01-11-2010, 11:40 PM
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Sam stood, his legs spread apart and stiff. His eyes were narrowed, but he wasn’t looking at the other canine. No, he was glaring at the ground, his jaws open and salivating. His breaths were ragged and labored as he stood shakily, strings of spit dripping from his teeth.
The movement of the wolf snapped him out of his reverie. His hostility flared once more, but almost immediately after it piqued, it dwindled down, leaving the coyote feeling very tired and drained. He sighed, shutting his eyes.
“Go. Get out of here before I change my mind.” He wanted to turn his back on the wolf, but experience and his own extreme paranoia prevented that. Instead, he settled for backing up so he was fully in Inferni lands once more. The scent line, though it was invisible, did help to soothe his rattled nerves and provided him with a welcome flare of pride for his pack. This feeling of pack was rare, far and in between for the insane coyote; he didn’t know if he liked it or not.
But suddenly, the wolf attacked him back. This sent his blood into a rage; it pumped into his limbs, giving him a wave of renewed energy. The wolf snapped his jaws, catching Sam's pelt in his teeth. The coyote yelped as he felt the sharp teeth of his opponent pinch a small part of his flesh; he had just barely managed to grab a hold of him. Baring his teeth, he let loose a fierce growl. He was surprised more than angered by the response; this wolf had struck him as nothing more than a little lost puppy. But he had proved to Sam that he wouldn't be pushed around.
Not one to be outdone, however, Sam staggered forward, his muzzle wrinkled in a snarl. He leaped at the larger canine, his paws coming back to earth a foot or so from the wolf. Sam's head began to spin. He wanted to end this; the noise in his own head was really beginning to bother him. "Like I said. Get the hell out." He backed slowly once more back into Inferni territory.
He sat on his haunches, watching the wolf. He shook his head again, trying to rid his head of the ever present buzzing. This meeting had done nothing to reassure Sam that he was ready for this war. If anything, he needed a lot of work to control his addled brain. He knew he couldn’t confide in anyone in Inferni. It would be up to him to ready himself for the war. He knew that if he couldn’t get a grasp on this, he would surely get killed. It prevented him from fighting properly, and even if he was fighting in self-defense, he knew for certain that it would not bode well for him.
The coyote wondered what this stranger would do now; Sam had obviously backed down. If it had been him, and he was free of this damn condition, he would have most certainly have attacked at least once before fleeing. But that sort of retaliation had been him in the old days, before the first war.
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Sam stood, his legs spread apart and stiff. His eyes were narrowed, but he wasn’t looking at the other canine. No, he was glaring at the ground, his jaws open and salivating. His breaths were ragged and labored as he stood shakily, strings of spit dripping from his teeth.
The movement of the wolf snapped him out of his reverie. His hostility flared once more, but almost immediately after it piqued, it dwindled down, leaving the coyote feeling very tired and drained. He sighed, shutting his eyes.
“Go. Get out of here before I change my mind.” He wanted to turn his back on the wolf, but experience and his own extreme paranoia prevented that. Instead, he settled for backing up so he was fully in Inferni lands once more. The scent line, though it was invisible, did help to soothe his rattled nerves and provided him with a welcome flare of pride for his pack. This feeling of pack was rare, far and in between for the insane coyote; he didn’t know if he liked it or not.
But suddenly, the wolf attacked him back. This sent his blood into a rage; it pumped into his limbs, giving him a wave of renewed energy. The wolf snapped his jaws, catching Sam's pelt in his teeth. The coyote yelped as he felt the sharp teeth of his opponent pinch a small part of his flesh; he had just barely managed to grab a hold of him. Baring his teeth, he let loose a fierce growl. He was surprised more than angered by the response; this wolf had struck him as nothing more than a little lost puppy. But he had proved to Sam that he wouldn't be pushed around.
Not one to be outdone, however, Sam staggered forward, his muzzle wrinkled in a snarl. He leaped at the larger canine, his paws coming back to earth a foot or so from the wolf. Sam's head began to spin. He wanted to end this; the noise in his own head was really beginning to bother him. "Like I said. Get the hell out." He backed slowly once more back into Inferni territory.
He sat on his haunches, watching the wolf. He shook his head again, trying to rid his head of the ever present buzzing. This meeting had done nothing to reassure Sam that he was ready for this war. If anything, he needed a lot of work to control his addled brain. He knew he couldn’t confide in anyone in Inferni. It would be up to him to ready himself for the war. He knew that if he couldn’t get a grasp on this, he would surely get killed. It prevented him from fighting properly, and even if he was fighting in self-defense, he knew for certain that it would not bode well for him.
The coyote wondered what this stranger would do now; Sam had obviously backed down. If it had been him, and he was free of this damn condition, he would have most certainly have attacked at least once before fleeing. But that sort of retaliation had been him in the old days, before the first war.
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