(OOC: Yeehee thisa be fun)

        
Vark struggled to keep his fuming rage quiet. He also gagged silently on the stench. He briefly wondered if the coyotes deliberately rolled in their own waste. Vark’s ears were so flat against his skull, they were starting to ache. His lips were drawn taut back across his gums in a silent snarl of rage and bloodlust. More Dahlians appeared out of the foliage, at the dame rate coyotes appeared. Vark could tell by the extra scents adding to the turmoil to the smells in the air. As Vark inched closer, He realised that most of the combatants there, if not all of them, were unaware of his presence. As he watched, the first coyote, an old female, by the smell, advanced confidently towards the mother and child. Even through his severely impaired vision, he could see the coyote’s confident smirk. Fear and bloodlust was incredibly strong in the air, and Vark closed his eyes, trying to focus. Some of the fear was his, and he wouldn’t let it give him away yet. When he opened his eyes, the battle and started.
        
Vark licked his nose nervously. He hadn’t ever been in such a violent or serious fight, but something deep inside him grew. It revelled in the fear, in the rage, and in the need for spilt blood. Images of his parents suddenly whipped through his head. His father’s bloodied face. His mothers howl of rage and pain. The fire. Suddenly, Vark felt angry. Sure, he had been angry before, but now it was like he had found a whole new level of anger. Of Fury. Vark heard a huge and deep bellowing roar of rage, and realised it was his own. Vark cannoned out of the shrub like a lightning bolt, throwing his now considerably more muscular frame straight for the old coyote’s throat.



        

        

The older coyotes reflexes were what saved her. She twisted and ducked beneath Vark’s all out leap for the throat. Vark’s shoulder grazed the woman’s head on the way past, and he landed in an awkward roll on the far side, behind his opponent. Vark quickly regained his feet, wiped his head around to face the coyote, pulling his lips back over his teeth. But it was there his poor eyesight betrayed him. He missed the blur of the other foe, and wasn’t aware of his presence until something slammed into his hind legs with such force he was thrown off his feet. Kicking savagely, he felt them connect with force and throw his foe from him. Vark’s legs pained him, and there was a little blood seeping through the fur. He also became aware of blood running in a sheet over the left side of his face and filling his blind left eye like tears. The coyotes fangs must have connected when they passed. Vark wondered at how he wasn’t scared. He was only angry. And the smell of blood seemed to be giving him strength. The lust for violence and vengeance would be satisfied today, he promised himself. Vark struggled to regain his feet before his was set upon by the older woman.

        


        

        
Vark lashed out with his hind legs, sending the smaller pesky coyote tumbling away, and he regained his feet quickly, and twisted his head around, trying to find the older coyote. After a moment, a small gust of wind notified him of her position, and he made out the blur of her outline. Vark paced forward, his hackled raised, and his lips drwe back in a blood curdling snarl. Adrenaline coursed through his vain, and his claw dug deep gouges where he stood, and his frame quivered with rage and blood lust. But he hung back, looking for an opening. The movements of his opponent were hard to decipher, and she was obviously a very experienced fighter. A more calm Vark would have realised he was in over his head, but Vark's head was full of images of violence and blood. Vark's eyes were not helping. Detail to movement was missed, and Vark was still getting used to his blindness. In frustation, he barked and dove forwards, his powerful jaws snapping forward for the coyotes legs, his large pawful of claws scything up at her hindquarter, along her left side.

        

So sorry for the late post. Been snowed under. But here it is

        
Vark felt a brief flash of fierce triumph as his claws caught and drew red lines across the coyotes hindquaters, and her blood scent alighted upon his nose. But she was fast and quick to retaliate and Vark yelp in pain and surprise as she wheeled around, her fangs scoring lightly through his protective mane, and he felt a trickle of blood as he sprang backwards out of her reach. Vark circled for a bit, desperately willing his eyes to suddenly be able to see again, but to no avail. His opponent was just a murky and barely detectable blur, whose intentions and movements were undecipherable. Vark leapt forward without warning, aiming several quick swipes at her face to distract the coyote while rising up on his hind legs to snap at her head and neck, and aimed to bring his full weight and strength down on a single ferocious bite. Vark’s voice rose in a snarl of pure rage and bloodlust, as his poured on the strength and speed in his attack, desperate to either blind, maim or even kill his opponent.

        



        

        
He was actually gaining ground. He struck savagely, pouring on the power, and he could feel his opponent staggering back under the flurry of blows. Vark felt triumph start to blossom in his chest as he force the coyote back, until the smaller one made a spectacular re-entry. A small and furious form sailed through the air, slamming into Varks chest and neck, throwing him off balance. The two of the them stumbled backwards and collapsed in a heap of failing limbs and snapping limbs. Vark roared with rage. He had been so close to overpowering the older coyote, and defeating the upstart woman soundly. Her blood on his hands would have please Haku for sure, and he would have had his revenge. Now, so close to his victory, his vengeance, he had been deprived, form that that he strived for most in his life, his revenge. His head filled with a red mist. And all of a sudden, time slowed, and he could see him self, as if he were standing a short distance away. In a sort of dream like state, he watched him writhe on the spot, and turn towards his foe. Claws tore through the smaller coyotes belly. Jaws clamped down on the neck, and crunched down, spraying blood all over Vark. Claws continued to rend, tearing pieces of the coyote into the air in the frenzy. With a sharp convulsion of Vark’s head, the smaller form’s neck made an audible crunch, and all struggling stopped. The red mist cleared. Time returned.

        
Vark gasped and recoiled away from the mutilated form of the coyote. Gore dripped from Varks muzzle and claws. The rage and bloodlust evaporated. Shock washed over Vark’s body, and he started to tremble. But something in the far reaches of his head protested. He had gotten his revenge. Why wasn’t he triumphant? Why hadn’t the weight lifted from his shoulders? Why didn’t he feel better? The taste of the coyote’s life blood in his mouth turned sour. Vark spluttered and spat, the older coyote completely forgotten. Numbness washed over Vark, joining with the shock, seemingly paralysing him. He had killed another canine.

        



        

Cool. That was pretty awesome. It would be great if we could do it again. XD

        
Gore dripped off Varks muzzle. Thoughts and feelings ricocheted around the inside of his head. Vark staggered back from the mutilated corpse. But the queasiness had diminished. The shock subsided. A chill settled on Varks insides as he inspected his handiwork. The mist lifted from his eyes. He was the dealer of death, and it left him feeling cold and empty. Hunting was one thing, what you killed gave you food. Killing another out of rage and bloodlust was something different. But instead of a savage triumph, there was nothing but coldness. Before Vark could contemplate the matter any further, He felt a movement, just before the other coyote struck him across the head with her large paw, sending him reeling, senseless.

        
Vark struggled back to his feet in time to see that the coyotes were retreating. The battle was won, the mother and her boy safe. The brief and vicious violence ended as quickly as it had started. Vark limped over to a tree, and painfully lay down in the shadows. Blood seeped from various wounds, but he would live to see another day.