04-17-2010, 12:54 PM
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He was not merciless. Despite all of Patriot's best efforts, Snake refused to be so. He believed in second chances (because he was living his own) and he believed in removing others from war through injury, not death. So when he noticed the fighting spirit fading from the white wolf through the pain of his own injury, he actually slacked off. The Dahlian leant away from his attack and he did as well, disengaging his jaws and slipping back a few paces. He dedicated his mind to staring down the wolf, keeping it on the fight still -- the second it wandered to anything else, the pain would come at him just as it was this wolf. For now it was buzzing angrily in the back of his mind, an upset beehive behind a removable partition.
The wolf's bloodied teeth exposed, growling, but Snake did not respond. His face was emotionally dead, eyes blank and staring. But it was like such with canines; some were vocal about their aggression, others shared their warnings through silence and body language. And that was what the coyote had. He kept himself low to the ground, favoring his uninjured right side, but solid. His tail flicked and his breathing, though quick, was regular.
He didn't say anything, but his eyes were speaking for him. He gave the white Dahlian a choice -- attack now in his pained state, and Snake would have to defend himself. He would kill in defense. Or the wolf could turn and flee, to promise to fight another day.
Either way, Snake was confident. And confidence was vital in combat.
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He was not merciless. Despite all of Patriot's best efforts, Snake refused to be so. He believed in second chances (because he was living his own) and he believed in removing others from war through injury, not death. So when he noticed the fighting spirit fading from the white wolf through the pain of his own injury, he actually slacked off. The Dahlian leant away from his attack and he did as well, disengaging his jaws and slipping back a few paces. He dedicated his mind to staring down the wolf, keeping it on the fight still -- the second it wandered to anything else, the pain would come at him just as it was this wolf. For now it was buzzing angrily in the back of his mind, an upset beehive behind a removable partition.
The wolf's bloodied teeth exposed, growling, but Snake did not respond. His face was emotionally dead, eyes blank and staring. But it was like such with canines; some were vocal about their aggression, others shared their warnings through silence and body language. And that was what the coyote had. He kept himself low to the ground, favoring his uninjured right side, but solid. His tail flicked and his breathing, though quick, was regular.
He didn't say anything, but his eyes were speaking for him. He gave the white Dahlian a choice -- attack now in his pained state, and Snake would have to defend himself. He would kill in defense. Or the wolf could turn and flee, to promise to fight another day.
Either way, Snake was confident. And confidence was vital in combat.