Keep close. Keep close, he said! That was the equivalent of telling a dog to heel. Merihim was no dog, no animal to be commanded as one saw fit. He was a demon of demons, capable of bloodshed and murder and devouring any who dared upset him! Claerth didn't seem to understand that, or at least not in the way Merihim would have preferred.
Bastard. Thinks he can boss me around, make me fight for him. Merihim's thoughts stewed as he kept pace beside his master, his vindictiveness never quite reaching his tongue. He heaved a heavy, loud sigh instead.
Up ahead he knew Selphie was being put to labor, too, forced to scout. He could deal with that; lesser demons needed someone to command them. He, Merihim, was no lesser demon. All he wanted to do was lie under a tree somewhere and take a nap. Maybe mess with a few passing travelers or make a meal out of them. He bet Claerth tasted amazing--would taste amazing once he found the opportunity to sink his fangs into him.
"So . . . why exactly is it we're going to this village again?" he asked, trying not to sound as if mutiny sat on the edge of his mind. He gave Claerth a sidelong glance, the man's short figure annoying him again. To take an piece off of his frustration, he played with the cuffs to his long, white sleeves, adjusting them for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. "You can't take care of a wittle demon all on your own?"
