Fenn flattened another small tree as he passed, nose pointed in the direction of the scent he had caught. Occasionally he caught sight of something that clearly indicated the presence of his quarry, such as footprints and crushed plants. Once he noticed a small clump of severed vines lying on the path, the ends cut so neatly he doubted it had been done with an ordinary weapon. The idea that an artefact of such unbelievable power as that sword could have been used as a machete made even Fenn, whose body was as a weapon in an of itself, distinctly uncomfortable.

As they marched, the hound found his attention diverted. Even as Fenn attempted to focus his ears on the sounds of the jungle, it was inevitable that he would catch the conversation that took place a few paces behind him. As he resolved to snap back at the Imp and the Magpie to quit their chatter, the human’s words reached his ears.

“But either I make it somehow, or I die and I’m free of this mess. Win-win.”

Fenn stopped very suddenly, though the reason was not that he had caught wind of a threat nearby. Much the opposite. The jungle around them was eerily quiet, the animals having retreated at his advance, and the sounds of battle that reached him were still distinctly far away. 

“Hoh?” Even the slight breeze that made the underbrush rustle seemed to have frozen, as though the jungle was holding its breath. 

It was the words that had given him pause. Fenn quickly recognized it as the bravado of an anxious youth, one attempting to ridicule their fears in order to make the burden easier to shoulder. However, the message conveyed by the words themselves struck painfully against something unsightly within the dog’s mind. Such words tossed out so carelessly made the whole of his being seethe. 

How could he take that as anything other than an invitation?

The demon craned his neck towards Souta, a predator’s eye falling on him like an executioner's axe. Even with the flames that often surrounded Fenn’s dark coat notably absent, his body radiated oppressive heat. The towering behemoth began to turn with deliberate slowness, keen fangs bared in a lupine smile as he faced the young man. “In that case, you should not mind if I devour you here. Humans do not make for satisfying meals, but mayhaps those carcasses you carry will add to the flavor,” rumbled the words from the hellhound’s chest.

The large beast took a ponderous step towards the small human. And the other participant in the conversation stood in his path.

Lily stopped mid-stride and turned slowly away from Souta to face Fenn. She took a single step forward and looked up at the larger demon, eyes flickering dangerously but otherwise expressionless. When she spoke, she did so slowly as if choosing each word with care. 

"Fenn," she began, “Did I not tell you to restrain yourself?" Her tone, neither threatening nor scolding, still managed to sound loaded with a single message: Do not cross me.

A light breeze swept over the proceedings, like an exhaled breath. Fenn’s still-alert ears twitched, and the spell was broken. The demon’s expression went from murderous to vaguely exasperated, as though slipping out of a mask, and the tense atmosphere vanished.

Lily gave him an irritating smile.

He glared at the Imp that saw fit to interrupt his game. For the demoness that stubbornly held onto her carefree demeanor, even the bulk of her commands rather pathetically taking the form requests, she had been oddly forthright in her interruption.

His eyes fell on the human again and comprehension dawned on him. 

“Truly, Imp? This one? I thought you to have a more discerning palate.”

“Oh? What would you look for in a man, pray tell?” she asked with mock curiosity.

Fenn knew he was being made light of, so he replied in kind. “More meat on their bones, to start with.” Even as a joke, the words came out drenched in acid.

“Is that jealousy I hear, Fenn?” Lily asked, her smile becoming a grin.

The dog snorted, instantly dismissing the idea. "Hardly. I ought to pity the fool.” Then his brow furrowed, and his gaze was drawn away as he remembered himself. “Or perhaps not. 'Tis the folly of all males to happily fling themselves into such snares." 

“Even you?”

“Once.” Fenn bared his fangs and gave her a sardonic look. “I tire of being trapped, I’m afraid.”

She nodded. “Understandable.” She then looked pointedly behind Fenn, to the trail he had been following. “Now, I believe we were trying to find someone?”

Fenn sniffed as the Imp none-too-subtly brought them back to more immediate concerns. “Be silent, then,” he admonished, returning to the path as though having lost interest. “I shall not bear the blame if the enemy hides the sound of their approach under your prattle.”