08-23-2010, 03:01 PM
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His breath was heavy, taking in her scent and the cool air of night. Her scent was thicker now, the closer that she came. It was no longer lacking the life that he had once thought, his original judgment incorrect. But still it was not recognizable. The wolf did not speak, her voice absent even though he spoke in her language. But still the female refused, her paws bringing her a step closer, and closer to her death. The tiger became quiet, the only thing that he could hear was the beat of his heart. There was no fear, unafraid of the wolf and yet he felt the adrenaline beginning to seep into his blood stream, everything quickening. His breath was no longer heavy and slow but shortened and rushed as if he yearned to turn and run. But he wasn’t afraid, the wolf so frail and likely close to her end, even if he was not about to bring it to her. He had killed many, those that had been alone or strayed from their group. It was to save himself, and to ease his bitterness. To ease his need for revenge, to let him still believing that he did not need nor want the species. This would be the same, and this female was asking for her life to end. His mouth closed, green eyes staring and waiting for the wolf to take another step. He should taste her fear now, but there was nothing tainting the basic scent that she carried. The tiger tested her, taking a step himself and speaking once again. You're not afraid. She should be afraid, the end wouldn’t be painless. |