It is better to stand and fight.
If you run, you will only die tired.
The coiled tension snapped. Like a cornered rattlesnake, she struck. Her words, sharp and venomous, lashed out as she surged forward, a whirlwind of movement. She planted herself squarely before him, her hot breath ghosting against his skin while she demanded the return of what he'd stolen. For a heartbeat, surprise flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an infuriatingly amused smirk.
"I can't simply just give it back," he mused, the words hanging in the air. It was more complicated than that. He'd found the Badlands deserted and ripe for the taking, and if he hadn't claimed them, someone else would have. "But actually the Badlands does belong to me now."
He raised a brow at her continued tirade, then nodded sadly as she dissolved into tears. He understood her rage; he, too, would be devastated if his entire life had been uprooted. His own life had been marked by such losses. His father, a perpetual wanderer, had abandoned countless homes, forcing his family to rebuild from scratch time and again. He knew intimately the anguish of losing the stability and security a home provided.
"Would you like to go back to the Badlands?" he inquired, his icy blue eyes filled with empathy.
King of the Badlands
ICELANDIC X - SILVER GRULLO SABINO CHIMERA - 14.3 HH
