03-14-2010, 03:02 AM
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(354.)
Perhaps he should have been frightened. Well, that was a moot sentiment, because he was frightened. Terrified, even. But there was no way in his mind that they could lose. They were the good guys, and no one ever killed the kid, right? The thrill of it all made his heart beat fast, and he could hear Mama's heart beating fast too. He could feel it, against his back, pounding in her chest. Was it fear or excitement? Or both? He couldn't tell. Mama spoke to the coyote-woman, using her words like teeth and claws. He was afraid it wouldn't work, but he didn't say anything. He merely bared his tiny teeth and growled. Mama took a few steps back—there was more space between them now. And then she howled for help. It was then that King knew that something bad was going to happen. Until the call had gone out, there was a chance that the coyote would run away like the filthy thing it was.
Now, that wasn't going to happen.
He heard little more than his own reedy growling now, though he saw everything. They appeared like wraiths from the woods, more in number than he would have dreamed. They were terrifying—one he could smell before he saw him, the vile smell of death upon him and a manic smile imprinted on his disfigured face. Another female with gleaming blades, then another female and male. He could smell a few on their side as well, but not as many. And Mama couldn't fight—Mama would have to put him down and then they would jump on him and kill him. He strengthened his growl, thinking it would strengthen his nerve. It didn't. They were all looking with their demons' eyes, looking at him and Mama. They would kill mother and child, just because. He hated them. It was a hatred that rose with his tiny growls. Filthy, subcanine creatures! He wanted nothing more than Papa to storm in and fall on them like a beast from hell, ripping them apart one by one.
Moments ticked by. He didn't come.