"Which part?" Uryuu returned, raising his eyebrows.
His mouth still open, he would have continued, explaining each. He didn't know what the creature was, except that it looked like a salamander and oozed and burned. It had clearly produced the sound. That he had pierced it with an arrow; his aim inexcusably poor in that he had only hit the tail.
He would have said all that, and probably quite a bit more, if not for the interruption. Another inexcusable thing: how long it took him to notice. He should have looked up, accounted for the sky. He should have, but he didn't, and it was only by a fluke that he caught it peripherally. Lifting the bat, he was again examining its weight as he gathered his explanation, and beginning to reach back to try and stuff it in his case.
In tilting his head, he noticed. A funny irony, one he did not pause to appreciate: the last winged creature he had faced, he had rudely interrupted with an attack. She had chided him, but he wouldn't have the chance, or waste the words on it. Nor did he have the time to regret his mistake. It was almost upon him, and though he made to step back, hissing damn, to deflect with the bat and also bring up the bow (as if it was a shield, and she had also crowed at him that it wasn't, and it certainly wouldn't hold up now, as weak as it was in this place), he braced himself because he knew:
no subject
His mouth still open, he would have continued, explaining each. He didn't know what the creature was, except that it looked like a salamander and oozed and burned. It had clearly produced the sound. That he had pierced it with an arrow; his aim inexcusably poor in that he had only hit the tail.
He would have said all that, and probably quite a bit more, if not for the interruption. Another inexcusable thing: how long it took him to notice. He should have looked up, accounted for the sky. He should have, but he didn't, and it was only by a fluke that he caught it peripherally. Lifting the bat, he was again examining its weight as he gathered his explanation, and beginning to reach back to try and stuff it in his case.
In tilting his head, he noticed. A funny irony, one he did not pause to appreciate: the last winged creature he had faced, he had rudely interrupted with an attack. She had chided him, but he wouldn't have the chance, or waste the words on it. Nor did he have the time to regret his mistake. It was almost upon him, and though he made to step back, hissing damn, to deflect with the bat and also bring up the bow (as if it was a shield, and she had also crowed at him that it wasn't, and it certainly wouldn't hold up now, as weak as it was in this place), he braced himself because he knew:
It was too late.