No, that wasn't quite right.
Flying implied they had some control of their movements, which they definitely didn't. The earlier howls that had terrified her became whimpers. She watched, in increasing awe, as the horde of them were flung through the air as though they were nothing more than a flurry of snowflakes, swirling around each other in a beautiful dance.
There could only be one person responsible for such a feat. Daphne looked down, and true enough, Atticus had both his arms outstretched, a maniacal grin on his face. He twitched his fingers, and the thornhounds collided with each other.
The sharp thorns that had protected them and hurt so many of Atticus's men were turned on each other, and everyone watched in silence as the thornhounds literally ripped each other to shreds without mercy.
