[P] [M] - With Teeth and Claw
P. Skye
#1
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
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OOC: Whispers is in Optime, just crossed the borders from Clements Park, Western Tangles. WC: 405

IC:

A growl slid lazily past Whisper's maw as he trekked slowly through Clements Park. The beginning of his morning had been great. He'd managed to track down a small faun, ate healthily with his first meal in two days. Yet after that things had taken a turn for the worst. The snow that cluttered the ground only seemed to grow deeper, blocking his view of the obstacles he would have seen otherwise as he made his way through the half done wastelands that had been human made. With awkward shudder, he realized he must have taken the wrong direction a while back, passing by a set of trees that led into what smelled like a scent barrier. He'd crossed over into yet another set of packlands which was becoming an almost average part of his life.

With his antler borne spear tied to his back with a tether and rope, he quickly moved toward a set of large oaks, treading softly through the snow with his freezing feet. It would have been easier just to climb one of the trees, move from one to another so that he didn't step on something sharp, yet the water way in the distance didn't allow him the privilege of doing so. Snow came down hard, thick and ice gathered around the shore. Quickly he sped ahead, hands reaching behind him so that he could grab a hold of his weapon. If a member of Cercatori came around, he was rearing and ready to fight as long and as hard as he could. Fierce claws unsheathed themselves almost as eagerly as he'd picked up the spear, though he thought better of it. His spear could kill, maim... maybe even endanger him if he were to get into another battle with it.

What he needed to do, rather, was leave it where it sat. Later he'd likely only end up coming to get it regardless. With a slight twitch of his nose, his tongue lapping out at it, the large luperci traveled more inland, past a small forest of trees. Walking was slow, slower then he could even begin to realize and he'd barely made it a mile into Cercatori when he felt the strong desire to eat again, to survive. His nose drew to the wind, his fierce, golden eyes closing tightly and with a silent grin, he picked up on the scent of cooked meat in the distance.
#2
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It wasn't instant, but when something was wrong within the pack, Skye almost sensed it. Not a sixth sense - but the combination of her hearing and scent, something that might signal to her that something was not as it should be within her lands. That was something that she sensed now - a slightly wrongness about the air, and when she approached closer to the border, she could sense it even stronger - an intruder in d'Arte, someone who was not where they should be and certainly was not part of her pack. Not in the innocent way as someone was lost, but she could scent and sense that this was a danger to her pack - and that was something that Skye would never, could never, tolerate.

She unsheathed her dagger and cautiously moved forward until she caught the scent of the loner - drawing closer to the scent, she eventually saw him from a distance. She swiftly and silently moved to where he was, sizing him up - he was armed and aggressive-looking, the smell coming off of him angry and fierce. Nonetheless she would not let him get another inch closer to the pack's hub, Thornbury - the next step he'd take into d'Arte would be his last.

She leapt out from the forest, blocking his way. She did not take trespassing lightly, and her face was contorted in a fearsome snarl, her dagger held out and her feet light and ready to dodge any attacks he may throw. Her ears were pinned against her head in an aggressive manner, but her body language was extremely dominant - tail raised, claws out, and head held high, ready to fight against the loner and win.

"You trespass, and armed," she said lowly, threateningly. "I give you five seconds to either explain or run."

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#3
WC: 796

IC:

He hadn't been expecting company so soon after trespassing over the pack lands, but was almost glad that id had come in the form of a beautiful female wolf, one who seemed to be firm with dominance and an overbearing confidence. A sharp grin over took the wolf's lips only moments upon his trek further and he turned to face the cream colored hybrid. He hadn't yet seen her before, but now that he gazed on her tensed, battle ready form, her face twisted in a gruesome, fear-ridden snarl, her dagger up and her feet ready, Whisper's fingers clung even more to the thick wood of his antler spear, dark, fierce golden eyes locked presently on the other wolf in admiration. He was large, almost way too large for his own good.

A full wolf, no doubt, yet even so he didn't seem overly aggressive as the woman did at the moment. That grin of his never faded, only growing stronger as the short moments passed and her words graced his wary senses. 'Five seconds...' That was all he needed in order to attack and that was of course what he was going to do. He'd already made his decision that today would end in a fight and whom better to fight then a wolf who seemed more ready then he did in order to tussle. "I think you made a grave mistake, miss. I don't intend to let you win this." Came his words, carefully spoken and easily dismissible. Long legs primed, coiled and ready. He felt a shiver race through his spine within an instant yet he couldn't have been happier then he was now, lips pulling up, flesh folding along the length of his muzzle to display an over eager glimpse of bright pink gums and sharp, pointed teeth.

In an instant, he seemed more then willing to fight the goddess of a wolf, short, yet shaggy mane of black hair pulled back and tied with a single thin line. Both hands curled around the shaft of his spear, claws scratching aimlessly into the wood. "Why should I have to run, hmm? Why can't I just... get a meal?" His tongue slipped free from between snarling teeth to lap at his nose.

The effect it seemed to have was immediately, bright pearly fangs glistening a soft white to add the added effect he desired. His battle strategy was probably most different, a mixture between intimidate and cat and mouse, yet, his attempt to anger her only brought him a more fierce pleasure then he'd originally intended. A fierce smirk came to his lips and the instant that it did, Whispers moved right toward her, small steps at first to see how she'd react to him coming closer, even at a leisure pace that his feet seemed to gain. The breeze that swept about him, the snow that seemed to sting at his feet brought bright tears to his heated golden gaze, sparkling amidst the the starling black flakes that accompanied its coloring.

With his ears held back against his head, he seemed to show just as much dominance if not more, forcing himself not to back down under her fierce dominance. It was this that made him alpha material, even if he didn't notice it himself. His tail shot up to attention, though bristled fur proved just how into this staring, growling match was taking his attention. For an opponent as thin and wiry as the woman he now stood before, Whispers could have seemed like a nightmare, or perhaps a handsome night out on the town. His fur was longer, yet that was only because of the winter, thick, coarse, yet a blur of battling whites and blacks clashing together at random intervals to create a sharp smokey grey along his ribs, some along his white back legs.

The black ran its course right down the middle of his spine, first capping his skull around his eyes and sleeking down to his shoulders to leave a thick white trail over his chest that made his entire lower body. The black itself found its way right to the very end of his dark black tail. He was handsome in a manner, despite being angry and ready to fight. He stopped just a few feet away from the woman and her dagger, careful that he didn't step in the way or get in the middle of her blade.

That would have been incredibly bad, not only for her but him as well. Blood always had a weird habit of making him blood frenzy, yet he'd grown accustomed to it after being what he was all these years. His eyes, over bearing with intensity, settled in to hers to give her a stare down.
#4
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wc: 705

Some would say that Skye was too rash, or too quick to judge - she knew that Jazper had more than once, and probably would again given the chance. But although Skye did not follow a code of honor, she had one rule in her life - protect her pack, and let nothing else harm it. She would follow that to her death, and it would be better for her to have scared off a friendly loner than to have allowed a murderer or a criminal into her lands unchallenged.

She took the moment to study the other wolf. He was large - very large - hulking, almost, with a fierce grin that only grew as they stared at each other. His coloring was dark - she noticed that about some wolves like him, they were dark, if not in color then in spirit. They thrived in the shadows and the unknown which others were afraid of - they used the fear to their advantage, loved it, bathed in it, cloaked themselves in it. But Skye was not afraid. She used the short, almost minuscule opportunity to size him up. Her unusual fighting style would aid her this time; he was large, but that would mean he was slower and would fall harder; he also seemed to underestimate her, given by the look in his eyes as he stared down at her, grinning largely and arrogantly, assuming he would come out the winner.

When she was younger, she may have taken offense at that - may have snarled and growled at the fact that he underestimated her. But now that she was older and wiser in the art of fighting, she found that a golden opportunity. Underestimating her meant that who she was fighting would expect a weak, thin, and pathetic performance - that beating her would be easy. Expectations would be exceeded, and surprise would take over; that very same element of surprise that meant so much in a battle. Fighting, to her, was like a dance - almost like a song to dance to, a battle of the mind rather than of strength. If the mind could be overtaken by confusion, by bewilderment, then the battle was lost - it was up to the fighters to keep a calm mind, one that could expect anything, and be surprised by nothing.

She ignored his assertion that he would be the winner of the fight. He didn't need to provoke her anger - she was angry just by him daring to be in her packlands with the arrogant solution that he just might come out alive. She could see the gleam in his eye - the eagerness in his gaze that meant that he loved fighting, almost lusted for it like a starving cat would hunt down a mouse. He reached for his spear and asked her why he couldn't get a meal, why he had to run.

He then began to move towards her, a smirk on his face that white, sharp fangs poked out of, matching his bloodthirsty gaze. Skye held her ground, not moving and not relinquishing her death grip on her dagger; her pose was still dominant, but she could now see that he, too, had the instincts of a leader and one who would not submit easily, if he would ever submit at all. Still, she held her ground even as he came closer, finally stopping just a few feet short from Skye and her blade, staring her down - daring her to strike first.

He did not need to dare her. Skye did not strike out as expected. As the battle started, in her mind, all pretense fell, all charades dropped. She allowed her eyes to become glassy and unfocused, as if an enemy behind her had stabbed her; she lowered her tail almost in defeat, and swayed to her right side as if to fall and forfeit against the mighty opponent. She swayed slowly, and when she had almost begun to truly fall, she quickly caught her footing and swung her arm out to hook her opponent in the side with her dagger, the momentum gained by 'falling' helping her use more force than she originally could have.

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#5
WC: 811


Had Skye known that Whispers had just recently had a dance with Jazper from the Casa clan, she might have known exactly how to deal with the black and white meshed wolf the moment that she'd seen him. He was dangerous, probably more so then a raving lunatic. But she seemed to have a strict hold on her body's desire to protect her pack. It almost brought a smile clambering to the young wolf's maw. He could respect that devotion almost as much as he could respect death. She didn't back down as one might have when faced with an impossible feat, yet of course the young wolf hadn't counted on her weird resistance against the fear that he'd hoped to implant within her so that she'd back down.

Without a sound, other then the growl that slipped past his maw, glimmering white teeth flashing with the snarl that cut free of his chest, Whispers took a step back and waited, dared her to make the first move if she was so bold to do so. His fingers curled at the antler spear again, unsheathed claws digging into the soft wood and without a word, he tossed it to the side and waited as no answering to his words came other then the growl that had previously met his advances.

She'd given him only five seconds, promised him that his demise would come, yet he knew for sure that he could win this and that overwhelming confidence and arrogance could have very well been his undoing if she struck out in any other manner then he expected. He was very large and that could be used to his advantage in itself if she chose to come from the front. He waited for what felt like minutes, moving forward a few inches and while he waited, he went about sizing her up as well he could manage under such situations.

She was taller then he might have expected, but not as thickly boned as a few women he'd spotted. She seemed to have muscle mass that wasn't overwhelming, but it added to an intriguing beauty that lit up her features. She could be a tough opponent, like the coyote he'd met in Whispers Beach, if she was agile.

Why wouldn't the other wolf just back off? He could already sense that she held no fear in her heart over him. That he didn't phase her in the least, yet now that his nerves were kick started and he was ready for what would soon come, his hands drifted lazily to his side with their loss of the spear that he'd held so firmly. With a slight, intense snarl, he drew back for an instant, leaving his side open and it was that moment that the female wolf chose to lose all coherent thought, at least in his eyes, a brow quirking in confusion. Finally... she was backing down.

Then, of course... he was blind to notice that he was being fooled with. Moments later, her body reacted as she almost fell to the side, her dagger borne hand wrenching out toward his side. Luckily, even though surprised, he had the capability to at least try and dodge the weapon as it made its pass through, but he was too slow to dodge the blade completely and the very tip cut through his fur like butter, piercing and biting into flesh. The wound wasn't deep, but the pain that coursed through his body was and within moments, blood gushed from the wound and ran freely down his side, through thick mesh of black and white fur to stain the ground.

The shock of her having used the weapon on him was minimal and by the time he regained the ability to move, his clawed hand smashed out to slam into the palm of the hand that held the blade, his body moving forward just as quickly so that if her hand moved to stab at him again, he'd be able to exert his heavy weight against her. The fight had begun and the adrenaline of such a thing slightly clouded his mind, but immediately he felt calm regardless of the pain. It was something he could concentrate on, something he could use as a foot hold. That surprising act of acting like she was going to fall and then lashing out wouldn't work twice on this wolf. He was too smart for it too. His other hand immediately moved to the wound that had been created.

His padded fingers pressed firmly into the sliced flesh. It was nothing more then a flesh wound. Something that would easily be healed and not scar. If, of course, he tended to it after this battle. She had drawn first blood and could have rightly been the winner of the match had he been less foolishly inclined.
#6
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wc: 530

Once, Dalgina had told her that her style of fighting was beautiful - almost like a dance. Skye felt that way sometimes; the fight wasn't a vicious brawl between two mighty warriors, but a delicate dance between the minds, where one folly could be fatal and the thin ice they danced on could break at any moment, plunging one deep into the frozen water of the winner's mercy - or lack of.

She was not adverse to trickery and cleverness, as some of her more 'honourable' Cavalieri allies would have been. She knew that her tactic, pretending to fall only to swing around again, would only work once in that particular battle; she did not think her adversary a fool. He was slower than she, however, and that would prove to be useful yet.

The great gray brute caught his surprise quickly and slid to the side, attempting to dodge Skye's flashing blade. She thrust inward, managing to slice the skin of her opponent open, watching as dark red blood seeped from the wound and soaked into his grey and white fur, staining it. It was not a deep wound, only a wide one - after a while it would hurt the man, but now, as adrenaline rushed through him, it would do no damage. The only thing that that wound had sparked was the flame of the fight - all bets were off, and only the winner would remain.

Adrenaline pulsed through her, something that always happened in her various scraps and fights - she anticipated it, welcoming it, now, allowing it to aid her in her agility-based combat. She did not allow herself to become cocky or arrogant, however; that would be her downfall, when the day came that she underestimated her opponent. Time almost seemed to slow around her as the excitement of the battle enveloped her, allowing her to see through eyes unshackled by pain or slow, earthly movements; her senses were more acute now, herself being almost on another plane.

She made the mistake of attempting to strike once more, fast and hard to the stomach; however, the man's large and strong hand forced outwards, striking her hand which held her dagger. She then felt the tremendous force of his body slam into her own, knocking her backwards and down into the ground. She felt the air forced out of her lungs as she was knocked to the solid, frozen ground with a thud and a sharp crunch - she had landed on her tail, wrongly. She did not feel the pain through her adrenaline, however, as she quickly sucked air back into her lungs and grasped her knife, abruptly standing to see the man feeling his wound, blood seeping through the gaps in his fingers.

With a loud snarl she drew her arm back, making to strike him with her dagger in the shoulder; at the last second, however, just before her knife dug into his shoulder, she dropped the facade and instead twisted to the side, moving to slice her knife into his lower arm instead, and moved her center of gravity closer to the ground so that she could move more easily.

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#7
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:Form:Lupine/Secui/(Optime) :Setting: :Date:

Out of all the stupid moves that one could do, the woman had tried to double slash at him, but he found relief when her knife missed its mark with his sudden yet well maneuvered slam of his hand into hers, the one holding the dagger. He'd meant to knock it from her hand, to make this a fair fight, but she was proving that he had underestimated her at the beginning of the match and when his weight collided with her, sending her reeling back and into the hard bottom of the snow covered ground, that resounding crack of a breaking bone, or in this case, tail, brought a creeping grin spreading over the large wolf's maw.

However, she moved to stand almost as fast as she'd fallen down and he ushered himself forward to catch that challenge just as swiftly, sweetly as she had by sending a lower abdomen, closed fist punch rocketing toward her flesh with his left arm. Just as soon as he had, he caught the glimmer of the sun and snow reflecting from her knife which was already streaking out to slam into his shoulder. He'd have moved back, but instead she twisted the blade in the opposite direction giving him only a split second reaction to her movements. He had to make an instinctual decision and it was not one made lightly.

Before he could even execute a perfect plan, his left fist's fingers uncurled and his claws unsheathed themselves, moving to dig into her flesh rather then to punch it while he made sure that his right turned just a sly portion where she couldn't hit the veins within his wrist. The effect was that her blade sank into, point first, the upper part of his forearm, blood wheezing through the splash at her face. In the same instant, the sight of blood brought that instinctual blood lust that he'd been thinking about in the beginning to fruition and a knee rose to slam toward her ribs. Though by now, the adrenaline had lessened somewhat. She was a strong fighter, as was he, yet neither were going to back down and that was what made this entire thing dangerous.

Either the residential pack was going to lose a strong leader, a dominant individual, or Whispers would bleed to death from his wounds. He could already tell that the wound on his stomach would need at least three stitches from its width, yet the one in his arm, the one that still held her blade wretched to the side in order to rip her blade from her grip.

He was already moving too quickly to stop any of his attacks and his body was making a quick right side turn in order to do this at all. Skye was winning the match, but the wolf intended to turn the fight in his favor, to make her lose her advantage and one couldn't move as efficiently with a broken rib, now could they?

A snarl left his maw and in an instant, growled words were ushered forth. "Give up this futile fight, woman!" He demanded of her. He forced every bit of his dominance upon the fierce fighter, his tail still held high, though rigid and strong. "Make this easier on both of us. I'll only take what I want, then I'll leave. Food and nothing more!" The growl that lingered in his throat was definitely a lie. And it seemed to show right through his golden eyes. He'd do more then just steal food. He'd conquer. He'd murder. He'd plunder and what he was telling the female wolf was that she couldn't and wouldn't be able to able to do a thing about it.

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#8
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ooc: slight pp, hope you don't mind <333 wc: 486

As she executed her facade, she saw out of the corner of her eye the man's other arm shooting towards her in a tight, closed fist. Keeping to her plan, she moved her body slightly out of the way, but not entirely, and the man's fist suddenly unclenched to reveal large, sharp claws that dug into her as she swung forward with her blade. She did not feel anything break from the punch except the skin, mainly due to her quick-moving half-dodge, but she could feel the warm blood splashing over her and was certain that the damage could be even greater if she did not end the fight and end it soon. All that mattered now was driving this man off of her territory, forever.

With a fierce grin of success, she felt her dagger sink down into the man's flesh, further than she thought it would. Although he had clawed her - and she could still feel the sting of the clawmarks that had ripped into her flesh, but the adrenaline of battle dulled the pain and heightened her senses for now.

With effort, she reached out to grab her dagger out of him and back into her grip; however, before she could, she saw a rush of movement from below her and quickly stepped backwards before she felt a rush of air that was drawn out of her lungs as the man's knees collided with her chest and knocked the breath of her a second time, bruising her badly as well and perhaps even cracking a rib; however, her quick stepping hopefully prevented her rib from breaking.. too badly.

She glowered at him as he paused to speak to her, telling her to give up the fight - 'futile' indeed. She knew as soon as he had said the words that food was not all that he would take; his dark eyes betrayed his true intentions, and she snarled in the face of his lies. She did not speak - did not allow him the pleasure of hearing her protectiveness of her pack bleed through her words. She would shut him up, however; would interrupt him in the middle of his untimely comments.

She pivoted while he wasted time talking, twisting so that she could reposition her footing abruptly facing her dagger. Unexpectedly, rather than reaching straight for her dagger, she moved a clawed fist upwards into the man's face, attempting to smash the back side of his cheek and hopefully knock out a few teeth in the process. Moving naturally from that position, she then moved her arm downward to yank her dagger out of the man's arm, allowing the blood to flow from his wound. A horrific snarl plastered on her face, she then slammed her elbow into the man's side sharply and with great force, hoping to hear a crack that he had tried inflicting on her just moments before.

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#9
WC: 677 OOC: No problem. :P

Quote:Whispers could have been expecting quite a bit from this close and upfront type of combat. But now they were locked in a grip that they could not escape, dancing the dangerous fight that could only end when one of them were knocked back or either the other ended up dead or worse, a slave to his own game. As his fist came crashing toward Skye, he noted her body trying to rear back, but hadn't expected to actually land a solid claw within her.

Just like that, he had a game hold of her body, just like that he felt that he could do anything, that he could win this match of fates and take her out of the game, only this wasn't a game and he felt no satisfaction of bone breaking beneath his clawed grip at her fur and flesh. A resounding snarl ripped from between exposed teeth, clashing golden eyes locked on her face and her movements so that he could determine what she'd be doing next. The hot, fiery pain that drove home within his arm was nothing compared to the icy sliver of fear that gripped him just then.

His world went slightly hazy as if he'd had too much to drink and he realized that the blood pooling down on the ground, that the thick life essence that he and she now stumbled within was most of his own, gushing from his side, slivering and bubbling around the hilt of the blade that she hadn't been parted from his flesh.

But he didn't give her the slick satisfaction of thinking that she'd won. Immediately, he'd wretched back his arm, only to have his knee slamming toward her midsection. But she caught sight of it too early which only made for a resounding thud of flesh against flesh, cartilage and bone colliding fitfully and the breath held within her lungs knocked free and into the black and white wolf's face. Before he knew what he was going to do, the adrenaline that surged through his body heightened and his eyes averted from hers just enough so that while he spoke, he caught sight of her fist flying at his maw.

In a split second decision, he jerked back.

While this movement allowed for her hand to grab the dagger, to rip it free if she so chose to, though the scorching pain of it having been within his arm had gotten to be a dull thud compared to what came next when her fist caught the very bottom of his snout, right beneath his sensitive nose and drove his head back. He felt the flow of blood clench for a moment, then the spurt that often signaled a bloody nose as well as a pain within his gums as two teeth flew with a single spit reaction from his mouth.

That was enough to give her the momentum needed to drive her elbow into his side so that she got the sound she deserved, two broken ribs with one blow. But although she'd gotten that, the pain from having his nose injured in battle was Whispers' primary focus and he quickly used that to his advantage. She was oh so close and he was ready and willing to drive this match to a close end. Despite the pain welling in his side, the lack of breath that he could get from it and the snarl that lingered in her snout, he feigned his loss by tossing himself back on the ground and next to the antler spear, fingers clenching around the weapon the moment he was able to and with that snarl still lingering within the depths of his maw, he slammed it for the side of her leg.

If he could do at least a little more damage, then he'd be happy enough to leave. Though he hadn't expected the feisty young leader to do this much damage to him. It inspired a delightful surge of respect, yet also a bewildering hatred that he would not, could not get over.
#10
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wc: 604

Grinning ferociously, the pain and sharp sting of her wounds being left behind in the excitement of adrenaline, she felt her fist collide sharply with the bottom of the other wolf's jaw - it hurt her but a bit, but she was certain that it hurt him a lot more. And she was right; her hand became wet with blood as her opponent's nose began to run with the crimson liquid, and she saw two of his teeth being spit from his mouth and onto the snow-covered ground, where they were lost in the sea of white; her maneuver had worked, and she used the opportunity to grasp her dagger and yank it out of his arm and back into her hand, where it belonged.

Her blow to his side also did justice; she heard the painful cracking of two of his ribs beneath her force, and withdrew her elbow as quickly as she had plunged it into him, almost delighting in the pain she had caused the ill-meaning trespasser. She stepped back, realizing that the white snow around them was now tinged with blood; some hers, some his. The clawmarks in her side oozed blood and she clasped a hand against it, attempting to stop the blood from flowing any further - her efforts did not work as well as she could have wished.

He did not do without blood loss either. His nose was running freely with the liquid now, dripping down to the floor and seeming to concern him more than the ribs that she had broken; and now that her dagger was freed from his arm, the deep wound she had inflicted was freely flowing with blood. If the fight did not end soon, their injuries would only worsen, and nothing good would have come out of that for either of them.

The enormous male seemed to wobble for a moment, and then finally topple on the snow - the same trick that Skye had used on him in the beginning of the battle, pretending to lose and then using the opportunity to strike out. Skye did not realize it at first, however, and by the time the male's large steely grip closed around his spear, it was too late for her to move away; he used it to slash at her left leg, and the blow struck. It ripped open a large gash in her leg, the adrenaline rushing out the pain but the sting still able to be felt by her - now and most certainly later.

She resisted the urge to cry out in pain - she would not allow him the pleasure of knowing that he had caused her the pain which she would succumb to later. Rather, she held her ground, attempting not to shake despite her injuries, and snarled at the man, dagger held firmly in her hand and her stance in a defensive position.

He was still on the ground, and she was standing, although barely - however, if he got up to fight her more, she would gladly reciprocate until either he left, he died, or she died - she would not back down to cowardice or fear of pain. Her instincts were that of an alpha, and although she was shaky on her feet now, she did not slouch or crumble. Her ears were still held high - her tail, although now crooked and in pain, was not lowered or in between her legs. Her head was held high and straight, and she stared the man in the eyes, ready to defend her pack if he chose to continue the fight.

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#11
WC: 649 OOC: I'm guessing this would be a good place to stop. :P Skye is the winner of course.

Quote:She'd yanked the blood covered dagger right from his arm, causing the blood to flow even faster before he even knew it. By the time he landed on the ground and white blotches began appearing in his vision, he'd already reached for the spear and slammed it toward her leg. The sound of victory came as it slammed right into her body, gashing open a large wound that he knew would be somewhat vital in his role to win this fight. Though, he felt the fight drain from him after only a short moment. A promise snapped back into his mind of what he'd been thinking before. That if the spear hit and he drew a fair portion of blood, injured the female, that he'd be satisfied.

That he'd leave with no further question. Now that blood peppered the ground, now that his wound bled freely, both the one from his side and the one on his arm, he knew that the fight had been won and not by him. By the female rather as she held her ground, refusing to shake the solidarity of her stance. She wasn't going down. And he didn't want to die today. He'd gotten in a few good hits, two broken ribs could attest to that and more then just that... he'd managed to even draw blood with his claws to dig his hand into her side even if it had only been for just a moment.

Now.. with his spear held in hand, he rose from the ground, wobbly at first due to his dizziness, but the higher he got up from the ground, the better he felt and the better he felt, the more peaceful his mind got. Rather then rush to meet her once again with his weapon in his hand, he turned his back to the alphess and let a fierce grin grace his lips. He'd be back. That was clear as the sun on his lips. But the next time it wouldn't be to fight. He'd already decided that. It'd be to let her finish her work. Her snarl didn't go unnoticed, nor did he pretend on such notions to let her believe that she'd gotten him to lessen his dominant stance. His tail wasn't broken and it was right up as hers was. But his fur wasn't bristled any more.

The fiery pain of all his wounds lessened somewhat with the adrenaline still flowing in his veins but he knew that soon, after this, he'd be a wreck. He'd need to seek refuge, get himself together. He was already having trouble breathing with his nose clogged with the blood that now flowed freely from its confines. His ribs broken, his side gashed open. The wound on his arm very much hurt. The knife hadn't pierced anything major though. But he'd need to get something, anything to treat these wounds fast before bacteria got to them and they festered.

"I'm going. There's no more need to fight. If you see fit to send others after me, then so be it. I won't stop you from sending others to their death." His words were harsh, but he gave way for air to spit a large mouthful of blood and saliva to the snow white ground beneath their feet. "And if I were you, I'd get a better patrol on the lands south of here. Otherwise other loners could find their way onto your lands easily. You wouldn't want blood on your hands." He looked over his shoulder toward the she wolf. "My name is Whispers. And you alphas are damned strong." With that tiny sliver of humor in his voice, Whispers quietly made his way into the forest toward the exit, slowly but surely. Too much exertion of his weight against his wounds could have caused him to go down and that's not a hint of what he wanted.
#12
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<3 wc: 542

She stood there, still straight and tall and as stiff as she could have been with her injuries, waiting for the wolf's next more. And for a brief moment, as the man rose slowly but surely, standing straighter and taller, she thought that he would challenge her again with his spear and the battle would continue. However, a slight surge of relief washed through Skye as she saw him rather than turn to face her with his weapon, turn away from her, near to the borders from where he came. He was going to leave; she had driven him off.

He was still arrogant, or at least confident of his own abilities - the straight, tall posture and straight ears and tail hinted to that, that his dominance had not been challenged. Skye, frankly, could not care less; as long as he was away from her and her pack, as long as he could no longer harm her family, she did not care what he did or where he went, and she could care even less what he felt or who he thought he was. She did note the small grin on his face that perhaps, one day, he may be back, but she knew she'd be ready in any case. At that point, she simply wanted him to leave and get out of her hair.

She suppressed the urge to snort as he said the line of her sending her members after him. She said nothing, but secretly thought in her mind that she would not send wolves after him - why would she? Why should she, if he was finally leaving, the only thing she wanted after all? If she had, however, she was sure that he would not leave the ordeal alive, no matter his assertion otherwise - although he - and she - did not feel them as much now, as soon as the adrenaline faded away, there would be pain in both of their futures.

She ignored his 'advice'; she herself was the one who had been patrolling the borders, and he had not gotten very far into their territory regardless. But perhaps she would make a mental note to, later, encourage more training exercises - she was not sure that every member of d'Arte would have been able to take him on. Before he lumbered slowly away, he looked over his shoulder and told her his name; Whispers. She said nothing, simply watching the dark figure slowly leave her lands.

She turned and began to walk back to her town, but found that her leg was a bit more slashed than she would have liked; it would be much slower in her two-legged form than another form more easily taken.. she closed her eyes and, without concentrating on the pain that it would cause, began to shift in to Lupus form. She felt the bones cracking and lengthening, and finally after a few minutes, her ribcage widening and straightening - and the fractured rib almost protesting as it shifted as well. She bit down on her teeth, willing herself not to whine out loud - there would be time for that later. But now, swallowing her pain, she slowly began to make her way to Thornbury.

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