Andrev couldn’t think for the pain. Kir rose up, the tiny horn clutched in his fist, and turned to the cheering, roaring hordes of hunters who had come to see the monster laid low. Andrev tried to move, to push himself up so he could crawl away, but his body had betrayed him, and he was frozen on the ground. A hollow ache gnawed in his chest, a counterpoint to the raging fire in his skull.
“The creature is laid low,” Kir said. “This is for my father.”
And he knelt to cut off the second one.
Andrev screamed again.
1 comment:
I'm betting Kir is going to regret that. I wonder if you're going to describe each horn because I'm not sure I can take it.
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