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Sorry for the crap—the next post will be better, I promise!
Doubt. He could see it moving through her as surely as the shadows moved across the night infested world. He simply watched her in silence, those hollow eyes flickering with that black laughter. Doubt was so easily sewn within the creatures here, even within his own daughter. It was what made these creatures weak. He could spark it—that was all he had to do. The minds of these creatures would conceive their own troubles, and he would simply help them drown in the darkness they themselves had spouted and spewed like the squids of the deep. This game he played...he played it effortlessly it seemed. The only thing that stood in his way was that masked vigilante. The one whose flesh he had tasted. The one who had found interest in his daughter. That masked coyote was like a troublesome pebble within the emptiness of his soul, and the pied brute turned it in his hand with that dark, sinister contemplation. He could break that thing too. He could create doubt within that male. It would be simple, just as it was now with this little female. How easily a few words could make this thing doubt its packmate. It should be the crow wolf himself that should cause doubt within her. Perhaps it did. And yet, she remained with him, sought protection. It was protection that he could give and that he could take. Doubt.
The pied wolf moved silently in the night, those movements eerily fluid, like a black wraith from the netherworlds. She walked in silence, but the silence was enough. There was no need to speak—he had already sewn his seeds. But she broke the silence anyway. The black ears that rose like horns above his head moved, and yet only one swiveled to catch the words that were spoken. “They changed you,” the treacherous tenor repeated with the blackness in his voice. But he did not stop, those black paws continuing to tear the earth with merciless brutality. The black head turned and the black eyes looked down at the little female with that hollow intensity. It was as if he could see through her. “It must have been unbearable,” the hollow voice commented. He wondered how it was that she was changed. Would it be as he had been, with wounds and bloods and violence that only the dark can deliver? Or would it be through something more appropriately violating? The black flames flickered that that sadistic curiosity. Would it be as he had done with his daughter? For, although she must not know, Cwmfen mac Corvus was born a wolf as Graine was. Would this little female have that same story?