#rewroted

(I was inspired by the snippet y’all posted) and I used my brother’s and my pronouns

You do it for faer

And you would do it again

You do it for feir, that is to say

You’ll do it for faer

Keep your stance wide

Keep your body lowered

As you’re moving forward

Balance is the key

Right foot; left foot

Now go even faster

And as you’re moving backwards

Keep your eyes on me

Keep my stance wide (Good)

Keep my body lowered (Right)

As I’m moving forward (Concentrate!)

Don’t you want faer to live!?

Right foot; left foot

Yes, but put your whole body into it!

Everything you have, everything you are

You’ve got to give

On the battlefield

When everything is chaos

And you have nothing but the way you feel

your strategy and a sword

You just think about the life you’ll have together after the war

And then you do it for feir

That’s how you know you can win

You do it for feir, that is to say

You’ll do it for faer

Deep down you know

You weren’t built for fighting

But that doesn’t mean

You’re not prepared to try

What they don’t know

Is your real advantage

When you live for someone

You’re prepared to die

Deep down I know

That I’m just a human (True)

But I know that I can draw my sword and fight

With my short existence (Good)

I can make a difference (Yes, excellent!)

I can be there for faer

I can be faer knight

I can do it for faer

You’d do it for feir

Okay, now do that again (Yes, Captain.)

You do it for fier, that is to say

You’ll do it for faer

The gaze that returns the Father’s question is one of such flat incredulity that even the eye with the milky cataract seems judgemental. That was a stupid question, his leathery face all but screams in spite of its lack of expression. The sort of question someone lying to himself says, when he can hear the truth loud in clear in his mind. Beast. Beast. That’s what you are, liar. Henry’s heard this lie too many times from himself to tolerate it from anyone else.

His left arm twitches in the sling that hides its true length, an odd sharpness of claw being the only hint there might be something wrong with it. But the experienced hunter can smell the stink of beast easily, and Henry reeks of it. A primal urge tells Henry to kill the blind hunter in self-righteous fury and suck the marrow from his bones. He wonders if other hunters feel the same blatancy to their urges before he chokes the impulse out.