hardly sportsmanlike

[Phoenix]

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That was it, he had nothing more to give. The adrenaline could only take him so far, and he had even exceeded his max with that. Perhaps more—he felt like he had loaned from his physical limitations and with high credit. Slumping visibly, the massive male trudged over to a large boulder and stand down on it, trying in vain to wind own even as he hurt the sickening thud of Skoll’s mental imbedding itself into Glaesring’s flesh. He wiped a finger across the area underneath his collarbone experimentally. Just as he had expected, there was a rather ample amount of blood leaking from a wound somewhere on his shoulder, in an area he couldn’t angle his head to look at directly. And there were dozens of other small cuts and bruises all over his body. Phoenix was not weak… he knew it was necessary. But he feared becoming comfortable with the concept of killing other wolves. If that day ever came, he would be no better than the ones he fought to protect his kin. It seemed somehow wrong to slay a beaten foe aying curledup on the ground helplessly, though he agreed with everything Skoll said as the older warrior came up behind him. No, he didn’t regret defeating Glaesring once more… but he was thankful that he hadn’t had to make the killing blow himself. He had killed another wolf once before, and it was an experience he hoped never to repeat. “I smelled ‘em at Storm’s borders,” the alpha answered, pointing a thumb towards his home unnecessarily. They both knew where it was. Phoenix’s voice was flat, dull… he was drained, and he didn’t even have the auxiliary strength to try to hide the fact. “That was th’ first place they came lookin’ for you, I guess. It took me a while t’ find you…I hadda track you down telepathically, an’ if we hadn’t made a mental connection b’fore, I wouldn’ta been able t’ find you in time.” Yet another unexpected benefit of that mistaken connection. Perhaps it was worth the nightmares Phoenix had gained afterwards, after all.

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