Slave To The Archangel
Masks cover their faces, and they are yelling and stringing bows to shoot at him.
As I glimpse down, it becomes impossible to hold back my laughter. Hundreds of cat people come out through the bushes, yelling weird things and throwing their spears at Azrael's feet.
The cat people are wearing leaves for skirts, and the females got coconut shells covering their breasts. Tattoos mark their arms, and their tails are swooshing through the air.
"They are kinda cute," I admit. "Can we keep one?"
The angel steps around, sighing loudly when the cat warriors scramble to get away from him. They yell something in a foreign language, and more feathered arrows pierce his skin.
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