The tiger didn’t comprehend that the girl was its sister, that she was innocent of this imagined crime. It did not recognize the white wolf was not a threat, not even aware of her. Deep within a chest full of fire and anger came a terrible growl, but there was very little warning otherwise. Each step was silent and well-placed. Training had made it this way, and training had taught how to stalk and kill.
What crept from the shadows of the underbrush was not a tiger at all, but a large wolf painted with blood and hidden by the dark of the night. Salvia’s eyes were wide and her pupils massive, drugged. Bared teeth dripped saliva as she rushed towards the white figure, lowering her body for only an instance before leaping at the figure’s back. If she could grab the neck she could kill the goddess-turned-mortal, kill the being that she believed would bring upon the death of her brother.
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