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Onus was playing rougher this time. In their first battle, the coyote had been more reserved in his fighting, ultimately nearly costing him his life. But tonight, it was amusing. It was as if that male actually believed that Cwmfen nic Graine mac Corvus was not rightfully in the possession of her father. It was if that male actually believed that he could have her.
As he moved to snap his jaws about the head of the coyote, the opponent’s knee smashed into his groin. He snarled but did not back away. The knee crushed into his loins once more, twice more, before the brute was forced back. That snarl was curled into a terrible sneer as his jaws snapped shut upon the cloth that hid the eyes of the other. He pulled away from the coyote, sliding back as his bloodied jaws discarded the piece of fabric that floated insignificantly to the floor, a mere trifle. His body was impervious to the other torn pains of the flesh. He was aware that his blood flowed freely, but the coyote had suffered an equal fate and would die. As the crow wolf crouched slightly against the throbbing of his loins, those hollow eyes pierced the other’s face.
He laughed then, a louder, blacker cacophony that sounded mockingly in the air. The coyote’s eyes were as black as his. See, the brute snarled, his jaws parting to expose those bone white teeth, we are the same. The pied brute leapt, a more primal attack than what his martial training would allow, as if he regressed now into the more primal instincts of the wolf he once was. But only his shaped had changed, not his soul. That hallow thing breathed in the smell of crime that permeated through the air of the room as those cruel jaws pulled back in a cacophonic challenge, those white, hungering teeth urging that Onus forward. As was the nature of the Darkness, he bid the other come to him. He was not inferior, he was superior, and he would do no other's bidding.