Kayla Silvercat- Thankee, Oi'll amember that. I don't mind when or how you
read the story, just thanks for reading it! I thought some people would
have objections to a Badger Lord or something so I decided to ask. No one
did so I will continue on unhampered I guess! Thanks once again for R&R!
Acoustical Ferret- Yeah, that was the FIFTH chapter. I'm barely getting started. Hold your horses, but just for you (umm, not really but. . .) there'll be a little tidbit aboard the Bloodrut. And yeah, you probably won't see any surrealism here, unless you count tarot cards (oops, I said too much!). To bad you don't like writing with Badger Lords. I think they're really cool. And yeah, Jyda did act a little unrealistically but I thought I mentioned that Nanda makes her own medicine and Brini used the last of it for her wound. Yeah, I did mention that. TOO BAD. J/k (sure hope you know what that means by now.) Ifitoldyoui'dhavetokillyo- Sure hope this chapter's actiony (look at the title) enough. I mean, it's a storm, be happy, don't worry, thanks for reviewing!
Songbreeze Swifteye- (Just gotta say, I love your name!) Ew, I hope that the coughing blood thing goes away! I'm sure glad that you like Jyda! My story seems to be really expanding from its humble beginnings. So that's a yes, hopefully I can get a Badger Lord in there. I've had a very ingenious idea. Let's see if I can work it into the story. Oh and thanks for the compliment on my songs, I've found that I enjoy writing them!
Arwen-Galadriel- Thanks for the ego boosting as always, and I'm glad that you like my characters. Don't worry about Nanda, she still has a part to play. Thanks a bunchload for giving me your favorite characters. And thank you for logging in!!!
***
Of Action and Satisfaction
By Catty Engles
On the corsair ship, Bloodrut, things were not all well. Splitear, the slave master, sat on an overturned barrel. He rolled his dagger over and over in his paws, tracing the plain, but infuriatingly unmistakable steel. He grimaced. It was perfectly recognizable. Recognizable as the blade that had been found next to the equally infuriating scene of the escape. Two slaves gone. Gone in one night, one fateful night that had his neck on the chopping block. His grimace turned even harder. No slave had ever escaped him and now two in one night.
Splitear fidgeted nervously. After the excitement had blown over, it was now a prime time for the captain to call him into his cabin where the inevitable lurked. The weasel was simply delaying his doom. As if to match his mood, the skies were stormy and the waves wind whipped. Under this same sky happy creatures danced on a ship far away, but, unfortunately, Splitear would not appreciate this scrap of knowledge.
A rat strode toward the failed slave master purposefully, a self-important bounce accenting his ungainly swagger. "Cap'n wants to see you." The rat said in a husky, imperious voice. Splitear trembled with nerves, but he put on a brave face.
"Gerroutofit, yer only the cook's lad, norra messenger."
Splitear, none too gently, pounded the rat's stomach. His inflated chest whooshed out, revealing a small potbelly. The rat's voice took on a whining tone. "How'd you know? You weren't supposed to know!" Splitear smiled fiendishly, proving that misery does love company. The rat, however, would not be deterred. He flounced alongside the sullen Splitear, milking his temporary promotion for all it was worth.
Splitear finally disposed off his unwanted escort at the door to Captain Milkeye's cabin. It was stifling hot inside. A fire was burning in a small grate. The flu hadn't been swept recently. Chalky smoke swirled in the musty interior. It laced around hickory furniture that graced the cabin, intricately carved and gleaming in the firelight.
Captain Milkeye was garmented in a velvet doublet. A glass monocle was mockingly balanced in front of his sightless eye.
Splitear gulped.
A jeweled scimitar was balanced on Milkeye's knee. He fingered the emerald pommel stone lovingly. When he spoke, his voice was a sticky sweet combination of oil and honey, "Did you see her, Splitear?"
Splitear was always awed by his captains cultured diction, but what he had said had knocked the weasel dumb. It was completely unsuspected. All he could manage was a small, "Sir?"
Milkeye did not seem mad, but his voice held a menacing tone, "The squirrel, Splitear. The DEAD squirrel whom we cast adrift a few seasons back." Splitear was at a loss. He knew that the wrong answer would spell death for him. He couldn't risk a false description. The weasel's mind went blank.
Milkeye sighed. He had been hoping it wouldn't come to this. "The one with the bad mouth." Splitear's memory was jogged. He laughed simply, smiling at the recollection.
"She were a spirited 'un cap'n. Why d'you ask?" Milkeye wandered to a porthole that was positioned in the cabin. He polished his monocle on an embroidered handkerchief, staring out to sea.
"If you want to live long enough to see another sunset, it would be wise for you not to question my motives. Is the prow headed to Sampetra?"
"Aye, Cap'n."
"Tell the bosun to move us two points south. I have a score to settle with that impudent squirrelmaid." As Splitear left the cabin, Milkeye replaced his monocle. His paw lingered on his sightless eye that had earned him the name Milkeye. "You'll pay for this, squirrel."
***
The winds were high, whipping the sails cruelly. Their snapping was what awoke Twyler. Dawn was only just kissing the horizon, a delicate thread of light, stark against the ocean's consuming mass.
The otter skipped up the main mast to balance on a boom. She recklessly hung over the water with one paw her only anchor. Twyler was sometimes still amazed at the mind-boggling vastness of the frothy ocean. Spray spattered her face. This, combined with the humid air, made the moisture condense on her fur. An unbidden shiver rippled over her body.
Twyler jumped down from the mast. She marched purposely towards the for'c'sle cabin and on to Jyda's bunk. The otter nudged her captain. Bleary eye, Jyda rolled over to face Twyler, only half awake.
"I've got chills, Jyda."
Jyda's eyes snapped open. She hurried out of bed, quickly stretching stiff muscles. From seasons of companionship, Jyda knew to take her friend's chills seriously. The two stumbled out of the for'c'sle cabin. Jyda felt the sudden drop in temperature and the particular smell of rain. There was to be a storm at sea. Jyda immediately began to wake the crew.
"Furl sails! We're in for a big'un!" Twyler still stood on the deck sniffing experimentally. The wind rippled through her fur like the shivers that crawled up her spine.
"Another chill." Twyler whispered. The otter slowly pivoted on the spot. In the distance, a white sail smudged the endless world's rim, an all too familiar white sail.
"Jyda! Bloodrut!" Jyda peered at Twyler questioningly from atop the sail she was folding. The otter pointed, without even glancing at her captain. Jyda's keen eyes found the sail, and she cursed wildly. Freya shook her head in disgust.
"Sails open! Let's see if we can outrun 'em! Hoist 'em now!" Jyda shouted to her crew.
Friga rolled her eyes, "Make up yer derned minds!" She muttered.
Kessy had seen the white sail as well. "Outrun them? Into the storm?"
Twyler bounded into the rigging to help with the sails. She stopped momentarily as another chill crawled up her back. In a husky whisper, Twyler said to herself, "This will not go well."
After unfurling her sail, Friga skipped nimbly down the mast. The mousemaid conducted a quick calculation in her fertile mind. Taking into consideration: the wind, sail proportions, and estimated amount of crew, Bloodrut would overtake them in an alarmingly short amount of time.
Friga stomped past Jyda. They were both cursing brutally, hearing each other, they stopped abruptly. After exchanging a brief, understanding smile, they continued on their way, Jyda to her spyglass and Friga to fetch her bolas. The mousemaid stopped and looked back at Jyda. Her captain walked purposely with grace born of strength. Friga grinned proudly, glad to be under her command. She strutted away, trying to impersonate the squirrelmaid.
Twyler was standing, tightlipped. She handed Jyda their brass telescope. Through the eye, it was plain that Bloodrut's formidable amount of sails and galley slaves would soon give them the advantage. They didn't have until noon.
Jyda spun around to look at the oncoming storm. The waves were thrashed into rollers that could breast any ship's railing. The green tinged sky cast a forbidding pal over the surrounding sea.
Bloodrut was closing in fast, it's sails taught. A snaggletoothed fox gripped the gunwales nervously, "We're headin' sthwaighth fer a sthorm! Wath are we goin' tha do?" He lisped. Captain Milkeye was pacing the deck irately and in earshot. He lashed out at the hapless fox, glad to have a vent for his spleen.
The fox cringed and backed away quickly. "Idjit." Muttered Milkeye. The Queen was coming into view, unfortunately so was the storm. Milkeye turned to his crew.
"Rally to me, mates!" Slipping into corsair slang he announced to them, "Dis in't the firs' time we've come across dis ship, but it'll be da last, eh bullies?" The corsairs gave a rowdy cheer. "Dis crew is naught but a few maids, who've lost their way headin' to a picnic. We'll pound 'em inta mince-meat, we will!" More cheers. "But belay, me hearties!" The crew quieted. "We've go' an empty galley bench and a mad mistress waitin' fer us at Sampetra. So grab the wee lassies an' see 'ow they cry as pris'ners. We'll rope ourselves plenny 'o booty for dis haul. So gee up fer battle, 'cus we'll die like kings if'n we pull dis one off!" Bloodthirsty cheers were swallowed up by the pounding storm.
Jyda hurtled through the rigging. The storm condensed above, belching forth the first onslaught of rain. It wet the wood, making it slippery. Jyda stopped at a sail not yet furled. She bent to the task of folding it. A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly on the rope. The waterlogged tethers were taught and salt encrusted, making them hard to bend. The following thunder jolted through the ship, rattling its timbers.
Warm paws descended upon hers and worked the struggling rope into a suitable knot. Jyda smiled without turning around, "Thanks, Ren the Rogue."
As an answer, the squirrel gave Jyda a two fingered salute and shot off to the next sail. Jyda dropped back down to the wet deck. The waves were churning under the hull, pitching the helpless ship in its fury. Droplets of rain dripped into Jyda's eyes. She squinted, baring her teeth, into the fierce gale.
Bloodrut was almost upon them.
Nanda stood in a corner, coughing painfully. Her wet, cotton dress plastered itself to her tiny form. She shuddered in the cold. This was the moment that Bloodrut breasted the distance between the Queen and itself. Screaming corsairs swung over the thrashing waves for the second time. Interminable bolts of lightning and rips of thunder illuminated the creatures' faces.
The fight had begun.
Jyda had managed to obtain another scimitar from a dead ferret. Her footpaws pounded on the deck. She raised the sword to strike when a roller hit the port side, slamming her against the gunwales and pummeling her with untold strength. Her breath was pounded from her lungs. She gasped, breathing in only water, until she was tugged from underneath by a pair of strong paws.
Twyler grinned down at her, "That time, you didn't look much bored." Jyda smiled wryly and re-engaged the enemy in battle.
Ren had been caught in the rigging. Two weasels found him furling another sail. One smiled grimly, slashing out at the squirrel. Lightning illuminated the sail in front of Ren. The weasel's shadow was thrown into sharp relief. The dagger he held was revealed. Ren threw himself to one side but not quickly enough. The blade grazed his shoulder, quickly turning his jerkin crimson.
He cried out. Thankfully, it was during a lull in the storm, for Jyda heard.
Nanda was curled behind two barrels, slipping in and out of consciousness. Her cough had always been bad but never like this. She was weak beyond comprehension. Coughing was draining her of her flickering strength. A footpaw tripped over her arm, and Friga fell beside the mousemaid.
Friga's eyes widened in shock, "Nanda?" Nanda's eyes flickered once more before she surrendered herself to a merciful sleep. Friga took in her friend's prone form, including the dried blood around her mouth.
A rat and a ferret closed in on the two mousemaids. Friga quickly stepped in front of Nanda and twirled her bola menacingly. The balls clacked together as they gained momentum. Nonetheless, the stupid rat kept advancing. With a practiced flick of her paw, Friga caught one of the balls and sent the other crashing into the rat's head. He fell, dead. Friga dashed for her weapon, but the ferret was too fast for her. He kicked it away, out of her reach. Friga raised her paws into a fighting stance and clenched them into fists as visions of acclaim and glory began to fill the ferret's head.
Jyda hurtled up the mast, barreling through one of the weasels and managing to fling him off into space. He landed with a sickening thud. Ren was draped over a boom, the remaining weasel advancing upon him. The vermin precariously balanced on the wet, pitching sail. Jyda's muscles bunched as she threw herself at him, "NO!"
A horrific expression of disbelief transfixed the rat as he fell, taking Jyda's scimitar that had pierced him through the belly, with him.
Jyda tied Ren's sleeve into a makeshift bandage over his own wound. "How many times am I going to have ta save you?" She asked with tears in her eyes.
Ren coughed and whispered, "Just one more time." He fainted from the pain.
Jyda's fur stood on end. The storm gathered its fury above the Queen. Something from the outside world sent prickling bolts of electricity rippling through her fur. Jyda knew what was happening but not in scientific terms. Lightning was ionizing her for a strike.
***
Yes, this really does happen before a lightning strike.
Acoustical Ferret- Yeah, that was the FIFTH chapter. I'm barely getting started. Hold your horses, but just for you (umm, not really but. . .) there'll be a little tidbit aboard the Bloodrut. And yeah, you probably won't see any surrealism here, unless you count tarot cards (oops, I said too much!). To bad you don't like writing with Badger Lords. I think they're really cool. And yeah, Jyda did act a little unrealistically but I thought I mentioned that Nanda makes her own medicine and Brini used the last of it for her wound. Yeah, I did mention that. TOO BAD. J/k (sure hope you know what that means by now.) Ifitoldyoui'dhavetokillyo- Sure hope this chapter's actiony (look at the title) enough. I mean, it's a storm, be happy, don't worry, thanks for reviewing!
Songbreeze Swifteye- (Just gotta say, I love your name!) Ew, I hope that the coughing blood thing goes away! I'm sure glad that you like Jyda! My story seems to be really expanding from its humble beginnings. So that's a yes, hopefully I can get a Badger Lord in there. I've had a very ingenious idea. Let's see if I can work it into the story. Oh and thanks for the compliment on my songs, I've found that I enjoy writing them!
Arwen-Galadriel- Thanks for the ego boosting as always, and I'm glad that you like my characters. Don't worry about Nanda, she still has a part to play. Thanks a bunchload for giving me your favorite characters. And thank you for logging in!!!
***
Of Action and Satisfaction
By Catty Engles
On the corsair ship, Bloodrut, things were not all well. Splitear, the slave master, sat on an overturned barrel. He rolled his dagger over and over in his paws, tracing the plain, but infuriatingly unmistakable steel. He grimaced. It was perfectly recognizable. Recognizable as the blade that had been found next to the equally infuriating scene of the escape. Two slaves gone. Gone in one night, one fateful night that had his neck on the chopping block. His grimace turned even harder. No slave had ever escaped him and now two in one night.
Splitear fidgeted nervously. After the excitement had blown over, it was now a prime time for the captain to call him into his cabin where the inevitable lurked. The weasel was simply delaying his doom. As if to match his mood, the skies were stormy and the waves wind whipped. Under this same sky happy creatures danced on a ship far away, but, unfortunately, Splitear would not appreciate this scrap of knowledge.
A rat strode toward the failed slave master purposefully, a self-important bounce accenting his ungainly swagger. "Cap'n wants to see you." The rat said in a husky, imperious voice. Splitear trembled with nerves, but he put on a brave face.
"Gerroutofit, yer only the cook's lad, norra messenger."
Splitear, none too gently, pounded the rat's stomach. His inflated chest whooshed out, revealing a small potbelly. The rat's voice took on a whining tone. "How'd you know? You weren't supposed to know!" Splitear smiled fiendishly, proving that misery does love company. The rat, however, would not be deterred. He flounced alongside the sullen Splitear, milking his temporary promotion for all it was worth.
Splitear finally disposed off his unwanted escort at the door to Captain Milkeye's cabin. It was stifling hot inside. A fire was burning in a small grate. The flu hadn't been swept recently. Chalky smoke swirled in the musty interior. It laced around hickory furniture that graced the cabin, intricately carved and gleaming in the firelight.
Captain Milkeye was garmented in a velvet doublet. A glass monocle was mockingly balanced in front of his sightless eye.
Splitear gulped.
A jeweled scimitar was balanced on Milkeye's knee. He fingered the emerald pommel stone lovingly. When he spoke, his voice was a sticky sweet combination of oil and honey, "Did you see her, Splitear?"
Splitear was always awed by his captains cultured diction, but what he had said had knocked the weasel dumb. It was completely unsuspected. All he could manage was a small, "Sir?"
Milkeye did not seem mad, but his voice held a menacing tone, "The squirrel, Splitear. The DEAD squirrel whom we cast adrift a few seasons back." Splitear was at a loss. He knew that the wrong answer would spell death for him. He couldn't risk a false description. The weasel's mind went blank.
Milkeye sighed. He had been hoping it wouldn't come to this. "The one with the bad mouth." Splitear's memory was jogged. He laughed simply, smiling at the recollection.
"She were a spirited 'un cap'n. Why d'you ask?" Milkeye wandered to a porthole that was positioned in the cabin. He polished his monocle on an embroidered handkerchief, staring out to sea.
"If you want to live long enough to see another sunset, it would be wise for you not to question my motives. Is the prow headed to Sampetra?"
"Aye, Cap'n."
"Tell the bosun to move us two points south. I have a score to settle with that impudent squirrelmaid." As Splitear left the cabin, Milkeye replaced his monocle. His paw lingered on his sightless eye that had earned him the name Milkeye. "You'll pay for this, squirrel."
***
The winds were high, whipping the sails cruelly. Their snapping was what awoke Twyler. Dawn was only just kissing the horizon, a delicate thread of light, stark against the ocean's consuming mass.
The otter skipped up the main mast to balance on a boom. She recklessly hung over the water with one paw her only anchor. Twyler was sometimes still amazed at the mind-boggling vastness of the frothy ocean. Spray spattered her face. This, combined with the humid air, made the moisture condense on her fur. An unbidden shiver rippled over her body.
Twyler jumped down from the mast. She marched purposely towards the for'c'sle cabin and on to Jyda's bunk. The otter nudged her captain. Bleary eye, Jyda rolled over to face Twyler, only half awake.
"I've got chills, Jyda."
Jyda's eyes snapped open. She hurried out of bed, quickly stretching stiff muscles. From seasons of companionship, Jyda knew to take her friend's chills seriously. The two stumbled out of the for'c'sle cabin. Jyda felt the sudden drop in temperature and the particular smell of rain. There was to be a storm at sea. Jyda immediately began to wake the crew.
"Furl sails! We're in for a big'un!" Twyler still stood on the deck sniffing experimentally. The wind rippled through her fur like the shivers that crawled up her spine.
"Another chill." Twyler whispered. The otter slowly pivoted on the spot. In the distance, a white sail smudged the endless world's rim, an all too familiar white sail.
"Jyda! Bloodrut!" Jyda peered at Twyler questioningly from atop the sail she was folding. The otter pointed, without even glancing at her captain. Jyda's keen eyes found the sail, and she cursed wildly. Freya shook her head in disgust.
"Sails open! Let's see if we can outrun 'em! Hoist 'em now!" Jyda shouted to her crew.
Friga rolled her eyes, "Make up yer derned minds!" She muttered.
Kessy had seen the white sail as well. "Outrun them? Into the storm?"
Twyler bounded into the rigging to help with the sails. She stopped momentarily as another chill crawled up her back. In a husky whisper, Twyler said to herself, "This will not go well."
After unfurling her sail, Friga skipped nimbly down the mast. The mousemaid conducted a quick calculation in her fertile mind. Taking into consideration: the wind, sail proportions, and estimated amount of crew, Bloodrut would overtake them in an alarmingly short amount of time.
Friga stomped past Jyda. They were both cursing brutally, hearing each other, they stopped abruptly. After exchanging a brief, understanding smile, they continued on their way, Jyda to her spyglass and Friga to fetch her bolas. The mousemaid stopped and looked back at Jyda. Her captain walked purposely with grace born of strength. Friga grinned proudly, glad to be under her command. She strutted away, trying to impersonate the squirrelmaid.
Twyler was standing, tightlipped. She handed Jyda their brass telescope. Through the eye, it was plain that Bloodrut's formidable amount of sails and galley slaves would soon give them the advantage. They didn't have until noon.
Jyda spun around to look at the oncoming storm. The waves were thrashed into rollers that could breast any ship's railing. The green tinged sky cast a forbidding pal over the surrounding sea.
Bloodrut was closing in fast, it's sails taught. A snaggletoothed fox gripped the gunwales nervously, "We're headin' sthwaighth fer a sthorm! Wath are we goin' tha do?" He lisped. Captain Milkeye was pacing the deck irately and in earshot. He lashed out at the hapless fox, glad to have a vent for his spleen.
The fox cringed and backed away quickly. "Idjit." Muttered Milkeye. The Queen was coming into view, unfortunately so was the storm. Milkeye turned to his crew.
"Rally to me, mates!" Slipping into corsair slang he announced to them, "Dis in't the firs' time we've come across dis ship, but it'll be da last, eh bullies?" The corsairs gave a rowdy cheer. "Dis crew is naught but a few maids, who've lost their way headin' to a picnic. We'll pound 'em inta mince-meat, we will!" More cheers. "But belay, me hearties!" The crew quieted. "We've go' an empty galley bench and a mad mistress waitin' fer us at Sampetra. So grab the wee lassies an' see 'ow they cry as pris'ners. We'll rope ourselves plenny 'o booty for dis haul. So gee up fer battle, 'cus we'll die like kings if'n we pull dis one off!" Bloodthirsty cheers were swallowed up by the pounding storm.
Jyda hurtled through the rigging. The storm condensed above, belching forth the first onslaught of rain. It wet the wood, making it slippery. Jyda stopped at a sail not yet furled. She bent to the task of folding it. A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly on the rope. The waterlogged tethers were taught and salt encrusted, making them hard to bend. The following thunder jolted through the ship, rattling its timbers.
Warm paws descended upon hers and worked the struggling rope into a suitable knot. Jyda smiled without turning around, "Thanks, Ren the Rogue."
As an answer, the squirrel gave Jyda a two fingered salute and shot off to the next sail. Jyda dropped back down to the wet deck. The waves were churning under the hull, pitching the helpless ship in its fury. Droplets of rain dripped into Jyda's eyes. She squinted, baring her teeth, into the fierce gale.
Bloodrut was almost upon them.
Nanda stood in a corner, coughing painfully. Her wet, cotton dress plastered itself to her tiny form. She shuddered in the cold. This was the moment that Bloodrut breasted the distance between the Queen and itself. Screaming corsairs swung over the thrashing waves for the second time. Interminable bolts of lightning and rips of thunder illuminated the creatures' faces.
The fight had begun.
Jyda had managed to obtain another scimitar from a dead ferret. Her footpaws pounded on the deck. She raised the sword to strike when a roller hit the port side, slamming her against the gunwales and pummeling her with untold strength. Her breath was pounded from her lungs. She gasped, breathing in only water, until she was tugged from underneath by a pair of strong paws.
Twyler grinned down at her, "That time, you didn't look much bored." Jyda smiled wryly and re-engaged the enemy in battle.
Ren had been caught in the rigging. Two weasels found him furling another sail. One smiled grimly, slashing out at the squirrel. Lightning illuminated the sail in front of Ren. The weasel's shadow was thrown into sharp relief. The dagger he held was revealed. Ren threw himself to one side but not quickly enough. The blade grazed his shoulder, quickly turning his jerkin crimson.
He cried out. Thankfully, it was during a lull in the storm, for Jyda heard.
Nanda was curled behind two barrels, slipping in and out of consciousness. Her cough had always been bad but never like this. She was weak beyond comprehension. Coughing was draining her of her flickering strength. A footpaw tripped over her arm, and Friga fell beside the mousemaid.
Friga's eyes widened in shock, "Nanda?" Nanda's eyes flickered once more before she surrendered herself to a merciful sleep. Friga took in her friend's prone form, including the dried blood around her mouth.
A rat and a ferret closed in on the two mousemaids. Friga quickly stepped in front of Nanda and twirled her bola menacingly. The balls clacked together as they gained momentum. Nonetheless, the stupid rat kept advancing. With a practiced flick of her paw, Friga caught one of the balls and sent the other crashing into the rat's head. He fell, dead. Friga dashed for her weapon, but the ferret was too fast for her. He kicked it away, out of her reach. Friga raised her paws into a fighting stance and clenched them into fists as visions of acclaim and glory began to fill the ferret's head.
Jyda hurtled up the mast, barreling through one of the weasels and managing to fling him off into space. He landed with a sickening thud. Ren was draped over a boom, the remaining weasel advancing upon him. The vermin precariously balanced on the wet, pitching sail. Jyda's muscles bunched as she threw herself at him, "NO!"
A horrific expression of disbelief transfixed the rat as he fell, taking Jyda's scimitar that had pierced him through the belly, with him.
Jyda tied Ren's sleeve into a makeshift bandage over his own wound. "How many times am I going to have ta save you?" She asked with tears in her eyes.
Ren coughed and whispered, "Just one more time." He fainted from the pain.
Jyda's fur stood on end. The storm gathered its fury above the Queen. Something from the outside world sent prickling bolts of electricity rippling through her fur. Jyda knew what was happening but not in scientific terms. Lightning was ionizing her for a strike.
***
Yes, this really does happen before a lightning strike.