Urna didn't particularly care about the wild dog, or for her companions' apparent regard for his well-being. Bet you wish you had more of a pack with you now, huh? Her eyes slid from him onto the bigger problem.
Enya was out of chances, as far as Urna was concerned. The leader of Duskorna couldn't be allowed to just frolic back on home out of Verdantis' territory, not unless they wanted to prove every stereotype of weak-willed pushover Ohrians true. How long until the rival kingdom decided to push their luck again?
Urna trotted a wide semicircle around the duo as Quinn said his piece, watching them for weakness the same way she'd size up a herd on a hunt. "Lying isn't a good look for you," she said. Her muzzle crinkled, lips pulling back to reveal more of her teeth. "We don't want a fight"—blatantly untrue in her case, but her good, diligent comrades likely wanted a peaceful resolution—"but you understand we can't just let you go." Firelight sparked between her jaws, and Urna spat a low blaze racing across the pebbled shore, singeing a clean, straight line between the intruders and the route back to Duskorna.
The flame smouldered down almost instantly, as much an effect of the damp environment as any control on her part, but its path—and its message—was still clear.
The words came out before she could check herself, before she could defer to Quinn as the higher rank or to Gabriel as the one who encountered them first. "You're coming with us."
Enya was out of chances, as far as Urna was concerned. The leader of Duskorna couldn't be allowed to just frolic back on home out of Verdantis' territory, not unless they wanted to prove every stereotype of weak-willed pushover Ohrians true. How long until the rival kingdom decided to push their luck again?
Urna trotted a wide semicircle around the duo as Quinn said his piece, watching them for weakness the same way she'd size up a herd on a hunt. "Lying isn't a good look for you," she said. Her muzzle crinkled, lips pulling back to reveal more of her teeth. "We don't want a fight"—blatantly untrue in her case, but her good, diligent comrades likely wanted a peaceful resolution—"but you understand we can't just let you go." Firelight sparked between her jaws, and Urna spat a low blaze racing across the pebbled shore, singeing a clean, straight line between the intruders and the route back to Duskorna.
The flame smouldered down almost instantly, as much an effect of the damp environment as any control on her part, but its path—and its message—was still clear.
The words came out before she could check herself, before she could defer to Quinn as the higher rank or to Gabriel as the one who encountered them first. "You're coming with us."