Augustus focused Drin in his peripheral vision, darting his eyes away before the giant could notice her presence. His rack like an array of spears aimed at the northern behemoth, were ever threatening, but Augustus was undeterred. He stalked closer, each step like a lifetime, foretelling the creature's doom. His heart was racing in his chest as adrenaline pumped endlessly into his bloodstream. It eased the burning ache in his muscles, and made each breath count. He stood with hackles raised, fur in full bristle, his dusted tail held high like a banner of triumph. He'd already won. This was just the beginning of the end. His head he kept ever low, protecting his vitals from his equally fearsome prey. The scars on his marred face were twisted, contorting his features grotesquely as he growled low and deadly.
The forest king was vigilant, and tossed his head at the white wolf, snorting a challenge. Augustus retorted with one of his own. Just as his brown adversary was about to turn head in face of Drin the Epsilon came charging towards him, roaring, his jaws open wide. The bull thrashed his head in greeting, but Augustus knew the blow was coming and ducked beneath. His body was large but the bull had put such force behind his thrust it gave the man just enough room to crawl underneath. At the same moment Drin's fangs found purchase deep in its shoulder. With a throaty cry of pain he attempted to rear up in defense against both wolves, but as he did so the back leg gave way and he slumped to the ground. Augustus ripped and tore at the exposed neck like a demon possessed, his feasting riddled with snarls as blood dripped hot and crimson down his chin and neck.
In the midst of his ravaging strike he did not see the heavy crowned head as it whipped down to thrash at him. The strike was weak, and Augustus's vitals were spared by his position, but a single prong poked into the flesh of his side. His snarl turned into a yelp of shock and pain, but his eyes blazed and he continued the assault. Even weakened the bull's antlers had parted flesh. The behemoth's side wept bloody tears, staining his dusted pelt, but there was too much adrenaline in his system for it to be anything more than the sting of a bee.
There was an awful gurgling noise and terror filled the king's eyes. A jet of crimsom soaked the wolf's face in blood as the moose's life essence poured out of him. It tried to scream, tried to tear away from the mercilous fangs, but only deepened the wound, and the only sound was the babble of its blood like a fountain. Augustus's snarl was lost in the current, but his tail wagged behind him. A death rattle sounded and mere moments later, it was done. The arctic male loosed his fangs and withdrew. The beast had been fellled, his task was complete.
The climax reached the behemoth was allowed to feel pain and as he backed away he began to pant with the effort. He lay himself down, gazing over at his sister with a smile on his bloodied face. His side was slick with blood, but it had been a glancing blow. No organs had suffered injury. He gazed on the carcass, his tail wagging fiercely. A howl of bloody satisfaction soared skyward and when his face fell he glanced at his sister with pride.
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