06-16-2009, 07:48 PM
Did you want more? If not, this plot has been a lot of fun. I definitely need to look you up if/when I come back again =D
The rhythm of violence spurred the giant on, snapping down at its pinned opponent time and again, sometimes drawing blood, sometimes closing on only fur, sometimes missing entirely. Blinded by rage and the slowly drying current of blood, it removed all other instructions; right now killing the female was the only thing that mattered. It savaged her, and believed elatedly that she was about to meet her end. After all, it still had the energy to continue on like this for several more minutes, and was so furious that no pain would stop its onslaught. She would be dead before it tired out.
Despite this prediction, its fury petered out suddenly, and the strength drained momentarily from its limbs. For a heartbeat after the pressure on its neck started, the predator did not know if it had been killed or not. Its body locked up in response to its uncertainty. The clamp was strong, but had it taken the throat? The beast squirmed, and wriggled, feeling pain that was no more intense than the other wounds it had received, but was far more terrifying for the uncertainty of its import. Was she tearing its muscle, or its windpipe? It didn't know, but the urgency in its instinctive mind demanded action, demanded that the monster pull away from the female whose intent was to end its life, and as always, it obeyed. It took several moments of pulling and tearing its own flesh to escape her death-grip. When it finally succeeded, it inhaled deeply. As a beast whose instincts played a far more vital role than its skill, the predator did not have the self-control to measure its impulses. It had spent as much energy as it could on its attack, and then again during its escape. It was tired.
It could still breath, but the pain in its neck was significant. Now that the battle had paused, it became aware of its surroundings more fully. Its shoulder hurt worse than before, and its scalp still pulsed agonizingly. Even given its last attack, it was no better off then she, even with its size. She had nearly killed it, even immobilized as she was. The sun was receding, slowly revealing stars just beyond the furthest purple band, but the stormclouds rapidly devoured their light. The wind howled again through the woods. Still breathing heavily, the predator ran. It would not fight Cwmfen again.
The rhythm of violence spurred the giant on, snapping down at its pinned opponent time and again, sometimes drawing blood, sometimes closing on only fur, sometimes missing entirely. Blinded by rage and the slowly drying current of blood, it removed all other instructions; right now killing the female was the only thing that mattered. It savaged her, and believed elatedly that she was about to meet her end. After all, it still had the energy to continue on like this for several more minutes, and was so furious that no pain would stop its onslaught. She would be dead before it tired out.
Despite this prediction, its fury petered out suddenly, and the strength drained momentarily from its limbs. For a heartbeat after the pressure on its neck started, the predator did not know if it had been killed or not. Its body locked up in response to its uncertainty. The clamp was strong, but had it taken the throat? The beast squirmed, and wriggled, feeling pain that was no more intense than the other wounds it had received, but was far more terrifying for the uncertainty of its import. Was she tearing its muscle, or its windpipe? It didn't know, but the urgency in its instinctive mind demanded action, demanded that the monster pull away from the female whose intent was to end its life, and as always, it obeyed. It took several moments of pulling and tearing its own flesh to escape her death-grip. When it finally succeeded, it inhaled deeply. As a beast whose instincts played a far more vital role than its skill, the predator did not have the self-control to measure its impulses. It had spent as much energy as it could on its attack, and then again during its escape. It was tired.
It could still breath, but the pain in its neck was significant. Now that the battle had paused, it became aware of its surroundings more fully. Its shoulder hurt worse than before, and its scalp still pulsed agonizingly. Even given its last attack, it was no better off then she, even with its size. She had nearly killed it, even immobilized as she was. The sun was receding, slowly revealing stars just beyond the furthest purple band, but the stormclouds rapidly devoured their light. The wind howled again through the woods. Still breathing heavily, the predator ran. It would not fight Cwmfen again.