Sucking in a deep breath, there was a brief pause before he exhaled.
"That was intense…" Nero muttered.
His voice sounded small in the open space, swallowed quickly by the forest around him. The clearing had gone quiet again, the unnatural stillness settling back into place as if the violence had never happened. No howls followed. No distant cries answered. Even the wind seemed to hold itself back.
Nero frowned and flexed his fingers slowly. The muscles in his hands trembled in protest, the dull ache traveling up his forearms and into his shoulders. His grip still felt tight, as if he were holding something that was no longer there.
Then he glanced in the direction of his throw.
His brows trembled.
"My spear… My catch…"
His throw had completely eviscerated the body of his catch. There was no corpse to kneel beside, no torn flesh to harvest from. The thing had ceased to exist in any meaningful way.
