M - the way our insides burned
#8
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     In his heart, Gabriel knew this would be an end-all. Either he or the beast would fall. They were bound by this fate, bound by terrible things that Gabriel could not admit. This wolf was not simply a monster—he was the Shadow, the Other, the part of the Aquila he was unable to face. For it was Gabriel too who was wicked, and Gabriel too who had slaughtered innocents simply because of whim. Not his, of course, but the whim of a much greater and much more terrible force then his own. When the Lord called, Gabriel answered with the sword and with fire.

     There was contact through the spearhead and Gabriel felt electricity rocket up through his arms. It was not as deep as he would have hoped. Almost instantly he drew back, moved in the waltz that all wars danced, and in two seconds ready himself. Like before the bastard charged at him, and Gabriel moved; but he was unused to the form and felt that wounded shoulder clip him. The coy-wolf staggered. His legs did not give out under him, but his balance was lost.


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