03-20-2009, 05:22 PM
RATED MATURE FOR EXCESSIVE VIOLENCE
For those involved in the thread, I hope you don't mind, if this bothers you, private message me and I'll edit out the details. It is detailed because I wanted there to be honest revulsion behind the reaction. It is set on Whisper Beach. Also, don't meet this length, I just wanted some build up to the terrible act. The rest of my posts definitely won't be anywhere near this long. Also, forward-dated to Tuesday, March 24th.
Marigold looked smilingly down at her children...the two most beautiful things she had ever lain eyes on. Their father was out right now, bringing food back, she knew, and then it would be her turn once he got back. This place was renowned as a place of danger, but also a place of plenty. A small coyote had to be careful, cunning, and fearsome to make it in a world dominated by wolves. It was the hearing news that coyotes thrived in this place that she and her mate had chosen to come here. They had seen the skulls at the border, and decided that a pack at war with wolves was not a place they wanted to raise their children. Nonetheless, there had been no time to travel elsewhere before the birth, and so they had settled down here, on the coast, in the woods by the tar river. It was comfortable enough, and as the stories said, there was plenty of food here, so the children, nor Marigold, nor her mate Archer had needed to starve even for one day. The coyote siblings looked up at her eagerly, knowing by her mood that daddy was due back soon. That was when someone else arrived.
The wolf came from beneath a sand-dune, brown and gray fur rippling in the wind. It's eyes...something was wrong with them. Stupid, and yet...familiar. Marigold knew she had never seen him before, but they seemed to have seen her. She saw the red staining the fur around his mouth. The dumb, panting smile of a dog that had exerted itself. Her face fell in a terrible grimace of fear and pain. The children lowered their ears...what was wrong with mommy?
"Archer? Archer!?" Her voice rose into a terrible, piercing scream, that felt like it came from all the way down in her gut. The children had followed her gaze and now saw the approaching wolf themselves. They shrunk away...knowing enough to be afraid of their larger cousins. "We're not part of Inferni!" she shrieked, "We don't belong to any group!" her cry became an imploring cry as he trotted closer, blood-matted hairs falling from his mouth. "Get behind me, children!" she voiced her command tremulously, but the rage in her eyes was unquestionable. As the wolf got closer, the fear drained out of her, and was replaced by a blazing hatred, and a tide of rage.
Marigold made all of the appropriate gestures, her ears were low, her fangs were bared, her hackles raised, and still he came on. It mattered nothing, now. Her children were in danger. She might not kill the wolf, she might not be able to, but she would make sure he went through more trouble than he was willing to deal with. Regardless, she would turn him away from her children. The hellfire within the desperate, furious mother, propelled her forward, jaws open, fangs seeking the flesh of Archer's killer.
*****
The predator had awoken in Brennt once the coyote male left the family he'd been spying. He didn't want to fight both at once, regardless of their size. He stalked the coyote, silent, focused, and sprang on him for the kill. It had gone quickly. Once the victim had been pinned under the greater weight of his attacker, he was unable to defend his throat effectively, and Brennt had made short work of him. Not waiting to see if the mother might leave her children to seek her mate, he approached her in their presence. She knew he had killed her mate, but the predator did not wonder at that, did not care. It had skipped through all of the obstacles offered by sentient thought, and cut straight to the heart of the matter. A fight was coming, and that was all it needed to know.
She attacked it many times, snapping at its face, wounding its snout and nose, but with its superior size, it pushed her backward quickly and easily, and having more speed going forward than she had going back, drove her into the ground with its powerful jaws. She thrashed, she bit, she clawed, and then the predator took hold of her belly with its jaws, clamped down, and tore an opening in her trunk. The resultant shriek transformed into a vicious, high-pitched growl of a coyote in excruciating pain. Brennt's already reddened snout grew quickly redder as he nosed about in the hole, and pulled a mouthful of her insides outside of her, jerking his large head from side to side, severing the nerve-laden intestines at several places and leaving her entrails strewn about her on every side. Her breathing became short and ragged, but the damage was done and her threat was gone. He left her, still breathing, on the sandy floor.
It might have been more efficient to kill her, it would only have taken a few extra moments, but the predator felt the growing desire within itself, and knew that the pups were but a few steps away, and so it took itself away from its second victim. The children quailed, but it knew nothing like mercy. Their hearts were beating. It wanted them to stop. And then it wanted to taste them. The first was done with quickly. The second had run a short ways, and Brennt had to catch up and attack it from behind, breaking its pelvis between his jaws. Brennt adjusted his grip. The puppy whined miserably as its ribs began to crack under the pressure of wolf-jaws. The large wolf heard nothing outside of that piteous cry, least of all the mother's weak, despairing protestations. The child died slowly, with the teeth almost meeting inside of him. Now, with both children dead, Brennt began to eat.
For those involved in the thread, I hope you don't mind, if this bothers you, private message me and I'll edit out the details. It is detailed because I wanted there to be honest revulsion behind the reaction. It is set on Whisper Beach. Also, don't meet this length, I just wanted some build up to the terrible act. The rest of my posts definitely won't be anywhere near this long. Also, forward-dated to Tuesday, March 24th.
Marigold looked smilingly down at her children...the two most beautiful things she had ever lain eyes on. Their father was out right now, bringing food back, she knew, and then it would be her turn once he got back. This place was renowned as a place of danger, but also a place of plenty. A small coyote had to be careful, cunning, and fearsome to make it in a world dominated by wolves. It was the hearing news that coyotes thrived in this place that she and her mate had chosen to come here. They had seen the skulls at the border, and decided that a pack at war with wolves was not a place they wanted to raise their children. Nonetheless, there had been no time to travel elsewhere before the birth, and so they had settled down here, on the coast, in the woods by the tar river. It was comfortable enough, and as the stories said, there was plenty of food here, so the children, nor Marigold, nor her mate Archer had needed to starve even for one day. The coyote siblings looked up at her eagerly, knowing by her mood that daddy was due back soon. That was when someone else arrived.
The wolf came from beneath a sand-dune, brown and gray fur rippling in the wind. It's eyes...something was wrong with them. Stupid, and yet...familiar. Marigold knew she had never seen him before, but they seemed to have seen her. She saw the red staining the fur around his mouth. The dumb, panting smile of a dog that had exerted itself. Her face fell in a terrible grimace of fear and pain. The children lowered their ears...what was wrong with mommy?
"Archer? Archer!?" Her voice rose into a terrible, piercing scream, that felt like it came from all the way down in her gut. The children had followed her gaze and now saw the approaching wolf themselves. They shrunk away...knowing enough to be afraid of their larger cousins. "We're not part of Inferni!" she shrieked, "We don't belong to any group!" her cry became an imploring cry as he trotted closer, blood-matted hairs falling from his mouth. "Get behind me, children!" she voiced her command tremulously, but the rage in her eyes was unquestionable. As the wolf got closer, the fear drained out of her, and was replaced by a blazing hatred, and a tide of rage.
Marigold made all of the appropriate gestures, her ears were low, her fangs were bared, her hackles raised, and still he came on. It mattered nothing, now. Her children were in danger. She might not kill the wolf, she might not be able to, but she would make sure he went through more trouble than he was willing to deal with. Regardless, she would turn him away from her children. The hellfire within the desperate, furious mother, propelled her forward, jaws open, fangs seeking the flesh of Archer's killer.
*****
The predator had awoken in Brennt once the coyote male left the family he'd been spying. He didn't want to fight both at once, regardless of their size. He stalked the coyote, silent, focused, and sprang on him for the kill. It had gone quickly. Once the victim had been pinned under the greater weight of his attacker, he was unable to defend his throat effectively, and Brennt had made short work of him. Not waiting to see if the mother might leave her children to seek her mate, he approached her in their presence. She knew he had killed her mate, but the predator did not wonder at that, did not care. It had skipped through all of the obstacles offered by sentient thought, and cut straight to the heart of the matter. A fight was coming, and that was all it needed to know.
She attacked it many times, snapping at its face, wounding its snout and nose, but with its superior size, it pushed her backward quickly and easily, and having more speed going forward than she had going back, drove her into the ground with its powerful jaws. She thrashed, she bit, she clawed, and then the predator took hold of her belly with its jaws, clamped down, and tore an opening in her trunk. The resultant shriek transformed into a vicious, high-pitched growl of a coyote in excruciating pain. Brennt's already reddened snout grew quickly redder as he nosed about in the hole, and pulled a mouthful of her insides outside of her, jerking his large head from side to side, severing the nerve-laden intestines at several places and leaving her entrails strewn about her on every side. Her breathing became short and ragged, but the damage was done and her threat was gone. He left her, still breathing, on the sandy floor.
It might have been more efficient to kill her, it would only have taken a few extra moments, but the predator felt the growing desire within itself, and knew that the pups were but a few steps away, and so it took itself away from its second victim. The children quailed, but it knew nothing like mercy. Their hearts were beating. It wanted them to stop. And then it wanted to taste them. The first was done with quickly. The second had run a short ways, and Brennt had to catch up and attack it from behind, breaking its pelvis between his jaws. Brennt adjusted his grip. The puppy whined miserably as its ribs began to crack under the pressure of wolf-jaws. The large wolf heard nothing outside of that piteous cry, least of all the mother's weak, despairing protestations. The child died slowly, with the teeth almost meeting inside of him. Now, with both children dead, Brennt began to eat.