Word Count: 437
A low and rumbling growl escaped Sicarus's throat, and a snarl displayed across his face. He was steadily losing control of his emotions; the calm, cool exterior of Sicarus de Ericeto was breaking down fast, and he licked his coal-black lips, his pink tongue flickering like a snake's tongue out between his bared teeth. He would savor this; this was for Haku. Pulling on the smaller canine's hair, he drew her head back as far as it would go, sticking his teeth right next to the tawny-furred woman's ear. She wasn't even worthy of hearing his voice, but Sicarus could not help but taunt her. "Poor little thing," he hissed, shaking his head back and forth. "Did you think war would spare you because you are a woman?" the wolf asked, hardly desiring an answer for his question. It was clear enough as his other hand drew toward her shoulder, his dagger-sharp claws raking through the thick and muscled flesh of her back, her blood welling up as he sliced through her flesh. Sicarus did not slash at her flesh quickly; instead he dug his claws in at first and dragged them through her fur and skin slowly, so slowly—he wanted her to feel every aching moment of this.
The coppery scent of her blood frenzied him and he lost his focus, the edges of his vision blurring to a seething, unseening crimson. There was no other scent than that of her very blood, the sustaining life's fluid that was now his to control and use as he wished. Pausing in his scratches to dig his claws in and twist his hand mercilessly, the tawny-furred wolf drew back suddenly, still keeping his other hand firmly dug into her mane, his other hand cocking back to deliver a swift, hard punch to the back of the other canine's head, aiming to knock her out or at least disorient her for a minute. Sicarus wanted to see her face as she died; he wanted to watch the life fade from her eyes, and it would do him no good if he was staring at her back for this entire time. Planting his legs on either side of her, the wolf roughly dragged her around, flipping the smaller canine around to face him. "Ad maiorem Dei gloriam," the wolf muttered, drawing his fiery eyes over the girl's body for what might be the final time, thinking again how disgusting and small and weak it was. She deserved this, for nothing more than that she was a woman; she deserved this more because she was an enemy of his leader.
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