The woman had left Dahlia de Mai once more. She left behind the conflict that had arisen between herself and Svara and between Svara and Haku and between Haku and herself. She left behind the loner at the boarders that sought to join the Dahlian ranks. And she walked now, along the extended boarders of her pack and to Halifax. The warrior’s mind was able to push the political ideas from her mind. Right now, in that moment, for this time in her life, she sought only to find the two enemies that now eluded her. She had made a promise to her pack. Most generally, she had sworn to protect Dahlia de Mai as its warrior. But most specifically, she had promised to protect the pups from the threat of Brennt and to protect her packmembers from the threat of Corvus. And Corvus had grown increasingly aggressive in his sadistic games. She had the burden of Ril’o’s death upon her shoulders, of the wounding of Slay and Tokyo, and Ezekiel and Onus as well. These attacks—she would stop them. That was her purpose now. The white orbs of the black she-wolf turned toward the heavens. The time was drawing near. She could feel it.

The pied Raven crawed thrice in the clouded heavens above, and the heavens answered with a distant, brooding thunder. The black ears pressed forward as she moved with that fluid grace through the forests near the city. She lingered here often because Brennt frequented here the most, and because Corvus had once been nearby. The woad bound maw lowered to the earth, sifting with that sensitive olfactory organ through the scents in the dampening air that grew cold with the threat of rain. The ambiguous time surrounded her, the sun neither bright nor dim, the shadows neither present nor absent. A mild hunger moved through her—she had not eaten as often as she should have, so indulged was she within her search. It was dangerous to allow such a thing to happen—she needed the strength in case she would happen upon them. For a moment, the warrior allowed herself to set aside her search and to search instead for a meal. And it was not long before she found a scent—it was fresh and warm with blood.

The warrior paused, her black, woad dipped tail lifting slightly as the white orbs scanned the area. She wondered who it was that had hunted here. And then she was moving again, the wind blowing the scent of the warrior and the scent of the one she now moved towards to the side. Her step was silent, slow and cautious as if she hunted. With her head lowered, she pushed through the trees and moved into the outskirts of the city in silence—and there! She had found him. The kill belonged to him and he devoured it still. While it was only a rabbit, the woman did not hesitate. He had attacked enough pups, and he had killed the pup from Phoenix Valley. That had been enough. Stepping forward, the warrior growled, those white eyes flickering with a quiet, but wild flame. The blue and black hackles rose along her nape and spine as her ears pressed forward. And that would be warning enough. This time, Cwmfen did not wait. She had waited and had given him enough warnings. The black, woad marked warrior lunged at him. With her strength renewed and her training carrying her far, the woman took a more direct approach to the attack. But she did not forget his superior size or strength.

This time, the brute did not flee the challenge that had been openly and willingly made. Preordained. The woad warrior followed the triple goddess of the Morrigan, and it was Nemain, not Macha, that spurred her on now. Frenzy. The warrior snarled. It was as if both new that this would be it—or perhaps only she had recognized such a thing, lead on by the intuition of her Dream. And indeed, the pied Raven called thrice more before he disappeared into that empty city, leaving behind his Dreamer. This predator—he was simply that wolf of ancient times, a wolf that the warrior could have been but was not any longer. She was close to the ways that were followed by this yellow-eyed predator, but since the Long Nights, she had parted from that path. Their different paths clashed once more, and they clashed for the last time.

She had leapt, her hungering jaws parting as those bone white teeth sought to tear through his flesh. With a growl she embedded her teeth into his should as she flew past, landing lightly upon the ground behind him. Immediately her body had turned, as if she were performing some ancient dance of a foreign culture. As Brennt sought to rise, the woman leapt again, her jaws seeking to make weary the body of the larger male. And she caught him at his shoulder once, her head jerking as she snarled, tearing his flesh several times before she backed off once more. Just as before, she must be tactful of how she attacked the larger and stronger male. But this time, she was tactful also of where her jaws sought purchase. And yet, even as she leapt back, the brute had leapt forward, his head low and his throat protected as he made his rush. He was quick and she could not escape him.

As before, she fell beneath him, but her body twisted about, allowing at least several of her limbs to land firmly upon the earth. Her head was twisted back as her features were distorted by a snarl, her lips pulled back to allow her teeth to see. His claws and jaws found the old wounds that they had caused and reopened them as if in reunion. The pain registered more keenly for the nature of these reopened wounds, but the warrior’s mind was able to discard it. Her own teeth sough his muzzle even as she twisted her body from his grip. And she escaped, her fur wet and the woad darkened by her lifeblood. The white eyes never left the male as she turned her body about to face him.

Again the grey brute attacked and again the warrior responded. With her head lowered, her body slid forward as the lightning that now emitted thunder. Her jaws parted once more in a snarl that was not drowned out by the crack of thunder that shuddered through the air. As she came upon the other shoulder, the woman moved again to take the flesh there, twisting her body as her claws raked along his side, breaking through his skin and clawing at his muscles. She snarled as she shook her head, once more seeking to disable this predator so that she may bleed him to death if she could not obtain an open throat.

Her fangs found purchase within his flesh, and she tore at it. But the male was quick as well, twisting and turning his body so as to return the attack. She both released her jaws and had him ripped from her jaws as she sought to avoid him and as he sought to come down upon her. His weight came down heavily upon her back, and she fell easily beneath it. The warrior did not try to resist his body. To do so would simply cause her joints to suffer greatly, and the black female required the use of her legs and every part of her body if she sought to defeat him. But that sacrifice had a price. His jaws closed down upon her nape, causing her to snarl savagely in pain. Her body twisted beneath his paws, her jaws snapping the air as she sought to release herself from that hold by ripping into his own neck. Her twisting body, however, seemed sufficient enough with his footing, and she was released. For a moment, she remained low to the ground, crouched down as if in a hunt as she snarled at him.

The breathing of the Dahlian wolf was loud and harsh, though not necessarily from the labor her body was receiving. It was that hollow sound that resembled a snarl, that radiated with aggression. Her white gaze met those yellow eyes, so flat and full of the intelligence that had evaded Brennt. And it was strange. As the dark storm, brought by Morrigan’s wings, leaned in against her, urging her forward, the fiery heavens of dusky raged at his back. But the fury of Nemain was reflected in those white eyes as the darkness of Morrigan was reflected in his. As the two contenders stood still in challenge in that brief moment, the gods were unwilling to name a victor and pushed each toward each other in an endless struggle. Both would be allowed to live through the battle or both would be made to die. You have not heeded the warnings that were given. Now you have brought only destruction upon yourself. The ferocity of that male’s gaze blazed like the sun at his back. Her hackles, damp with blood, no longer stood on end. But the woad warrior bristled with that wild intensity nonetheless.

The grey brute lunged and the warrior moved immediately. She snarled, accepting that challenge. The predator had learned much, and the warrior had trained harder to allow herself success. She tried to allow herself time and room to maneuver out of reach once her attacks were made, but escape was never a guarantee, and she knew that. She knew that she would have to rely upon her strength, however lacking it would have been against his brute force. Her tail whipped out to the side, allowing her balance as created a sharp arc with her body in the air. The muscles of that bitten place was not yet hindered, her blood running hot in her veins and loosening the tension of her body. As the predator lunged, the woman ducked low, moving her body to the side and out of reach of his jaws as she sought to come up, to take his neck, to allow her hungry jaws to be satiated and take the life of this male with yellow eyes.

He pushed against her, grabbing her collar in his jaws. And the warrior had placed herself in a bad place. Her pure strength was not match for his, and he invariably forced her back. She could not maneuver out of his hold, for his jaws held her tightly. Her own jaws responded similarly as she sought to force him to relinquish his grip upon her, but he did not. And he pushed her back continually against that tree, trapping her there between him and a barrier. Often he tried to force her upon her hind legs, but she resisted his efforts, pulling herself over to retain the stability of having all four legs upon the earth. But as he had pushed her against that tree, it ws difficult for her to resist, and the yellow-eyed predator succeeded in his attempts. He struggled now to release her hold upon him, and sensing that he was a greater threat to her now than he was before, the woman resisted. But in the end, she could not hold it, and she was forced to release.

A sound between a snarl and a whine ripped through her. She hadn’t been quick enough to escape those jaws that sought her leg, and it came down upon the fur and flesh and muscle and bone. The white eyes narrowed against that indescribably pain, her body shuddering against it. She could feel his teeth grinding against her bones, and she could do nothing. If he broke the bone, she could not stop him. He would win, and she would be dead. She fell to the ground heavily as he pulled her off balance. The black female’s main concern now was to keep her leg from being completely destroyed. She recognized now that the leg would be of little use to her, but it would be a greater hindrance should he succeed in breaking the bone. Cwmfen new that she had to prevent that, for if she did not, she would fail.

The white eyes were wild, the control struggling to be maintained through the shots of pain that sought to destroy it. She curled her body up, using his grip upon her to her advantage. The black female snarled more savagely, more fiercely, as she fought to free herself from those jaws that had closed about her like a trap. She sought his face, but his muzzle and eyes were just out of his reach. The warrior settled for any part of his head, however, and her jaws snapped down upon his flesh, able to obtain a good amount as her teeth scraped along his skull. She bit down once, then twice to obtain a secure grip, and she ripped into him, tasting his fur and his blood in her mouth. And the strength of her jaws was increased as she even sought to expel the pain that incessantly shot through her leg, the pressure he put upon it increasingly unbearable even to one who had trained to tolerate it.

Her jaws had succeeded in cutting through his fur and skin. The yellow-eyed predator released her leg, and she felt both an alleviation of pain and the __ of pain. Heat wrapped about her thigh, brought on by the blood and by her body’s angry reaction the wound itself. Her rump was allowed to fall upon the earth, and the she-wolf immediately turned her body about, careful to keep her leg lifted from the ground and off the weight of her body that would cause her to buckle or to be momentarily unable to respond. The white orbs shone fiercely as she found that gaze, watching as the emotions seemed to shift and change in those yellow eyes. And from that distance, the wound upon his head looked worse than it was, as all head wound were. The blood flowed freely as she knew the blood upon her leg must, falling generously upon the earth that even now sought to be quenched. The earth was thirsty. It drank their blood.

Thunder growled menacingly above the two challengers, the lightning having already flashed its anger. Just as she knew how vulnerable he had made her, the male knew that he had gained the upper hand. Never the less, the woad warrior snarled—she would not back down and could not. She would kill him or fall. It was the way of a warrior. She only had a moment to steady herself before the brute charged her, his full brute force crashing into her smaller form. Inevitably, the black female fell beneath him. Pain shot through her leg and neck. She snarled. Lying there beneath him, she recognized that primal posturing of dominance and submission, and deep within her the instinct resisted. The wolf did not wish to be inferior. The brute’s jaws, however, urged otherwise as he pinned her there, snapping at her neck and face. For a brief moment, as the warrior gathered herself, she struggled only to avoid the worse of those attacks.

There—she saw an opening and took it immediately before it could slip from her grasp. With a measure of strength, the female pushed herself up against his weight, her jaws opening with timed precision and clamping down upon his neck. Cwmfen snarled as she tasted the fresh blood, the frenzy of Nemain renewed within her. She tore at it, knowing that if she did not escape from him soon, she would be dead. And she knew that she could not die yet—there was still much for her to do. With his flesh in her jaws, the warrior clamped down, the pressure of her jaws upon him increasing. Her woad bound paws pushed up against the predator’s chest, attempting to break up the primal frenzy that over took him now. If only she could adjust her grip upon that neck, she could kill him and end the battle there. But his movements did not allow her to do so, and she was left to simply tear his flesh open.