The last attack had resulted in Salvia’s wounding. TaeKyung herself had been wounded, and yet the wounds had been minor. She was more than adept at managing the ‘ring’, knowing when to attack and when to dodge. And yet, while knowing such things, while having that innate knowledge, she was, at times, troubled by her lack of kills in the battles. It frustrated the Jindo-wolf, for she lived only for the game of survival, for the thrill of the fight. How must she improve in order to kill them swiftly before they could escape? As much as fighting was a physical feat, it was a mental feat as well. The cold, calculating killer needed further training, to increase speed and accuracy and power. And so she had trained harder since the last attack of that fourth moon of the year. But there was only so much training that could be done without overworking her body. The active woman required true battle as well. While the attacks upon Salsola obviously distressed the ranked members and the slaves alike, all at once the Slave of the Flame welcomed them as an opportunity to grow. The shattered mind could only understand her own need and desire for the fight. The obsidian-furred fae wished only to grow as a fighter—a killer—using Taekwondo and her body as her only weapons.
As usual, TaeKyung traveled wearing her natural form as she patrolled. But she did not linger to near the boarders. Too often had the enemies penetrated deeper. The tenebrous fae paused, lifting her dark crania. Abruptly, the black auricles swiveled to catch the sudden disturbance upon the airs. The bayed call broke upon the air—the Korean did not recognize the voice, but she recognized the message. Immediately, the black hybrid was pushed into motion by the sinewy body. Excitement grew within her, fueled by her quickening heartbeat. It was a black excitement, and with it came the thirst for blood, for the sensation of her jaws tearing into flesh. For her legs to break and shatter bones, and her fists to cave in skulls. But the distance was not great enough for the complete change. As she ran, shifting as she went, it was only the secui shape that had time to emerge. The large shape may have been cumbersome for some, but the Slave of the Flame had practiced her martial ways in the half-shape as well. It would be enough. It would have to be enough.
Siv Helsi, the teacher of slaves, emerged before her, bearing a weapon and riding a prey-beast. There was another—the caller, perhaps. But the lunar orbs, fathomless and filled with a sanguine frenzy sought the enemy. There were a gradient of wolves, but the narrow, Korean eyes fell lastly upon the darkest of the three. This time, the black slave did not roar her challenge and posture, but charged directly in. Her agility was great for her size, and she changed direction at the last moment, coming up from the rear of the horse. Black claws tore into the pre-beast’s flesh, and large, hungering jaws snapped, seeking purchase through the enemy wolf’s limbs.
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