°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Trial of the Ancient °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
"Cute hair," Vulcan remarked from where he already perched on a low branch to a tree, his guide as still as the tree on the ground.
Yoa's scowl deepened at the harpy-eagle's words, but the held his tongue. His voice was not wasted on those who hadn't earned it. That right belonged to his kin, to those who walked beside him, not someone whose eyes was on the same prize. Vulcan was no friend… just a rival whose shadow grew longer by the day.
