Recoil

[Slaying the Dreamer]

[html]

http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c13/v ... erhaps.jpg); background-position:top; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:1px solid black;"> ooc: =^-^= Okay! Um, did Corvus want to dump him on the borders? Or Slay would wake in the morning, and limp home to warn them. Either way. If Corvus has a specific message for his daughter, Slay will still hear it if he whispers in his ear. I've got soul but I'm not a soldier As you wish... In an odd, detached sort of way, Slay thought that was an uncharacteristically subservient thing for the creature to say. Had their roles reversed so soon? Or was it simpler than that - the crow-wolf would honor any request to inflict more pain...? As the monstrous brute roared a battle cry, finally breaking his own silence to lunge at the Head Hunter, Slay felt time slowing around him, his senses honing in to the perilous situation he found himself entangled. He dug his heels into the slick ground, bracing himself for Corvus's wicked-fast tackle. The antagonist cracked against his chest like a stone wall, skidding him backwards on the grass until his hindpaws touched water. He was losing ground, with the springwater at his back. He heard his own rippling snarls and cries from afar, as though it were another wolf being torn to shreds in front of him. Felt the hot blood spattering the grass as those trained jaws snapped again and again into his shoulders, his back, the thick mane around his neck. If he had been more lucid, he would have marveled at how wildly shaggy his pelt had grown in this new form, at how his rich arctic coat deflected the showering blows raining from all sides. But the violent night was drawing to a close, so soon, his mind noted in that floating, trance-like state. He would lose consciousness soon. At least he would get some rest. "D-dammit," he gasped, newfound optimism sunken into despair. He still did not sense the intent to kill from Corvus - if he passed out before him, the predator would probably not tear his throat out. Probably. But he hated to fail - from the beginning, he had promised others that he would protect them if the need arose. He had never lacked faith in his size or strength, although it was inevitable that someone bigger, someone stronger, would come along. It would be shameful for Cwmfen nic Graine mac Corvus to see him now, trying to stop her sire from his cruel machinations, and in the end becoming another problem for her to take care of. At least he could warn her, that she was not safe any longer... That she would need to gather several warriors to put this brute down for good. Slay gritted his teeth, gathering the last of his strength to wrench himself away from the Korean's slashing embrace, tumbling backwards into the cool water. Blood streamed away from him in an undulating ribbon pattern through the dark water, the countless rips and tears in his skin soothed by the haunted pool's kiss. He struggled to stand, the water dragging on his fur, sanguine-stained legs trembling from exhaustion. It was too little, too late. His ice-pale eyes grew dull from the effort, rolling backwards into his skull as his haunches buckled. He lay limp in the shallows, jaws parted as his lifeblood ebbed into the pool of darkness, drifting into his dreams. I'm sorry...

[/html]