05-10-2009, 09:48 PM
Man, this one was more serious than I thought. That was a much nastier fight than their first one.
The predator was tired, it was cut and bleeding, it was enraged that the female had hurt it, and desired to end her life and eat the child, but was not acting on that impulse because of another. Fear. Fear of death, fear of mortal injury. The fear was not overwhelming, not debilitating, it was simply deep concern that this fight might end badly, even if it managed to kill the black she-wolf. Its mind was primitive, but it was also perceptive. It knew that she was exhausted, despite her actions, it depended on olfactory signals and slight indications in her movement and breathing patterns. She presented a strong front, however, and while it knew she was exhausted, it didn't know how much strength she had yet in reserve. Her deception was not complete, its senses were too good for that, but it was working in part, for it was not confident enough in her weakness to make the one final attack its own remaining strength would allow. And so it was that her skill defeated the predator, for it had been driven away from its prey, and was unwilling to approach it again.
Caught in indecision, its face still twisted and feral, it held its ground, closing its jaws, the growls it sent in answer growing only louder as the moments passed, as if this last form of aggression might somehow scare the puppy's protector away, and give him freedom to feed. She was willing to die to save it, which she was managing to do pretty well right now. If she was as strong as she behaved, then she would likely savage it badly enough to kill it, either in a few minutes from an open throat, or later from less immediate wounds. If she much weaker than she seemed, it might be able to plow past her and take its kill, and she wouldn't bar its way again, because she would know it was too ferocious for her to stop.
It did not know what to do, and so it waited, and growled as loudly as it could, and kept its hackles raised, and budged not an inch as she backed away, judging desperately that if she ran first, even taking the puppy with her, that it would salvage some of its standing, and not be subordinate to her. She would not be able to assert herself over it later, even if it was unwilling to attack her now, despite her apparent willingness to continue. It would not run...but the puppy, it seemed, may run with the bloodied female.
The predator was tired, it was cut and bleeding, it was enraged that the female had hurt it, and desired to end her life and eat the child, but was not acting on that impulse because of another. Fear. Fear of death, fear of mortal injury. The fear was not overwhelming, not debilitating, it was simply deep concern that this fight might end badly, even if it managed to kill the black she-wolf. Its mind was primitive, but it was also perceptive. It knew that she was exhausted, despite her actions, it depended on olfactory signals and slight indications in her movement and breathing patterns. She presented a strong front, however, and while it knew she was exhausted, it didn't know how much strength she had yet in reserve. Her deception was not complete, its senses were too good for that, but it was working in part, for it was not confident enough in her weakness to make the one final attack its own remaining strength would allow. And so it was that her skill defeated the predator, for it had been driven away from its prey, and was unwilling to approach it again.
Caught in indecision, its face still twisted and feral, it held its ground, closing its jaws, the growls it sent in answer growing only louder as the moments passed, as if this last form of aggression might somehow scare the puppy's protector away, and give him freedom to feed. She was willing to die to save it, which she was managing to do pretty well right now. If she was as strong as she behaved, then she would likely savage it badly enough to kill it, either in a few minutes from an open throat, or later from less immediate wounds. If she much weaker than she seemed, it might be able to plow past her and take its kill, and she wouldn't bar its way again, because she would know it was too ferocious for her to stop.
It did not know what to do, and so it waited, and growled as loudly as it could, and kept its hackles raised, and budged not an inch as she backed away, judging desperately that if she ran first, even taking the puppy with her, that it would salvage some of its standing, and not be subordinate to her. She would not be able to assert herself over it later, even if it was unwilling to attack her now, despite her apparent willingness to continue. It would not run...but the puppy, it seemed, may run with the bloodied female.