[ Thick black-red blood oozes the gash, matting its fur. Demigods tend to be...complicated. No two are the same; he never knows what it might be hiding (the last one revealed an extra mouth on its belly, a discovery he made up close), and the truth is, he no longer has as much practice killing monsters that can match him. It's been some time since the local wildlife posed a threat. And there are only so many demigods to hunt.
Or perhaps, after nearly a thousand years, his age is finally catching up to him.
Either way, the creature's swiping tail lashes quicker than he anticipates, a blur of red—though he swears it's suddenly longer than it was a second ago. They fall into a tangled ball of feathers and teeth and sticky blood, rolling down the hillside towards Rocket. ]
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Or perhaps, after nearly a thousand years, his age is finally catching up to him.
Either way, the creature's swiping tail lashes quicker than he anticipates, a blur of red—though he swears it's suddenly longer than it was a second ago. They fall into a tangled ball of feathers and teeth and sticky blood, rolling down the hillside towards Rocket. ]