I don't know how Dawali's conversation with Cwmfen will go, so that's something you guys can discuss if you think it's important. For here, though, maybe the sun can have fallen the final distance and it can be dark, cold, and raining by the time Dawali arrives?
The predator had fled from its battle with the black she-wolf. It had no pride, and when the fear of death had finally emerged from the blood spattered chaos of battle, it had no reason to remain. There was a fundamental difference between a warrior and a beast, each possessed limitations that the other did not. Deliberately seeking a foe's death over one's own life was beyond a beast's abilities, self-preservation was ever present in the animal's mind, and regardless of its fury, a mere reminder of that instinct was all it had taken to break its spirit. In all likelihood, it would have killed the warrior alongside itself after these months of experience, but that was not a sacrifice the monster could fathom. Such a symbolic act was beyond its comprehension.
So the monster had run, bleeding from its head and shoulder and neck, and over a dozen other openings in its flesh, away from the white-eyed warrior and the black storm roiling above the forest at her back, and into the fiery horizon, toward the city that was its safe haven. She had not pursued it, could not, because of her leg. Nonetheless, where she was, others may well be, and it had scented others than her stalking the Halifax territory in search of it. It would return to its safe place, and hide there until morning, when it would be healed. If it saw the black she-wolf again, it would run from her. It had lost its will to fight her; after feeling the approaching promise of death twice now, it was finished entertaining those ideas. It would be worth losing meals to avoid her. She could not counter it everywhere...its conception of the future was very rough, but it understood that its own was brighter if it was spent away from her than in confrontation with her. Its primal fear overrode its calculations based on size...regardless of whatever confidence it had possessed at the outset, she was not worth the harm or the trouble.
The predator entered the house on the corner, the one with the secret room in the basement, and was dismayed. Part of the ceiling had collapsed...probably because of how recklessly it had run in earlier. The door to the sublevel was barred by debris, including a long plank which--after a fair effort--it discovered was jammed too tightly against the floorboards for it to push aside. Looking out the dirty window, it could see the last crimson sliver of the sun, igniting the landscape in the evening's final flame. That light was dimming, and the low rumble of thunder could be heard overhead. The storm was overtaking the dusk. The ancient windowpanes began tapping sharply with the impact of rain. It was calm now, but soon it would break out in full. The beast limped to the far corner of the room, just below the window, and lay itself down to rest. It would need to sleep here; the storm would only get worse.
[html] http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;">Sorry, I had to re-read you guys' threads and you wrote so much! 
Word Count: 495
His heart beat violently in his chest as he ran, sprinted on his four legs. Unused to being in this form, it was still as natural for him as any, but it required a different kind of regarding one's obstacles and path. Still, he needed this form, both for the speed and the action he had in mind. As the sky darkened and the colors of the world disappeared into greys and blacks of different shades and hues, he ran deeper into the city, paws pummeling old crumbling asphalt. The sight of Cwmfen ran through his mind, the sight of Noir and her wounds, of Oceane and her wounds, and what other dreadful sights whose cause he was chasing. He would finish the job. Fear still raged in him, not decreased after seeing what the thing had done to a warrior such as Cwmfen. The trail of scent which the predator had left, however, told of the severity of the wounds he had received by the mouth of that warrior, and it reassured Dawali. He was, after all, at full health - and his enemy was not.
The scenery changed around him as he moved further and further into the city, his pace as swift as it had been from the start. He was driven by anger, by fear - and most of all revenge. Brennt would pay, but for all his fierce emotions the red wolf male could not ignore the fact that he was terrified of both the predator and himself. The prospect of murder - of ending someone's life - frightened him to unspeakable ends. But today his hands or legs did not shake, at least not yet, and there was an unusual fire in his eyes. It grew as the scent in his nose did, and he knew he was closing in on him. Rain beat him down and his furs were soon soggy, and Gvihita called out fiercely before soaring higher, up above the storm clouds to save herself from the heavy rain drops. Suddenly the four-legged male came to a halt, knowing that here, somewhere in one of these houses, was Brennt. The rain spread the scent particles in every direction, and the smell of blood was overwhelming. The red wolf would have no idea where to look for the other, and so he stood there - in the middle of the street, bewildered for a moment as to what to do. He spun around himself a few times, as if he could be able to see the contents of the houses by looking at their outsides, although finally he called out, a simple howl, no words. It penetrated the soundscape of the rain's clatter on windows and roofs and asphalt. An eagle's cry reverberated from the skies, high above the clouds of the storm, covering the sky like a blanket. If he did not come Dawali would be forced to move inside, which he feared most of all.
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Maybe another reply from you, setting up the mood, and then on my next one, Brennt will attack? At that point, I'll be sure to PM you about damage and such (this may happen tomorrow since you're a few hours ahead of me). As for the other thread, hey, it was their last battle, we both wanted it to be impressive =P
The sky had finally darkened, and nothing brighter than the drearest gray luminance could be seen through the old windows. The rain picked up, and lightning flashed. The predator lay curled into itself beneath the window, content to weather the storm within its warm, windless shelter. That was when its keen hearing picked up the sound--through the pouring rain and roaring wind, the slight sound of a howl. Thunder crashed, but the beast never doubted its senses...the idea of imagining something never crossed its mind. One of the hunters was out there, seeking him. The call was of challenge, not to summon other hunters. It had hurt the black female, but it had expected there were others nearby. It had been correct.
The blood had dried, and the gray and brown wolf had use of both of its eyes again, but it did nothing but stare at the open door, which had been blown open. Its form could not be seen so deep in the house, the darkness of the withering day was compounded manifold within the confines of the house, and if it had not been seen, it would not emerge. It had marked parts of this territory. If the trespasser wanted it, he would need to enter the beast's abode. Thunder crashed overhead, and the rain raged more heavily against the window. The wolf made no answer. If its enemy entered, it could not run, it lacked the strength to do any more of that, and had no where to run to, anyway. It would ambush, and kill. That was the easiest way, to catch the hunter unawares and crush him down to the floor, where he would tear his throat out. The beast predator had employed the tactic three times before. Even wounded as it was, it was confident this would work. It prowled to a darker corner of the room, situated near the entrance, down the hall from the door outside. If the intruder came this way, he would be silhouetted against the dim light from the window. The predator would get him, then.
[html] | http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;"> Hehe, well it was! And yes, that sounds good :]
Word Count: 376
His two ears moved one way and the other, and his neck was stretched as if that could improve his hearing. No, his senses did not fool him. Oh, he should have known. He should have not announced his presence, but snuck into every house until he found the beast. He was inexperienced, and would do rookie mistakes. No, his hearing was not tired - all his nerves and senses on end, and there was no sound but the beating of water and the occasional roaring of thunder. The ground shook below his paws as he reluctantly moved towards one of the houses, a strike of the storm shaking through the city as a wave of dark sound and impact. Gvihita warned him, flashed him angry impressions through his mind, but he did not pay them any attention. In the rain the spirit guide was useless to him, and she could aid him no more or less than Cwmfen could, far away and wounded.
After trying some of the buildings' entrances very swiftly, he finally found what he was looking for at one of the doors. The smell did not decrease, and there were signs of clawed paws on wood around this place. The sounds of the storm grew duller as he took some steps inside the walls, and for all his sogginess his furs would not lay still, but was risen like a thousand miniature towers, reaching for the sky. Every nerve, every hair was on edge as he attempted to sneak and map the contents of the house. However, even the house seemed to want him ambushed, as it was littered with planks and broken walls and other debris, which creaked and moved and was broken under his paws. He tried to step lightly, but lacked the skill. He was a hunter of the bow - not the stealthy kind. Around every corner did he expect the large wolf to stand, ready, his yellow eyes eagerly penetrating his shaken calm and throw him into panic. Time moved painstakingly slowly as he crept around the house, and each strike of the storm sent a burst of panic and physical agony through him. Someone would die here tonight - and he hoped it was not himself.
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Going to pm you about damage, didn't write any in this one. Sorry about the wait, had to eat dinner ><
The sounds of the storm outside grew in volume, and the predator became worried that it might miss it if its enemy entered. Fortunately, it was not so frightfully soundless as the black female, and the boards creaked beneath its weight. The gray prowler sat low on its haunches, the muscles of its body--scored though they were--poised to pounce. Everything was perfect. The dark house gave away the approaching male with every step, and funneled the wind coming through the doorway around the rooms and back, carrying the scent that permeated the entire dwelling: the scent of the beast. Every fiber within the house seemed to favor its current resident, from the shelter it provided to the adopted smell to the betraying floorboards, to the wall behind which the desperate, vengeful predator lay in wait. The house concealed the monster and exposed the interloper. It knew that it held every advantage here in its lair. One more battle before the night's end, and it would be a short one.
The predator's hackles raised slowly as its bestial glare focused on the small square of dim gray that was the window. The creaking was growing closer...not too eager, no, the footfalls were hesitant, but they were still growing closer, and wounded or not, the beast was ready for them. There was blood yet on its claws and the taste was fresh in its mouth, it could bear to shed a little more before it turned in for the night. After this, it would abandon this place: one too many wolves had appeared knocking on its door. One more killing, and then it would move on to new lands and new prey, deer and rabbits for itself, and children for the demented mind it had at other times. Just one more, a few days of rest, and it would be away from here, leaving the territory's angry parents behind. The floor in front of the beast creaked loudly.
Lightning flashed outside, and the room was lit in stark white. Just inside the doorway, half of its body still in the other room, the intruder stood. The outline of the predator was instantly clear, and though no colors could be made out against the monochrome flash, its eyes glinted white against the glare as they stared into the face of its pursuer, and the twisted expression of murderous intent on its face was clear as day as it lunged to tackle its enemy to the floor, leading with its fangs.
[html] http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;">I was sleeping \o/ slight pp and stuff, I think that was what you wanted anyway? It's vague, so you can always define it in your next post if you want 
Word Count: 454
Every creak, every roar of thunder sent his muscles jerking as he tried to move confidently through every room. The house seemed painfully large now that he feared death around every corner, and his muscles were beyond tense when he stepped through a doorway with his front legs, and halted to map the room.
The world flashed white, and for a second his surroundings changed to something of another world, its colors present but so vague it could have been a bad print on a very old newspaper. Everything was white, and while Dawali's eyes were shocked by the sudden light, he found in himself a much greater reaction as his gaze suddenly met another, yellow set of eyes. Dawali jerked in surprise and fear, and in a few moments which felt like hours he recognized the male's pose and what it was going to do. Its fur was clotted of dried blood in many places, and most of the beast looked as if it was death reincarnated, easily ignoring all its wounds and coming at himself now with full force. For all the judgments he could make in those moments, the pack leader found in himself no time to react - he could merely stand and watch as the predator lunged at him, rooted in one place without ability to move.
Fangs and claws met him and he twisted below the wolf on instinct, uncertain what to do and what he was working towards. He had received wounds before - and some inflicted by other wolves, but it had never been a situation such as this. In reality, Dawali had never properly fought with another wolf, and this was not the situation he preferred. He was weaponless, and in a form he did not feel the master of. Teeth and claws punctured his skin in several places, to him a flurry of weapons and pain, which he could not calculate. He felt helpless, but knew instantly that he must not allow the other to stay in control. Dawali was smaller and lighter, and would require less strength to move around. The larger, stronger wolf which stood above him like a mountain could not be allowed full control. Dawali's jaws opened and he snarled as he let them snap at random, willing to wildly bite whatever he found in order to search for a way out of the current situation. Suddenly remembering that he had claws as well, his legs joined the fight, tearing at anything they could find. The panic and adrenaline he had felt earlier had been a hindrance then - and an aid now, helping him to ignore the ethical issues he had felt so many times, helping him to survive.
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I hope this is okay. As always, if you have any problems, tell me. If not, then you can either have Dawali start the attack next post, maybe just collect himself/get back up from the last attack, or if you want, you can powerplay Brennt attacking again.
The two wolves crashed to the wooden floorboards, the larger atop its prey, two vague shapes indistinguishable in the dark, two identities lost in the shadows. The dead would be determined before the day could identify him. Perhaps it mattered less because it was not to be revealed for so long. Perhaps the answer didn't exist until it could be verified, with no observers and no light to observe by. If a wolf dies in the night, does it feel pain? The two of them undoubtedly believed so.
The predator's jaws locked into the nape if the smaller wolf's neck, and bit down savagely, feeling the flesh puncture and the scored muscle compress under that terrible force. The smaller wolf thrashed back, but it had forced him to the floor, and here it could surely kill him. Resting on his back, he could wound terribly and remain unwounded. Nonetheless, the wolf knew little of fighting, where the black female would have made certain to keep on her feet, the wolf had not, and turned in desperation, bringing his fangs and claws to bear. This made his throat easier to access, but even as the predator lunged down in an effort to take assault that weakness, the thrashing legs of the smaller creature pushed and raked its underbelly and shoulders, and a wave of exhaustion came over it...its strength wavered, it lacked the power to drive down into that neck. In direct opposition to the pushing legs, it found itself unwilling to push further, and for a moment, even leaned its weight against them, breathing heavily. Then, it changed direction slightly, to circumvent the locked leg joints holding it at bay, and satisfied itself with a chomp on what it assumed was the wolf's chest. The thrashing persisted, and Dawali's teeth snapped shut on its clotting head wound.
The predator yelped loudly and withdrew several steps, blood spattering across the floorboards. There, however, it stopped, and lowered its stance again, a low, terrible growl escaping its quivering lips, bloodied fangs at the ready for another attack. This time, there was no lightning to illuminate the scene. Only utter darkness, and the low timber of a monster's warning in the black.
[html] | http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;"> 'Tis fine :] one more thrashing about? It doesn't seem likely that Dawali is quite as smart as to figure it out already. I left it open as I felt like I'd written enough already, and I couldn't make anything work after that sentence anyway :/
Word Count: 408
Dawali's legs and maw tore and bit wildly, and the male gave a loud bark as he felt the other's teeth sink into his nape - its force unexpected for one who had never battled before. Shaking himself this way and that, he reacted by instinct - not intelligence. He had no intelligence in this field, and his contestant was superior in every way. The hold on the neck was released, but when it was the pain did not stagnate or decrease - it increased, and Dawali gave a slight whimper at it. His legs still worked tirelessly, seemingly attempting to scratch the other away, as if the massive form could be moved by the force of his stick-like legs. Red colored his already red furs, invisible in the darkness - but the heat of blood and wounds could still be felt.
The other changed his tireless attack, and while the male was oblivious to the fact that he had nearly been bitten in the throat, he noticed how his enemy seemingly leaned on him instead of pinning him down. Dawali had, then, perhaps not underestimated Brennt's weakness after all, though it certainly had seemed like it when he had come charging at him only moments ago. The sensation lasted for a split second before teeth again pierced Dawali's skin - now at the chest. The panic continued to aid the red male as pain spread throughout his body, and he bit at every accessible surface in the vicinity of his mouth, trying to find anything proper to actually bite down on. When he by a lucky streak reached with his tooth a wound he did not know existed, he was suddenly torn free of his enemy's grasp, and quickly scurried to his feet.
In the darkness he could hear their breathing - but there was not a glimmer of light to help him determine his surroundings. His senses on edge, he was uncertain what to do to gain the upper hand of the situation. Brennt reacted on primal instinct and with pure brute force - Dawali would have to be more cunning to avoid his own death. Slowly he managed to distance himself from his fear and focus on the task of surviving - taking down his opponent. A low growl could be heard from the other, and immediately Dawali threw himself in that direction, his maw open and ready to bite at the first accessible surface.
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I was going to have him attack, but since he's catching his breath, I think it isn't fair to assume Dawali sits tight until he's finished. Dawali has time to think now, so it's your show, Marit =P Feel free to take the carotid. He'll keep fighting and we can look into the other later?
In the inky black, the predator did not see its enemy's charge, and was taken at the shoulder. Its stronger shoulder took the brunt of the attack, which meant that it needed its weaker to hold it aloft, which the weaker could not do. The large wolf toppled, and its smaller assailant on top of it. The growl roared skyward, reaching its crescendo as a vicious snarl. It twisted and rolled with its opponent, snapping back in turn, attempting to claim the same rage it had employed against the black she-wolf, but that rage was gone now. Exhaustion and pain were all that answered it, and what adrenaline it had left did little more than reduce the shock of the red-wolf's attacks.
Ultimately, the larger animal won out on the floor, and got its feet beneath it. From there, it brought its head down repeatedly, each dive terminating in a loud snap of its jaws. Sometimes it found flesh, sometimes it snapped shut on air. Once, its shoulder even gave out and it slammed its snout into the floor, but it stayed on. Attacking again and again, blood and hair flying in the wake of its fangs and it's opponent's claws. After a dozen or so snaps, however, its fervor abated, and the beast backpedaled until it felt its tail brush against the wall, and it lowered its hind-quarters as it panted. It did not have the energy to maintain that attack until the enemy's death...though it was the predator's preferred mode of attack, it was extremely draining...in its current state, that frenzy of chaos and brutality could not be employed to overwhelm its weaker opponent. It would need to employ something different, or at least take a moment to rest.
An arc of lightning lit the sky, and the two were outlined within the room, the beast hunched like a gargoyle atop a Gothic cathedral, the wounds on its head lending themselves to the image well. And against that massive, wretched monster, stood the slim intruder, bloodied but alive. The gray wolf's breathing sharpened. It would rectify that.
[html] | http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;"> Yarr!
Word Count: 605
His attack was a success, although it did not last very long. Dawali had seemingly hit a lucky spot, for though it seemed for a moment that he had met resistance, the beast quickly fell below him, and Dawali had the upper hand. However, now that he had it, he did not know what to do with it. Adrenaline rushed through his system, and he placed his legs on the floor when he could, biting wildly. He remembered seeing a bloody nape and shoulder in the lightning flash, and his maw sought those places in the darkness, unsure of what he hit and where on the enemy it was. Dawali would not keep the upper hand for long - that much he knew. He found flesh, and where he did he bit down on it until he tasted blood, and if the hold would last he shook his head about before moving to the next spot - wishing to inflict as much pain as possible, still uncertain how to best the animal.
The other found balance and soon they changed position, the beast again roaring over him. His attacks were as wild as Dawali's had been, and often enough he hit nothing at all. Bites to his ears and shoulders and nape and chest gave him new fresh pain, although Dawali did not have time to consider them more than registering that they were there. His legs were busy maintaining as much distance between them as possible, and when the beast suddenly
threw himself off the attack and chose distance, the pattern was obvious. He was tired - as was Dawali, but the pack leader was not suffering from as many and as severe wounds as his opponent, except perhaps the deep lash in his shoulder, which, he noticed, was bleeding heavily.
A flash of light spread through the room and repeating itself two or three times, enough to let Dawali judge the condition of his adversary. In that fresh moment of silence, where the two breathed and that was all, another flash of light washed over him, although it was not in the physical world. He was a medic - he knew which parts of the body that did more or less to maintain life. If he could cut the beast's flow of fresh blood to the head, he would surely die with time. He could likely survive another attack of the same character as the previous - he could wait for death to slowly claim the beast. Dawali Amara was a patient male, after all. Now laden with determination, and a goal to strive for, Dawali lowered his head and growled menacingly, before taking slow steps to his left - circling his prey. Then, silently, he leapt at the other. His muscles were working with his determination now, and this time he could keep his balance if he played his cards well, despite the damaged shoulder. Teeth met fur at the side of Brennt's neck and parts of his throat, and the two spun around with the impact. Dawali shook his head and the contents of his mouth, tearing at every single thing that would be between the two sets of teeth, and likely in the close vicinity of it as well. He was not satisfied before a rush of blood which could only mean success suddenly gushed into his mouth. Another shake, and Dawali let the other go - the more activity he could let the other do, the faster he would die. He would be served the upper hand on a silver platter - willingly, this time. For the last time.
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Give me one more where Dawali opens another, and I'll finish it up after that? I went ahead and gave him one final push before he was too weak to be dramatically intimidating, I hope you don't mind?
The predator did not move, it wanted as much time to rest as possible before the battle resumed. As such, the red wolf was given the initiative, and took it, to devastating effect. The beast's jaw swung open, reflexively trying to limit access to its throat. Its throat, however, was safe: the all-important vein at its side, however, had been punctured. The wolf roared in anger, and pushed with its legs, trying to gain an angle on its enemy. When the smaller wolf finally relinquished his hold, the larger did not hesitate, but plowed into him, bowling the two of them over. Warmth was spraying over the both of them, the severed artery spewed its payload into the air with each heartbeat, and the predator began to feel the chill creeping in. Too soon, too soon! It could still kill the other.
It pushed the smaller wolf into a corner and began madly goring him with its teeth, savage noises erupted from its in-tact voice-box as blood spilled onto the floorboards, blood which now overwhelmingly belonged to the predator itself. A main line into its system had been opened, and the stuff left the predator's powerful body almost as quickly as its heart could pump it. Heedless, it plunged its fangs into its enemy, again and again, blind with range, blind in the darkness, but it had cornered him and knew he was trapped directly in front of it. Still, the cold was growing, and its movements, however vicious, were slowing down. Its strength was seeping out from that hole in its neck, too, but the beast did not know the wound was fatal. If it could kill him, it believed it could still live.
The sun was entirely gone, now. The storm had overtaken the house, and there was no hope of light in sight. The day was gone, and wind was terrible. The two of them, locked in a battle to the death in the corner, were not even provided the harshness of a lightning flash as lumination; no, this contest would be finished in blind darkness, experienced only through pain, exertion, and fear.
[html] http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;">That's cool :] You can maybe take advantage of his attack here to make some large gash in his legs or back if you wanted to do that? No big wounds have been inflicted so far, and if they have I should have read your posts better, heheh..
Babysitting niece again, will be back for a post more before bedtime I hope, though
Word Count: 546
In the darkness there were no sounds but those that came from the two. Dawali growled and barked as the beast threw itself at him - which had been expected. There was a pattern, and the red wolf male would endure this attack once more, and then - perhaps - it would be over. The more Brennt exerted himself, the more his heart would beat, the more blood he would lose. The furs of that male were warm and sticky with blood, a lot of which was his own. As his form was torn and bit and pummeled at, however, the red furs were soaked with the blood of his enemy, gushing from the fatal wound at his neck. Still, the male had not come to his proper self again, still he was in a state of survival, where no ethical battles could reach him. It was him or that beast, a beast which had attacked so many innocents, and even killed some of them. He had perhaps the weaker will to live, judging by the fierceness of the other, but he had the greater luck. Perhaps it was fate's way of rewarding those who did not take lives for their own enjoyment.
The red wolf male stood in the corner and took every beat, but at the same time tried to defend himself. There was still strength in his opponent, and until it lay dead he could not take his eyes off it - although he couldn't see it - nor could he trust its presence not to be dangerous. If he thought he had felt the beast's raging, uncontrolled frenzy before, he was wrong. Pain encircled him as Brennt bit and tore at every place accessible, and Dawali's control over the situation was dwindling. The beast was not growing weaker as fast as he would like. In a moment he considered his possibilities, and then took a chance. His front legs lowered from their defensive position, and he sprung to the side swiftly. His thin self was forced between the attacking beast and the wall of the corner he was stuck in, and once at its side he lunged forward, aiming only for the inner thigh or crotch, or anything in the vicinity of the large artery that ran there. Skin was punctured by his smaller, sharp teeth, and in the force of Dawali's jaw the skin and veins did not last long. His growl was a deep, bass sound, traveling through him along the spine and felt in his every bone. Shaking about, all of his body unprotected from the other, he wildly tore at his opponent's form until he could again taste an amount of blood in his mouth that revealed that an artery had been opened. Then, he backed away from the creature, that growl still ringing in his skull, maintained, his head lowered for protection. He would not die now.
The red wolf's breath was shallow as he prepared himself for a final exertion - Brennt could not last long now, not with those wounds. Not while attacking that way. Both wolves' pelts were red with blood of each other, but most of all it was Brennt's blood which colored the wooden floor which fate had chosen as their battle-ground.
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Theoretically, any of Brennt's frenzied attacks over the last several posts could leave Dawali with serious wounds...it's sort of the equivalent of a human sitting on an enemy and punching them in the face...it's actually more dangerous that way than with both of them standing, so I figured it'd be an invitation for you to just choose where you wanted the bad wounds =P However, for something more clear-cut, I'll go ahead and toss in something here that Dawali can take home with him?
Its prey tried to escape, tried to wriggle between it and the wall in the dark. It kept after him, grabbing the flesh and tearing with its teeth. Still, its motions were slow, and it felt the smaller wolf pull out of its fangs, and run along its flank, before planting his jaws in the beast's inner leg and clamping down, opening a spout of blood where the femoral artery lie beneath the skin. The predator snarled loudly, building up its failing strength, and plunging its face into the meat of Dawali's back, the muscles of its jaws bunching with desperate power. The two released one another, but after a moment's hesitation, the larger wolf pushed forward, ramming into its enemy with its shoulder, and slamming him into the ancient wall, which creaked with ominous import.
After several seconds of groaning indecision, the wall held, and the massive gray-wolf turned to walk clumsily away, before collapsing onto the floor, in a puddle warm blood. The predator didn't understand what was happening, and as often happened when it was unsure of something, it resorted to the words its mother had taught it two years ago, before everything had gone so terribly wrong.
"Mother..." he said weakly, his voice raw and thick with exhaustion, the words heavy and strange as they always were on Brennt's tongue. In the dark, he didn't know that his eyes were losing focus. Laying there in the oppressive night, he forgot why he was hurt so badly, and suddenly, in that blind tomb, nothing made sense to the perpetually confused young wolf. "Mommy, where are you...can't see." He whimpered pitifully, inching his head to the side, as if that would help him see in the black. "I feel bad, my tummy feels sick," the whimpering began to peter off...the dying wolf's voice began sounding sleepy. The blood loss was catching up with him, and the nausea was as bad as the pain of his many wounds. "It hurts bad, Mommy. Where are you?" There was nothing but the sound of the wind outside and his frightened breathing.
"I'm sorry about the puppies. I wanted you to..." his breath came in long and pained...there was a barely perceptible sob hiding in the drawn breath. "....pay attention to me again. I wanted to be favorite." His voice was like a whisper, and with a heavy sigh, he rested his head. The dark was absolute. There, in the impenetrable black, believing himself alone, in a sightless world of fear and pain, Brennt passed from the world. The predator died with him.
[html] | http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;"> This is true, you are smart! And that works :]
Word Count: 638
His jaw still locked onto the beast's inner thigh, Dawali felt his enemy's teeth force itself into the flesh and muscles of his back and tearing the skin open. Warmth immediately spread from that place, both of blood and the body flaming, searing with pain. It traveled up his spine in an instant and he whimpered with pain, only able to recognize it for a moment before his form was rammed into the wall he'd snuck out along. The building croaked and the debris on the floor clattered amongst their feet, their two forms crashing into the wall with a force he could never have produced himself. For a moment he stood there, without breath, coughing a little at the dust that rained down on them from the ceiling, invisible and tainting the air he pulled into his lungs. The enemy could kill him, then, as he stood still and unable to comprehend what was happening for a moment, but it did not. It left him alone, and as Dawali caught his breath again he also realized why. His plan had worked, and the beast was dying. In the stillness, now that he had time to stand still, his night-vision could very vaguely distinguish the form of Brennt on the floor.
The storm had stilled even if the clouds had not lifted, and the thunder didn't roar along the horizon any longer. Instead, the wind soared around corners of the city they were in, sometimes in a stealthy way, sometimes outright howling. The red male was tempted to go forward, curious, but instead he stood where he was, not daring to move. Through the sounds of nothing, merely the night, the voice of the predator spoke to someone only he could see, in a voice Dawali had heard once before, when a dim-witted wolf with a child's blood on his breath had stood before him by the borders of AniWaya. Something stirred in his heart as he recognized the words as pleas for forgiveness, and while there was no forgiveness in his heart for the things the beast had done, there was still compassion - for now, it seemed, he knew at least why he had done it. Its words were as if spoken by a child, and his usual self came rushing back to him now that the panic was over, now that he no longer risked to lose his life. This heart was wrung with pain now, for the things he had done, for how he had sought revenge. He knew that he had done the right thing, he trusted his judgment, but he had never fought and never taken any life unnecessary, no life other than prey. He bled, on the outside and the inside, and it took him long minutes to calm himself, to calm his heart and his breath. Then, stricken by fear at his actions and their results, feeling in no way as the victor of this battle of justice, he sprung from the wall and leapt over the dead body of his victim - for that was how he saw it now, the gray male was a victim of his lust for revenge - and dashed through the building, out in open air where something was still pure. Gentle beats of wings accompanied him as he desperately sought home, familiar smells - not these smells of blood and disgust. He would not reach them until many hours from then, and then the sun would have risen again as if nothing had ever happened. In the eyes of the world, perhaps nothing really had happened - neither the moon nor the sun had seen it, but below the blanket of the storm he had killed someone, murderously taken their life in his jaws, and now he would never lose that taste again.
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