They had their blood, their pain, their tears--no screams, impressively enough--but Gir wanted the kill. He had been denied a taste of the monster's Fear during the all-too-brief skirmish, and he wanted
more.Evan was usually inclined to give Gir what he wanted when it came to dealing with their prey, but they had something
better than the momentary satisfaction of watching a creature dissipate and knowing that they were the cause of it. They had
souvenirs. He tried to convey the importance of that to his weapon as he dismissed it over Gir's outraged and indignant howls.
Whatever, Evan thought at him, far too used to the ruckus to be swayed by it, and bent to pick up the whole and undamaged wing. It was lighter than it looked and sat in his hand much like a kite, just waiting for a strong breeze to pick it up and carry it off.
The other wing, the broken one, crumbled further when he tried to take it, and Evan felt a momentary flash of anger that manifested as a soccer kick to the already beaten monster's ribs. He had
hoped for a matched set, but he would have to make do with the one.
Wordlessly, he turned and left the mess he had made of the room and the creature, more than happy to let it bleed out now that he had been denied his trophies but already thinking about what he would do with the one he had. Maybe he would present it to Sasha as a gift, or give it to Ami for whatever spooky Life research she did that he didn't want to know about. Maybe he would pin it on the wall of his room--start a collection. He had never seen the point of collecting insects before, but now he thought he was starting to see the appeal.
