, issuing a rebuttal by way of gravelly snarl at both Forgotten Feathers and her eaglehound. At least, Flesh assumed it was hers. Why else would it come so quickly, at her precise moment of greatest need? Its unheralded arrival did nothing more than further incite the dragon-buck. Flesh lunged forward, possibly knocking his hooves against Forgotten Feather's head as he made a snap for the pesky little creature just inside the lip of his cave.

"You should not have come to her aid," Flesh growled harshly as he sought to close his teeth around the eaglehound's neck. "Now I have no choice but to take the life from you both!"

The fact that the eaglehound was not put off in the slightest by the scaled buck on incensed Flesh further. HOw was he not quivering with fear? Why was he not tucking tail and running away as fast as his small paws could carry him? It baffled the dragon-buck, and he did not enjoy being confused. It was frustrating; lashing out with his tail as quick as a whip, Flesh planted his front hooves and swung his hips around so as to give him a better chance of knocking the eaglehound clean across its skull with his thick and heavy-plated tail.

Fire Made Flesh had had plenty of interactions with an assortment of species; they usually ended with dinner and a nap. There were hardly any situations where the dragon-buck was not victorious; there was the rare occasion where the opponent was smaller and quicker and managed to weasel away, and the even rarer occasion where the fight was not worth the prize and Flesh let them walk away.

But the white doe somehow found her hooves and made a move to end the altercation but in the process quite nearly crushed poor Molten. The snake gave a furious rattle and hiss, altering Flesh to his predicament- oh, boy. Provoking the dragon-buck was one thing, but messing with his little snake-buddy? That was another problem entirely.

Flesh roared with rage and lashed out with his front hooves, aiming the cloven daggers at the eaglehound's vulnerable head once more. As he came crashing back down to the earth, Flesh made a lunge for Forgotten Feathers and attempted to knock her to the ground, hopefully successful in his attempts to pin her. Either way, he held his sharp-toothed mouth close to her face and rasped furiously at her- "if you can beg for your freedom without stuttering a single time, I'll let you go. If you cannot, I'll eat your eaglehound up slowly- and make you watch while I do it!"

[quote="appeal]

This was perfect. A surefire way to devour both the pesky eaglehound and his precious doe. Flesh trusted his instincts, and his instincts told him that under such pressure and in the face of such fear, there was no way that Forgotten Feather would have the ability to utter a single and pure word, untouched by the stuttering which was a byproduct of all her anxiety. As far as he was concerned, it simply was not possible. So Flesh held his head in the doe's face, snout a hair's length away from hers, his pale and pupilless eyes boring into hers with ravenous desire. Saliva dripped from his mouth as he envisioned how it would feel to sink his teeth into her pure, white flesh and watch the bright red blood bubble forth from the precise punctures.

A solitary challenging bark drew Flesh from his fantasy, begging his attention back in the cold reality of the dark cave. Bark all you want, dog, one way or another your doe will feel my teeth, thought Flesh in irritation as he swung his monstrous head around to peer towards the offending sound. But where the sound caught his attention, a wriggling motion held it in place. Molten. Molten. The tiny, black and gold snake that was Flesh's only precious companion, held fast beneath the filthy, disgusting, tainted paws of the cur who had the audacity to enter his home and challenge him! How dare he?! How dare he?!

As Motherfather would have it, this night would prove to be one of those situations, rare and fabled, where Fire Made Flesh would relent and allow his quarry to escape. With obvious reluctance the dragon-buck withdrew his body from over the white doe's, quite literally dragging his cloven hooves in the dirt-covered floor of the cave. His tail dragged dejectedly, scales rasping against stone and debris as he moved, the forlorn sound casting eerie echoes off the stone walls around the party of four. But the dragon-buck stood rigid and wrathful; if he could breathe fire, his nostrils would surely be smoking.

"Leave. Now," the buck bellowed savagely. If they wanted a chance to flee with their lives, the next five seconds would be their only chance.

How quickly they left was unbeknownst to Fire Made Flesh; his focus was solely on the little black snake. Was he hurt? Would he live? Molten assured his buck as best he could in his raspy little way that he was not hurt, no more than a bruised ego, and he would most certainly live. Live with a vengeance for eaglehounds and that goose-doe, as would the dragon-buck. The rest of the night would be spent curled up in the cave together, in relative silence save for a shifting of limbs or the rustle of passing winds.

The morning would bring no reprieve from the anguish of injured pride, nor would the next day, or even the next. Flesh was an intelligent creature with an acute mind and the grudge he bore Forgotten Feathers and her runt of a cur would last the span os his lifetime- and then some. It would likely be passed down to his children, and grandchildren too. They would not be hunted or persecuted precisely, but they were certainly not welcome near any of the dragonkin.

Not while Fire Made Flesh lived or lingered in memories.