05-09-2008, 09:19 AM
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He froze. His muscles would not move. Even his breathing became shallower. Fear washed over him in successive waves and he wan't entirely sure he would live this time. The image came running back, the lost puppy tortured by the wolves, the hatred that had filled him and the loss of rationality, the second time in his life that he had ever felt like that, his heart torn to shreds with every helpless yelp. He had never killed a wolf before (indeed, the attack on Dawn Valley could be counted, but he wasn't sure he'd killed his attacker), but that puppy was almost like Frigg in their childhood days and the memory of his dead sister was enough to make his blood boil. Days later, when the puppy had died because of his wounds, whimpering against Lubomir's bloodied chest, the grey wolf had decided to kill the bastards who had done this. His wish had almost been fulfilled.
Still a weakling before Connor, Lubomir had to shake himself of the spell the other was weaving. It was pathetic, the way his nostrils quivered at the smell of blood and how his body wanted to shrink in fear or disgust or both when the paw touched his face. But he was outwardly calm, rational and most of all, protected within the borders of Shadowed Sun. 'I would hardly call a missing toe a deadly blow, you sadistic thing. You never answered me. What did that puppy do to you and your pack?' No trace of the generally formal tone. Just cool, clipped words. He would not let his speech betray the disgust and terror he was facing at the thought that a murderer was in their midst.
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He froze. His muscles would not move. Even his breathing became shallower. Fear washed over him in successive waves and he wan't entirely sure he would live this time. The image came running back, the lost puppy tortured by the wolves, the hatred that had filled him and the loss of rationality, the second time in his life that he had ever felt like that, his heart torn to shreds with every helpless yelp. He had never killed a wolf before (indeed, the attack on Dawn Valley could be counted, but he wasn't sure he'd killed his attacker), but that puppy was almost like Frigg in their childhood days and the memory of his dead sister was enough to make his blood boil. Days later, when the puppy had died because of his wounds, whimpering against Lubomir's bloodied chest, the grey wolf had decided to kill the bastards who had done this. His wish had almost been fulfilled.
Still a weakling before Connor, Lubomir had to shake himself of the spell the other was weaving. It was pathetic, the way his nostrils quivered at the smell of blood and how his body wanted to shrink in fear or disgust or both when the paw touched his face. But he was outwardly calm, rational and most of all, protected within the borders of Shadowed Sun. 'I would hardly call a missing toe a deadly blow, you sadistic thing. You never answered me. What did that puppy do to you and your pack?' No trace of the generally formal tone. Just cool, clipped words. He would not let his speech betray the disgust and terror he was facing at the thought that a murderer was in their midst.