| http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/sam2.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:322px; padding-left:25px; padding-right:25px; padding-bottom:10px;"> In time, he would heal. The wound was far from fatal. It would bleed and bleed for a time, as all injuries were wont to, but it would heal and he’d be none the worse. He was accustomed to pain and bleeding—he reveled in such feeling. The wound wasn’t even given a thought, other than a means to infect the creature with his power. Of course, blood to blood wasn’t the only method. He moved his hand away, slowly changing back into the primal form of the natural coyote. Smaller and smaller he became, limbs taking on new shapes and his long, ragged mane of hair retreating into nothing. He moved around the other creature without a word, suddenly grasping him around the waist with his forelegs as he made to mount him—one forepaw still caked in sticky, crimson blood. Blunt claws grasped at skeletal ribs, unsympathetic as he began to force his way in—knowing there would be sharp pain with the swiftness of his action. Even so, adrenaline and eagerness flooded his veins, grasping at the coyote’s mane with his teeth, forcing them into the skin. A snarl rose in his throat, muffled and mutilated. |
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