04-02-2010, 11:34 PM
[html]
His entire being was divided into two for this -- one part to block the excruciating pain and the other to continue the fight. Snake thought of nothing else, and it allowed him to do pretty well at both. His entire life had been devoted to this, the fighting; he knew so little else. He knew the danger was extremely prevalent; it always was when it came to wolves. His greatest foe so far had been his brother, and they were equally-matched. Here, however, that wasn't the case. This white beast could pick him up and shake him to death if he got the chance -- Snake might be bulky for a coyote his size and age, but he was still no match for a full-grown wolf.
But somehow he managed to get a decent grasp once more, but in a much more advantageous position. He could feel the more familiar sensations of his teeth slicing through fur, skin, flesh, but then there was the far more grating sense of bone. That had to hurt. He felt the pressure leave from his own wounds (though it was a deadened sensation as he had blocked that part of his body from his thoughts) -- the wolf had let go, but now he could feel him shifting his weight entirely, attempting to get Snake off of him that way. His mind worked quickly, figuring out what would be best to do.
The keening sound that escaped the wolves bloody lips was in his ears, up above the tumultuous sounds of the other fighting. He blocked out sound, hearing only the rushing of blood in his ears, for concentration. Snake clenched his teeth, snapping his head back and forth and attempting to make the wound as grievous as he could in the time he had. Then he disengaged, releasing his hold and moving out of the way.
His breathing was ragged, his concentration slipping. The pain was setting in now, his brain becoming more and more aware of the wounds that were painted across his side, bright crimson. Acrid smoke stung his lungs. He was tired. And yet he forced himself to whip around, facing an opponent that he expected would be coming back.
[/html]
His entire being was divided into two for this -- one part to block the excruciating pain and the other to continue the fight. Snake thought of nothing else, and it allowed him to do pretty well at both. His entire life had been devoted to this, the fighting; he knew so little else. He knew the danger was extremely prevalent; it always was when it came to wolves. His greatest foe so far had been his brother, and they were equally-matched. Here, however, that wasn't the case. This white beast could pick him up and shake him to death if he got the chance -- Snake might be bulky for a coyote his size and age, but he was still no match for a full-grown wolf.
But somehow he managed to get a decent grasp once more, but in a much more advantageous position. He could feel the more familiar sensations of his teeth slicing through fur, skin, flesh, but then there was the far more grating sense of bone. That had to hurt. He felt the pressure leave from his own wounds (though it was a deadened sensation as he had blocked that part of his body from his thoughts) -- the wolf had let go, but now he could feel him shifting his weight entirely, attempting to get Snake off of him that way. His mind worked quickly, figuring out what would be best to do.
The keening sound that escaped the wolves bloody lips was in his ears, up above the tumultuous sounds of the other fighting. He blocked out sound, hearing only the rushing of blood in his ears, for concentration. Snake clenched his teeth, snapping his head back and forth and attempting to make the wound as grievous as he could in the time he had. Then he disengaged, releasing his hold and moving out of the way.
His breathing was ragged, his concentration slipping. The pain was setting in now, his brain becoming more and more aware of the wounds that were painted across his side, bright crimson. Acrid smoke stung his lungs. He was tired. And yet he forced himself to whip around, facing an opponent that he expected would be coming back.