05-10-2009, 09:28 PM
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
500+
The impact was great, jarring her insides. She felt the force reverberate through her bones almost painfully, and she nearly lost her balance. And yet she did not, though her feet were pushed back in the spring softened earth. A soft grunt was emitted form the woman, her jaws closed tightly about the flesh she had managed to grasp in her teeth. The teeth of the yellow-eyed predator scraped the back of her neck, but where he would have been able to crush her, the upward force of their collision threw his jaws from her will offering openly his breast. With a snarl, she tore at what was offered. Her jaws came dangerously close to that vulnerable neck—she could feel the wild pulsing of that bestial predator, and that instinct to kill grew insatiably within her. And she lunged for it, those jaws hungering for it. She sought to do to him what he had sought to do to her. Survival was without morals, it was without mercy. The wild would take life from her one day, but she would take many lives before that time. If one such life were to be this predator with whom she had made love, so be it. Cwmfen too could be as the wild.
To the dismay of that wild hunger that had filled her being, the male, with a sudden cry, pushed away from her, his paws forcing her shoulders from him. Her jaws were forced open, and for a moment the two wolves were held together by that ephemeral trail of blood. The black fae dropped to her front paws, her movements swift with the anticipation of another attack. And yet, while the male had taken a similar stance, no attack came. But he did not retreat either. Those wild eyes burned at her, dissatisfied with what he believed she had taken from him. The warrior growled, but the impact that her body had just received had used up the strength that the adrenalin had lent her—the male was larger and stronger, and she was lucky that he had been stilled. And yet the warrior did not display this weakness that had overtaken her body. Instead, she growled quietly at him, her own eyes fierce, still blazing with that wild necessity of survival. The woad tipped tail waved silently behind her, as if to challenge the male to come again. But she did not expect him to do so, and if he did she would not have been able to succeed again. It was a bluff, but she held hers well.
Brennt refused to leave, to retreat, and so the female took several steps back, retaking that spot between the pup and the predator. Her eyes never left those of the male. It was made clear that she would not attack him again if he would leave, if he would relinquish the pup. The black fae growled again, a warning this time. Then she took several more steps back, yet unwilling to turn her back upon this enemy. Her hind leg gently found the small pup that belonged to her pack, and she gently nudged it, a silent order to follow suit, to back up and create that space between them. Her black coat was drenched in blood, some was his but most of it was hers. The blue woad that was once so bright was dulled to a deep maroon by that blood that seeped from those wounds. But she would not die today. And yet, the male before her would not. She could not kill him today for what he would have done to this Dahlian pup. One day, however, this predator would find his life threatened, and there would be nowhere for him to turn.
500+
The impact was great, jarring her insides. She felt the force reverberate through her bones almost painfully, and she nearly lost her balance. And yet she did not, though her feet were pushed back in the spring softened earth. A soft grunt was emitted form the woman, her jaws closed tightly about the flesh she had managed to grasp in her teeth. The teeth of the yellow-eyed predator scraped the back of her neck, but where he would have been able to crush her, the upward force of their collision threw his jaws from her will offering openly his breast. With a snarl, she tore at what was offered. Her jaws came dangerously close to that vulnerable neck—she could feel the wild pulsing of that bestial predator, and that instinct to kill grew insatiably within her. And she lunged for it, those jaws hungering for it. She sought to do to him what he had sought to do to her. Survival was without morals, it was without mercy. The wild would take life from her one day, but she would take many lives before that time. If one such life were to be this predator with whom she had made love, so be it. Cwmfen too could be as the wild.
To the dismay of that wild hunger that had filled her being, the male, with a sudden cry, pushed away from her, his paws forcing her shoulders from him. Her jaws were forced open, and for a moment the two wolves were held together by that ephemeral trail of blood. The black fae dropped to her front paws, her movements swift with the anticipation of another attack. And yet, while the male had taken a similar stance, no attack came. But he did not retreat either. Those wild eyes burned at her, dissatisfied with what he believed she had taken from him. The warrior growled, but the impact that her body had just received had used up the strength that the adrenalin had lent her—the male was larger and stronger, and she was lucky that he had been stilled. And yet the warrior did not display this weakness that had overtaken her body. Instead, she growled quietly at him, her own eyes fierce, still blazing with that wild necessity of survival. The woad tipped tail waved silently behind her, as if to challenge the male to come again. But she did not expect him to do so, and if he did she would not have been able to succeed again. It was a bluff, but she held hers well.
Brennt refused to leave, to retreat, and so the female took several steps back, retaking that spot between the pup and the predator. Her eyes never left those of the male. It was made clear that she would not attack him again if he would leave, if he would relinquish the pup. The black fae growled again, a warning this time. Then she took several more steps back, yet unwilling to turn her back upon this enemy. Her hind leg gently found the small pup that belonged to her pack, and she gently nudged it, a silent order to follow suit, to back up and create that space between them. Her black coat was drenched in blood, some was his but most of it was hers. The blue woad that was once so bright was dulled to a deep maroon by that blood that seeped from those wounds. But she would not die today. And yet, the male before her would not. She could not kill him today for what he would have done to this Dahlian pup. One day, however, this predator would find his life threatened, and there would be nowhere for him to turn.