signaled Rangars attack.
Kgnarling and biting.
The attack, however, was post swing, and the felineus weapon had
already launched ...
Crimson flew and scratched
... and then hit the ground.
Key watched as the mog flumped to a soft stillness.Is that blood ? that's not bloodHis look trailed back from Crimson, with bean gravy ... back to the bean.
That bigger than big bean, as it slowly emptied.No.
Mr. Crimson was lifeless. No.
NO.
glow.
The bean juice had changed the furry object. It felt strong. Righteous.
Anger flamed up inside Key.
Key, grandson of the noble Sir Walter Mt. Everest Openshoot, squeezed.
Openshoots DO NOT go lightly.
"NOOOO" came his battle cry as he ran and swung...Rage.
Slash.
silent.
1 comment:
these days it seems like you can't swing a dead cat without hitting an icontact.
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