blood on my mind

Larkspur D'Angelo · 01-31-2011, 08:07 PM

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Struggle, toss, then shudder and silence. Larkspur released the doe almost instantly, tasting sour fur on his tongue mingled with a much sweeter blood. He licked his muzzle and remained a shadow figure on the landscape, oblivious to the other group and their struggle. All that mattered was now ensuring his own gain from the matter, though the gain was not one he would hold long. Snow now dirtied by torn up earth and blood brushed against his paws as he moved to the soft underbelly, ripping and tearing away the coarse fur as the doe gave her final death rattles and the smell of rank bile filled the air.

Ignoring it, the wolf sought the meaty parts of her insides. The liver, the kidneys—the things that were sweetbreads and carried all the nutrients three hungry mouths would need. He ripped these parts up in chunks, swallowed them with hardly a pause to shred the prize, focusing on his task as mindlessly as he had with the hunt. The whole ordeal was not an entirely joyless one, though, and a part of him was glad to know that this pack did not carry weakness as Conor did. It reassured him, and the part of him that still feared what weak-hearted men would do.

Belly full, the orange eyed wolf stepped back and rubbed his face in the snow. It did only so much to clear the blood from his white pelt. “I’ll move what’s left later,” he said to Teddy. “Should be enough t’feed us an’ the pups for a few days.” His children and the others, who while older, still needed their parents to take care of them. In this case, the parent and the pack—Naniko and her sister had brought their children here without fathers. Larkspur snorted bullishly as he considered her other son, wondering if Harlowe had fallen back into his lazy, useless habits.

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