"It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be."
Of course he is more bold and more impatient than a sun god (and of course he thinks his wings must seem like might shadows to blot out the sun to the elk below). Veer does nothing to check his speed as he dives for the largest Elk at the front of the herd.
Even Elif cannot catch his attention now (although perhaps he does arch his neck a little bolder to taunt her). He knows who she thinks he is, of course he knows.
The Black Falcon killed her brother after all.
Veer (or rather the Black Falcon) attacks as a carrion bird does, all feathers and teeth, hunger and blackness. He is made for this violence and war. There is a lovely hint of feral rage in the way he slams into the elk. His teeth clack like Najjad's beak as he lunges for the creature's throat as he tries to push it down, down, down into the same snow it thought to bury them all in.
His hooves scrabble across the snow and each bit of ice that cuts into his skin only pushes him deeper down into that pit of fury, blood-lust and joy. At his side his wings push against the wind and snow to keep him from tumbling down with the elk. The horn of the elk cutting into his neck does nothing more than make him snarl and snap like a wolf.
Over and over he snaps and strikes in a flurry of aggression. Later there will be time for pain and regret, but now--
Now there is only death.
