[M] The end all starts
#8
Her teeth clicked with snaps and snarls, but they did not make contact with him. A sort of thrill ran through Machidael, then, and he laughed harder, flinging the knife from his dominant hand to the weaker. He did not need his dominant hand to take this one. She was no fighter, and though she outweighed him, she could no more defend herself than any of his prey across the ocean. They had been rather like her -- well-fed and large canines, used to the civilized comforts of a settlement. Machidael was a nomad and a hunter, and his sustenance came from what he could steal, rob, and take by force.

With his kick, however, there was a sharp sting of pain. Her fangs scraped into his flesh, slicing into the tender part of his foot, close to his toes. The hybrid jerked his foot back and set it down. He swayed with the momentary loss of balance and pain. The laugh abruptly stopped, and so did all of Machidael's gleeful playfulness. He lashed out with the knife again. He switched hands once more and slashed again. He was always moving -- darting in to make the first slash, darting away, darting in again. Machidael had long learned his size meant he was an easy opponent to overpower, and his strength was in his speed. And his brutality, too. Perhaps he'd eat her heart -- though, one such as this girl could not provide him with much strength.


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