Feza, in truth, was not aware that any of her sporadic movements had landed on their intended target. The snow leopard's panic had frozen her against the ground, unable to get up and return to her feet. It was cold terror that gripped her. When Wormwood had backed away for a moment, the vibrant feline finally began staggering back into a stand. Her feathered wings were ruffled and in disarray, sprawled limply from her sides. Her claws did dig into the ground, trying to hoist herself back to at least a sitting position. Her sharp teeth were gritting together from the effort. That effort swiftly went in vain when her shoulder was pinned against the ground again. Feza's head turned and her entire frame locked up when the other bit into her scruff. The vibrant feline's neck fur was the thickest of her entire body. It was practically tripling her small size with the sheer amount of fur that covered her neck. The snow leopard's pupils had thinned to paper slits, trembling and shaking profusely. When she was released she fell back against the ground again. That was one of the ways that she had died in those awful nightmares. A lion biting down on her throat. Less fur then, less protection. Her small body remained rigid, still expecting for her head to have been snapped off in a mere instant.

The other speaking was barely registered. Feza again slowly pulled herself upright, still somewhat lopsided. She was shaking and slightly sputtering, her vibrant eyes tightly shut. The feline sniffled, her wings pumping a few times to raise her back on to her feet. When her eyes finally opened and she was greeted with the look of disappointment she again winced backwards. How awful. She hadn't even lasted a minute. Her ears raised, finally now grasping what was being said to her. The feathered wings that Feza possessed swiftly came close to her sides. The breaths remained shaky, and her paws kneaded at the ground. Dead twice over if he had been a Pittian? Who even were they? Her disoriented mind could not attach the two concepts. She could only bring the words back to her nightmare. How many times had she been slain by a lion in her sleep? Where teeth did not stop at her scruff, where claws tore and ripped out her blood and insides with such ease? Where crystalized green spikes had skewered her, where her wings were ripped from her form and she was left to die in the cold over and over and over again? She hadn’t tried counting.

Feza could not stand the look of disappointment on his face. Had she ruined the thrill of this? The thought crossed her mind even if Wormwood had tried to keep such from coming. Had she ruined the thrill of her dying? Was that why he hadn't sunk his teeth in all the way? She knew it was possible, her nightmares said it was so. They said that she wasn't fun at fighting. Weak and pathetic and was not fit to lead a hundred times over. It wasn't happy. It wasn't joyful. It did not fit what she liked, and a small twitch pushed through her frightened form. What followed was a deep breath and a raised paw to rub away her frightful tears. "Oh just, oh, don't worry about me. I'm not good just...this." Feza finally answered. Her tone was a squeak, and shaky. It showed her attempt to banish her fear, and she was not able to hide all of it. Her words and her sentences were just as bad as they had been during the fight. Her breathing was still hard, shaky, as if trying to shove down a fitful sob. "I'll be alright. Getting used to, to- to this." Feza then forced a smile onto her face. She'd long grown used to figuring out how to fake a smile. She was the one who had to be the happiness in everyone else's sea of despair. If she wasn't doing that, then what was her point of life? There was no reason other than causing parties and smiles for her to exist. That frown on the other's face only reiterated her failure, and her ears pressed against her head. "Are- are- going again or done?" Feza then asked with a small, uncomfortable twitch of her tail.