(466) I'm starting to chant to myself not to feel sorry for Reagan. Don't feel sorry, don't sorry... ;m; Its not working. I'm a terrible person. Seriously, I'm about to go in a corner and just bawl. Not even going to ask if PP is okay cause I'm already a horrible person.[/html]
He had paused over her, and her large eyes could only look back at the ugly, beastly green. She saw nothing but murderous intent, a fire that had wished to consume her. That pause seemed to stretch on forever as she stared down the wolf. She could have sworn that she saw some shift of emotion, that his gurgling sounds were words trying to be form instead of monstrous growls. For the most fleeting of moments, the last shred of compassion that was left wondered if this was all a misunderstanding. But it was too late.
There was no mercy on either side. His teeth were bared, and leaned in, hungry for her life. The knife was soon buried into his flesh without any more remorse, and it stopped him in his tracks as his throaty growls were replaced with quick intakes of air. He had started to shiver over her, and he soon turned hysterical. When he pulled away from her, her grip was still hard on the hilt despite the blood that now slicked it, the lion's head speckled crimson. It ripped out of him raggedly, and the muted sounds of the motion chilled her somewhat, but the cries of the wolf kept her from being nauseous.
He leaped from on top of her, and she quickly rose to her feet without any hesitation. He had started to retreat, sniveling away with a trail of blood tailing after him. She did not consider for a moment of letting him leave, to show him an ounce of humanity. If she was nothing more than a damned monster to him, a beast that is an unregrettable kill, she may as well be one.
She hit the ground running upon she had regained her balance, her round gaze seeming larger than before, her pupils dilated, wild. In moments, she was upon him, hands shoving him to the ground roughly and without grace. Despite her small size, an overwhelming strength suddenly came over her as she pinned him down on his back, and if the male tried to squirm away from her grip, it would have been futile.
With clawed hands, she grabbed his muzzle from under his jaw, and made him face towards her. The tides had turned, and it was now her time to looked down upon the victim. "Can't what?" she asked quietly, too quietly, too peacefully. Her voice was emotionless, devoid of anything. "You did not have to, but you did anyway. Without hesitation." It was his choice, on his own initiative that he had attacked her and the other coyote. He did so without a second thought, to prove himself something when he was nothing to the world. If anything, he dug himself a deeper hole, deep enough to be his own grave.
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