( based off of the prompt I was given ;^3 )

Wormwood still wasn't sure if he was really okay with the new mutation that occupied the space between his shoulder blades. The huge rusty and golden wings were so new and unfamiliar to someone like him that he probably wouldn't have even remembered that they existed if it weren't for the pounds of feathers that seemed to make him sink further into the swampy land with every step. He couldn't have imagined really trying to fly with them, that was until he had thought about Feza. He didn't particularly like thinking about Feza, considering her hopelessly positive attitude that grated on his nerves at all times, but she was, after all, another large cat with wings proportional to her body, and it seemed like she could use them. He had only ever really seen her gliding on them, but somewhere in the back of his mind he assumed that she flew around with them too, and if she could fly, he could, right...? Sure, he was considerably larger than her, but his wings were also considerably larger than hers, so they should hopefully let him achieve some sort of lift off...

Of course, he didn't want to try flying for the first time in town. For one thing, there were plenty of things and places that he could crash into, not to mention the numerous other group members around that he didn't really want to embarrass himself in front of. He wasn't a bird, and he had no earthly idea how to even begin with all of this flying stuff, but it wasn't like he was gonna ask Bink, and he certainly wasn't gonna ask Feza. She probably wouldn't be of much help, and would go off on some rant about parties or kazoos or some other stupid thing that would make Worm want to shove her into the dirt instead of focusing on her taking off. As a result of all of this, the lion had decided that the best place to practice was outside of town, and a bit past the more thickly occupied areas of the swamp. He had eventually gotten to the forest like last payer of protection that the group had from the outside world, and he searched around before eventually finding a large field, perfect for what he would be doing that day.

He had climbed up carefully onto a large log near the edge of the field that met the woods and the swamp, and he sat up, gradually stretching his wings out around him. The wings reached out wide and pointed out from his sides gracefully, which felt completely ridiculous to him, since the wings still felt so foreign to him. He knew that some creatures would probably kill for a mutation such as this, being able to fly in the air, but honestly he sort of resented the new appendages that had grown from him several days ago. He had never wanted some intrinsicate advantage over any opponent that he took on. That was why he had never envied the mutations that others had, or the elemental powers that some, such as Vathmos, showed off so readily in battle. He wanted to be able to use his own skills to win a battle, not swooping in on somebody and surprise attacking them.

Still, he supposed that flying could be useful in either ways besides battle. Delivering messages to other groups, flying into battle in order to be on the front lines and defend others, and reaching high up areas in cases of needing to get something down. So, mutations weren't exactly a curse on him, he just... still didn't feel right about the wings. He sighed deeply as he pulled one of his wings in front of him, raising a paw to run it slowly over some of the red and gold feathers. His wing twitched and sent a slow shiver down his spine, and he pinned his ears against his head at the involuntary reaction that was only recently developed. That did represent a disadvantage rather than a new advantage. Anybody could grab him by the new huge wings, and could even cause an easy tense of his muscles just by touching them lightly.

Shaking his head a bit to try and calm his rapidly degrading thoughts, Worm decided to focus on the task at hand. Slowly standing up on his back legs, Worm flung himself forward and off of the log, wings out – only to fall gracelessly into the dirt. He let out a soft grunt of embarrassment, despite the fact that nobody was around to see him. The lion slowly pushed himself up to his paws, shaking out his dirty fur and glaring at his thus far useless as hell wings. He clambered back up onto the log, and it took several more attempts before he finally managed to pull off the most meager of glides down to the grassy dirt below. It was at this point that he was beginning to feel pretty sore from face planting so much, and he almost just wanted to give up already, but he gritted his teeth and shook his head firmly at himself. He was going to get this down before he got back to camp, just so these new wings didn't feel like such burdens to him. At least now they weren't quite as bloody and painful as when he had first grown them, even after all of these attempts to fly.

He climbed on the log about five or six more times, gliding on a few of them, before he began to hear the noise. He paused after his sixth attempt, his ears perked curiously as he heard soft footsteps and snorts coming from within the swamp behind him. He turned toward the noise, his eyes narrowing as he grumbled in annoyance, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"Is somebody there? I swear, if you were hiding just to watch me make a fool of myself, I'm gon-"[/glow] He was cut off – quite violently – when the creature came charging out from the underbrush, it's head held down and his hooves beating against the dirt as he raced at Worm's side. Worm let out a shout of pain as the boat landed a hit, one of it's horns dragging across his vulnerable furry side and ripping his skin apart. He growled angrily as he felt blood dripping down from the new long gash,  and whirled around to face the creature and get a closer look at it.

When he did see it, he immediately regretted looking. The boar was clearly mutated, with oddly discolored boils on his skin, seemingly an extra eye under one of his, and an extra set of horns that made the amount of damage done to his side make more sense. The lion snarled in rage before spitting at the boar, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"You fucking feral dick! That hurt![/glow] He spat furiously at the baor and glanced back at his bleeding side before charging forward, slamming his paws into the mutated boar's horns and trying to dig his teeth into the creature's face. The boar let out a howl of pain as teeth sank into him, and he forcibly tossed Wormwood aside with all of the strength in his small mutated body. The lion wheezed as he bounced off of the ground, slowly pushing himself up again. He considered calling for help, but decided against it. He didn't need help with just some filthy wild boar, even if it was mutated.

The creature came charging again, and this time Wormwood leaped up into the air, his wings spreading and finally, finally catching on the air. He took off up into the sky, and a sudden feeling of exhilaration filled him. He felt the wind beating against his face and through his mane, and he saw the ground slowly vanish from beneath his paws. It took a long moment before he was slammed back into reality by a furious echoing snort that reached his ears. He looked down, his wings slowly beating up and down as he stayed hovering in the air, before a slow grin spread over his muzzle. He divebombed down at the mutated male, slamming his claws into the creature from above and digging his teeth into his spine. The creature screeched in pain as he collapsed, and Worm quickly whipped around, digging his fangs into the mutant's throat and only letting up once the creature stopped moving.

Once he wasn't be attacked, Worm slowly backed up from the boar before beginning to laugh. He laughed hysterically for several seconds before he collapsed to the ground, the adrenaline finally running out and the pain kicking in to the wound on his side. He breathed heavily for a while before he finally began to laugh again, covered in blood and glad that he was still, blessedly, alive, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"Holy shit, I flew! I actually fucking flew, and I didn't die..."[/glow] He rested his chin against the ground and closed his eyes, feeling lightheaded and incredibly tired. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his head was telling him to get up and call for help, or try and find one of the medics, but the far more prominent thought in his mind was just a plea for sleep, wanting to just close his eyes and drift off despite the gruesome scene and the blood splattering the ground beside him.