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Staying around the pack lands was boring! That was the only word the young Sadira pup could think, she didn’t want to leave the lands in case her brother was ever in need for her, but jesh she need to have some fun also. She took off early morning sneaking out of the house, and then out of the pack. Her heart fluttered as she made her way through the un-marked pack land. She felt the rush that pushed her body further, and faster. Her tail jolted side to side as she moved though the land till her youthful eyes full of shimmer of what laid in sight. It was big, really big and it shimmered. The child sniffed the metal fence that was like a physical marking for this pack, they were not wolves standing there, they where way to big.
She was able to find a hole on the ground between the two grassy areas. She wiggled her body under it, as she came upon the black top. She stopped putting a paw down upon it pushing some weight down, and then jumped back. She waited to see if pain or something horrid happened to her paw, it was nothing. She smiled with an impish grin as she lowered her head down and lowered her ears as she moved onto the black top finding one of the silver grey huge wolf things as she walked over to one of very strange legs as she sniffed it, it didn’t make a sound, she tossed up an ear, looking at the wolf thing confused. The child saw it black paw that the two legs where standing on, they were very strange wolves. She titled her head to the side as she tried to bite the paw to get some sort of reaction from the giant beast. It groaned, the child smiled but other than that it did nothing. “Nun, Ihr keinen Spaß!” She stepped back as she started to swat at the wolf thing with her paws hoping for some reaction! She sighed as she sat back down trying to size wolf thing for the next attack. [/html]
A little bit of powerplay, Shannon, I hope you don't mind? I assumed that he nipped her, as opposed to grabbed her, so she can attack/run/what have you. If you want, I can change it, I just thought it might be interested for a little puppy to be confronted with someone who uses no words and skips straight to unexplained and unjustified violence.
Brennt paced desperately through the human structures along the beach, hungrily yearning to catch the scent of the canine family again. They had puppies, he had smelled them before, when he was here with Cwmfen, but they had been gone when he returned. He had missed them, and gone north to try to find others, but had been driven away there again, and now wanted more than anything to find puppies to make him feel better. His interactions with Cwmfen confused him, and the way they hated him on every pack border--even though he knew the reason full well--made him feel like he was bad, and sick to his stomach. He wanted to find puppies again! But they were no where he could get them!
That was when he smelled the little wolf, and his mouth immediately began to slaver. He didn't think, he just set off. Didn't consider how good it would feel, didn't let himself feel the pang of guilt that he sometimes felt, the pressure wasn't so bad in his throat as it sometimes was, because he wanted it so urgently that he couldn't let himself go through the full gamut of feelings usually associated with the act to come. It wasn't long before he found her, attacking one of the big things which Brennt didn't understand, but had feared sometime earlier.
At first, he hesitated. He didn't like the big things, but as the little girl got more and more aggressive with its foot, his confidence grew. If she could safely attack it, then it probably wasn't alive...so big an animal surely wouldn't tolerate affronts from such a small creature. That meant that it wouldn't pounce on him if he attacked her. Brennt licked his nose, a thin string of saliva fell from his mouth, and then he set out. He approached her very closely, waiting for the predator to emerge...concerned, because of how long it had taken last time, and how that had cheated him of his meal. He said nothing, before nipping her hard on the back, trying to get the taste in his mouth, to urge himself into the mindset for eating things his mother wouldn't have wanted him to eat.
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v116/ ... rtable.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> I don't care dear. You know I'm not one to get over touchie about small pp like that. You can either post or Requiem can. words 314
She screamed, not out of pain that had not hit her yet, but the shock of the nip upon her back. The child wasn’t able to move far but she was able to see a paw, she wasn’t going to lie down and take this Shadow Monster attacking her. She swung her neck around as she tried to squirm and flop her way out of this monster mouth. She didn’t want to call for any of her littler mates because this Shadow Monster might be able to call its brothers and sisters and have them attack them. She was in deep trouble. She saw the leg as she snarled and without any other word or sound she locked her teeth and jaw onto his leg. She swatted at the leg, as she pushed to get her-self free. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen, nor how she was going to get her-self out of this mess. All she knew was that the silver shiny wolf had pack members that where quicker and faster than they were. She narrowed her eye down onto the attacking wolf’s leg as she pushed her teeth and jaw to lock into him, made if she was lucky this Shadow Monster would let her go and run away. She was going to be big and mean. Though right now it was rawr rawr rawr Shadow Monsters win, and that wasn’t odds that she was willing to take, she had to win she had to show that she was big and mean and he was just a member that belonged in the Shadows, and she didn’t want any of the adults from the pack to help her. She didn’t want them thinking that she was a child that needed help, she was going to grow up and go find her mother, and no adults where going to come with her. [/html]
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Cwmfen to the rescue~~ ^=^;;
500+
The warrior padded with the grace of the wind through the lands that surrounded Halifax Airport. Although the black wolf did not particularly enjoy the landscapes of the human remains, she had found that she frequented this area quite often. While this may have been due to the beauty she saw in Nature’s reclamation of the land, she thought that perhaps the influences of both Bane and Onus, both of whom she considered friends and allies, moved her to frequent the strange concrete jungles. The white orbs wandered quietly over the silence of the world that somehow seemed stranger here than in the natural realm. She thought that the wind moved differently here, carrying sounds in strange ways that were almost confusing; the walls of the building threw the sounds back and forth until the origin was left a mystery. It was almost a game for the warrior to discern the difference between each thrown length, to identify the origin and better train her mind and ears for the familiarity of this new place.
The warrior paused, lowering her woad bound maw to the ground beneath her paws. She found the scent—a familiar one. Earlier in the day the female wolf had found the scent of her pack member; she had never scented the particular scent, but she recognized the unique flavor that all pups seemed to carry. The Adonis was simply worried that the pup had wandered too far, getting lost. It would have been quite a ways for a pup to wander, but the small creatures were known to do strange things. Curiosity often got the better of them—indeed at times it had gotten herself into trouble. Briefly, the black fae lingered over the memory of the ice and of the attack. With a soft wave of her tail, she pushed herself into motion, gliding through the world strangely shadowed and lit.
The scene that unfolded before her eyes made the warrior pause. She saw Brennt and remembered briefly the day she had been intimate; she had gotten to know him more keenly than she would have had she not allowed him to mount her. It had been a strange and unique experience, and the warrior would not forget it. But the warrior did not forget who she was; while she had shared her body with him, it did not change what she had said. She did not let emotion get in the way; and mere intrigue would not have been enough to make her stop. That day with Brennt had been a satisfying of her body which had been dormant for the wounds; the desire incited by the hunt had merely been quenched and the knowledge gained personal. And the warrior, who was a free creature, was not bound—could not be bound—by a single idea save for one: that her soul would be free.
Like a black shadow that seemed too near to that of her father’s, the black fae was moving. She was swift, her movements like quicksilver as her body moved through the air. The woad warrior snarled, a war cry that seemed to shatter the air like the distant thunder of a storm, and instantly her hackles rose. The woad bound tail was erected as a banner of challenge as the beauty of her maw was distorted by that snarl. Those white teeth were unsheathed, cutting the air and seeking to close about the yellow-eyed male’s maw: release the pup. "Brennt!" The alto melody was strangely tranquil despite the hostility displayed. "You cannot have this one." The white eyes were fierce as the pierced the yellow gaze.
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The creature that looked up at her when she emerged was not same Brennt that she had found so simplistically charming on that day over a month ago. It was the predator, the hunter she had loved, if only for one day, the hunter who saw her as a competitor for the food which was already in its mouth. It opened its jaws, and grabbed the child behind the shoulders, prying her off of its leg and tossing her to the side, baring its own fangs, raising its own hackles, in answer to the striped woman's challenge. The living yellow of its eyes glared burningly back into the whites which opposed them. The creature that she was closer to than any other wolf emerged to face her. It was not incapable of affection, this beast, its encounter with her before had been more than just carnal urges, it felt warmth for the female who had accepted it, but it also detected the hostility in her stance, and knew that this was a challenge of authority.
This territory was not hers. It didn't belong to the male, either, but it was not hers, and she had no call to interfere with its meal. A meal it needed, desperately. A meal that Brennt needed, even if his uncivilized mind didn't understand why. The predator didn't need to understand why. It was simply aware that it had an extra need, in addition to hunger and thirst and sleep, that something crucial resided within these tiny wolves, and that it would eat them whenever it felt the urge to do so. Accepting female or not. Its marred flesh was evident in the daylight, it had known several battles since last time, it was more knowledgeable now, and its hunger was sufficient that it was willing to fight for its food.
Words fell flat at its feet, meaningless, noisome, irrelevant. It could read her intent, and that was all that mattered. This was not a territory in which she was dominant. Briefly, it considered a new prospect. Marking the building might send her away as it had before. The more fluid mind of the predator abandoned the idea, however. The proximity was too close, and conflict escalating too quickly for that. The black female was making a power play. That was wrong. She was loosely recognized as a part of its social environment. It did not want to kill or hurt her seriously, but she would not hold back. This, it understood. It stepped toward her, head low, ears flat, slaver dripping from its maw. It had loved her, a simplistic, natural love. Now, she sought battle. Everything about its posture set off an instinctual cue recognizable to any wolf close as they were to the primitive ways. Danger, those cues screamed. It seeks to kill.
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She felt the monster’s teeth sink into her again, as she snarled holding onto the leg for dear life, if she was going to get hurt by the monster, the monster would bear a scar from where she fought the monster. She felt the release, but it wasn’t for long the monsters took her by her shoulders and tossed her to the side like yesterday’s trash, she couldn’t help but to yelp, god sake it had hurt, but the barking orders of the blue stripped female must have done something to make the monster shift into wolf. The child blinked as she slowly came up to putting her paws under her body, her side hurt from where she landed and did her shoulders but she wouldn’t let a shape shifting monster win this, and hurt one of her pack member..Even if she wasn’t planning on staying in the pack long.
Taking example off the powerful voice of the female the pup lowered her head, pushing the pain out of her mind as she snarled at the monster as she stepped back with a grunt lowering her head she squared it up with the monster leg and charged at him, maybe if she was lucky he would so fall over and then she could attack him like he attacked her. Nr. verletzen, Monster! [/html]
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500+
Within the woad warrior’s throat rumbled a continuous growl. It was a warning. Briefly her gaze flickered to the pup that had been thrown aside, but her attention was ultimately with the yellow eyed predator before her. The she wolf was not pleased. She believed that she had made it clear enough to the male that he was to stay away from the pups of Dahlia de Mai. In return she had offered friendship, guaranteeing that she would not attack him again. Perhaps it had been her own mistake to believe that words would suffice. She had known him keenly upon there last meeting for she had mated with the male, a desire that had been induced by both her curiosity and the excitement of the hunt. But such a thing shared would not stop the woman from attack him, even killing him if it came down to it; she would not kill him if it were necessary for she knew that the male could not help it. But in the end, the warrior knew that there would be a fight, that he would no longer trust her and that that trust would not be able to regained.
And then his posture changed. It was a subtle change, but the warrior knew how to read the silent language of the wolves. For a moment, she grew silent, surprised by that sudden change. She could feel it in the air like the heat of fire that seemed to emanate from that body. It was this that had drawn her to him—she could not help but feel that intrigue now. But the warrior knew what this meant. She had taken what had been perceived as food and she had challenged him for it. He would kill her. It was the basic instincts of survival. The she wolf had known such a thing all too well upon her travels in the arctic, and his posture invoked that primal instinct within her. The fae exhaled softly; it was strangely exhilarating to watch the natural creature. And there was a quiet resolve within the warrior. She was ready to die; she lived with Death upon her heels and she was ready to make the sacrifice of life should it be required. But she paused, the power of the creature’s subtle change making an impact upon the woman. She would have been content to back off if he would allow her to take the pup with her.
But that would not have been allowed. And suddenly the small pup was running by, charging the predator as it yelled something in a language she did not recognize but had heard before. "No—!" The female swore and suddenly she was moving. As a female, she had within her those maternal instincts (regardless of her lack of compassion for the small, disrespectful pups) and she felt them rising within her now. Her own safety mattered very little in that moment. Cwmfen sought to reach the pup before the jaws of the yellow eyed male found her first, and she was swift. With a surprising gentleness that spoke of her control, the jaws of Cwmfen snatched the small pup and flung her out of reach of immediate danger. But by doing so she had placed herself in a dangerous place, for now her body was twisted and so near to the male that he would no doubt have attacked her.
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There is a good deal of power play here, so I need you to pm me to make sure it's okay, Requiem. I figured that when Cwmfen left herself open, something like this would happen. My thinking was that he would do most of his damage to her early, and then when she got up again (maybe during their thrashing she grabs the flesh under his chin, that would be painful enough and disabling enough--he can't bite her in that position--that he'd be forced to get off and she could get up? Feel free to go with another idea if you have one =P) the tables would turn and she'd start winning/making up for the lost ground?
The pup came running forward, and the black female raced after it. The beast's head remained low, ready to take the tiny wolf's life in one brutal motion when she came within range. This would secure the food for itself, and possibly end the fight prematurely. Surprisingly, the blue-striped she-wolf ran forward, snatching up the pup and tossing her away from the predator. She presented a flank to the monster. It did not hesitate. All hundred and sixty pounds of wolf bristled with feral power, and just as the pup left her mouth, sailing away through the air, the predator's hulking body shot into Cwmfen's smaller frame with terrible, merciless force. When wolves fought, they often held back, a fight for status rarely ended in death. The predator was not holding back, evinced by the sheer power of its jaws as they crashed together on the woman it had loved.
Its rushing tackle brought the two of them to the ground, where it stood over her, one foreleg planted firmly on her far side with the other three on her other. It knew how to pin an enemy, if it was given such an opportunity. Its enemy was vicious and experienced, her teeth were not idle and it could not ignore them. Its own flashed down again and again, as they had with the other black female who had tried to attack it over food the last time. Its own flesh tore, but its snout was longer, and it needn't endanger its eyes to attack her face. Over and over it attacked, merciless and wild, intent on her death. She wouldn't take its food. It would kill its competitors, and that was all.
The puppy was forgotten, the predator's love was forgotten. This she-wolf hadn't conceived anyway. She was a threat only, and it would remove her. She would die, and after she did, then it would notice the pup again and devour her. Every hair stood on end, its face was a mask of murderous intent, the massive creature was like some hoary monster that crawled from a nightmarish myth. It wasn't quite recognizable as a wolf now, not the wolves that lived today. Its attacks were not learned, the sounds of its furious labors were not curses or oaths or demands, they were roars, growls, barks...a creature with no connection to the social norms that protected wolves, even back before the virus. It was a being of antiquity, more than just a primeval wolf, it was a loner of an age forgotten.
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A little powerplay about her being able to get away, ^=^
500+
She knew that it would be coming, that it was inevitable. For a single instant, the world fell silent. And in the silence she could see everything. The pup out of his reach, the blades of grass shifting in the wind caused by the movements of her own body. She saw the jaws behind her (or perhaps she felt them) saw what they would be in the mind’s eye. But she could do nothing about it, her body had already moved into those jaws, and she knew it would be this way even as she moved to throw that pup from his reach. As that infinitesimal moment, drawn out by the impact that was sure to come, came to a close, a sharp tone whispered in her ears: the sound of her own soul singing fiercely in the heat of this battle only just begun. Suddenly—abruptly—that moment ended, becoming another. Time resumed its normal pace, allowing those attacking jaws to pass swiftly over her body even as she attempted to turn out of their reach.
A single sound escaped the warrior’s jaws, and it was the sound of between an alarmed bark and a vicious snarl. As a warrior, she knew that she had already lost the advantage of this moment, of this attack. But she knew also that there was still time for her to regain her metaphorical footing before it was too late—if she acted quickly. They fell to the earth, the impact allowing her to turn slightly as he sought to pin her down, those jaws frantically and mindlessly ripping at her flank and back. Pain was not a factor in such a battle, though it would be a prevalent entity once the fight was over. And the black female intended to come out of this fight alive; defeat was not on her agenda. The woman knew that this creature meant to kill her—she had seen it in those clear, yellow eyes. But that was of no consequence to her. She understood her own choices and her own path, and they were separate from his.
The slight twisting of her body had been enough. Her own jaws sought his throat as her body resisted the paws that sought to subdue her. There were snarls coming from her own throat, ripping into the air with her own thunder. Because the larger male’s subduing paws, her jaws that snapped in the air missed his throat but caught that place beneath his jaws. While this had not been her target, the black fae did not release. All those jaws knew was that it had something. Her head took several viscious shakes, intent upon shredding and destroying whatever it was that she had. This was enough to cause the predator to allow her enough room to get up, and she did, releasing him. She placed herself between Brennt and the pup once more, those wild, white orbs seeing only the target before her. The fae’s head was held low, an instinctive thing to protect her neck. With hackles raised and a snarl rumbling in her throat, the warrior challenged him forwad.
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Okay, we have some contrasting writing here. I had assumed that--so that she could get him under the chin--he had to be attacking her face, and that at this point they were both pretty bloody about the snouts, brow, and jawline. If you want me to rewrite so that he was attacking her elsewhere, let me know, otherwise I will assume that it's been mostly facial damage on both sides so far. Also! In the last few sentences, it's important to note that the predator considers the fight in a very primal way, and does not consider skill. Those assurances of its victory at the end are more the culmination of its own predictions than that of the writer, so don't be offended!
The predator's jaws swung wide as the smaller wolf grabbed the flesh beneath its chin. A strange mewling could be heard, as well as odd motions meant to extricate its flesh from her teeth. These were mostly in vain, until it surrendered its pin on its foe and pulled frantically away, breaking free. She had been bloodied worse than it had, her face was smaller, she had been on the bottom, and the lacerations covering her looked worse than the ones covering the beast who even now fought for its meal.
Though it had sought escape, it was not finished. She postured menacingly, but the massive creature was heedless of her warnings. It was still larger, still leading, and still hungry, and it would have the pup, regardless. At this point, it was more than just hunger, it was one wolf telling another that they could not eat; she was not dominant, and its primitive sense of reciprocal behavior was enraged by her actions. It held its head low, the fur all along the rough of its neck standing on end, its torn lips drawn back over two rows of bloodied teeth, vicious eyes stared intently into the pallid gaze of its challenger.
Its approach was slow, measured. Its bulk moved with frightening grace and control, its motion was deliberate and dangerous. It waited until it was close by her to spring forward again, its head turned to the side and its fangs bared to take her legs, its body passing too low over the ground for an attack on its throat or underbelly. It was larger than her by a significant margin, and it knew that she would not be able to hold her ground as it drove forward. Whether she would jump over or skip around and it would need to double back, or if she would try to take a hold of it while it rushed forward, it didn't know. All it knew was that--while she was dangerous and could harm it--she was also smaller, and no more ferocious. She would need to fight harder to avoid being pinned for good and to avoid taking serious damage from its stronger jaws against her weaker body. Sooner or later, like the deer being run down by the pack, she would wear down.
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Well I had her turning to throw Avarice further from Brennt’s way, so her body would have been twisted with her face away from him, which is why I thought that he would have been attacking her flank and back, ^=^;; But face is good for when she was struggling to get away...? Sorry about that~
Oh, and while I didn’t say, there’s obviously lots of room for Brennt to do some damage to her, ^=^
500+
He came slowly, but the black fae did not move from her place. Those white eyes were locked upon the eyes of the more primitive creature, watching only his movements through her periphery. She knew that they wre different fighters, that he would not necessarily heed the nuances of her body’s posture. She knew that this creature was simply a wolf, a bigger, stronger male. But that did not mean that he was insurmountable. While the woad marked female knew the path of the wolf more than most who lived within these lands, she had adapted to the virus, making use of it to benefit what she did have. Her fighting style existed, but she must now adapt, she must remember these ancient ways. And in those few moments, watching him approach, she knew that there was nothing to remember—she simply had to let go. The Dahlian warrior knew how to do this, she knew how to let go, to be nothing and everything, to be only the wind and the earth and the water and the heavens. But she knew also how to see past the moment. And as she gazed into those yellow eyes, she could see far.
The warrior was accustom to allowing the attacker make the first move, and so she reacted quickly. He waged a dangerous battle, and she knew it when he moved to take her legs, to render her helpless and unable to escape so that he could move into make the kill. But she would not allow him to do so. With great celerity, the black female sprang over those jaws. Knowing that this predator, while larger, was very quick, she knew that she herself must act swiftly. As her front paws hit the ground, she twisted her body back, using her hind legs to move her back to the predator, her jaws open and snapping, seeking the neck. His head was low, and she could not find the soft flesh that, with a single bite, could end this battle. For a moment, she thought of Dawali who had come to warn her only yesterday. Within her mind, she frowned. This would be the time for her to end the threat he now posed to her pack. It was a shame. If only he could have let go of the past. But, knowing that he was the primitive wolf, she knew that that would not have been possible. And thus they were, battling over a pup.
Her strong jaws sought purchase in the side of his neck, in his shoulder. She made several attacks upon that area, seeking the vital areas where the muscles joined to become one, where tendons held the body together. After those several attacks had been made, the warrior leapt back, creating a distance between them that should have been enough to keep those jaws at bay. Then she moved in again, in a different place. Once she snapped at his flank before circling about. Her movements were powerful and swift, executed with a brevity before she pulled back. With this she sought to allow herself the necessary time and space to weaken her predator. Through this process it was inevitable for exhaustion to set in her own muscles, but she hoped that it would be the yellow eyed male that fell first.
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I hope this is okay. I assumed that he was free to react to her first attack, and then I filled in some details for the follow-up attacks you mentioned. I'm thinking that--for the last part--she fails to take his throat, but he fails to take her down, as well?
She had gone up and over. A less nimble, or less confident wolf would have failed in this, but the jump was not overlong, it only extended to just behind the massive creature. It swiveled around, bringing its jaws around clockwise to pursue her as she sought to face it again, but she was faster. Having not had the time to get lower than the beast, her jaws came in at an angle, taking it at the back right of the neck, and clamping down, hard. The creature's advance jarred to a halt, the pain was great, and the warrior did not stop her attack, two more times her jaws snapped closed, but the effect it had on the monster did not hold. Its neck was thick, more so even than was normal for a wolf of its height and length, and while pain and blood oozed from the wound, its adrenaline and killer instinct took hold again with alarming immediacy.
By her third bite, the predator was turning inward to their crimson embrace, nudging its head beneath her center of gravity, and taking a bite of her collar as her teeth ripped fur from the departing flesh of its neck, simultaneously moving its hind legs to be in-line with hers, and driving forward and up. Their forelegs were off the ground for a moment, and the predator moved into her, but she moved with a practiced precision that was superior even to its natural grace, and it failed to overbalance her. Rather than becoming a second pin, her flesh was pulled from its teeth, which had not penetrated terribly deep, and she managed to evade the following snap of its jaws.
The black she-wolf took to circling the monster, and it turned always to face her, letting her take the wide end of the circle, letting her do the moving, the walking, and a good deal of the bleeding, though it had lost its own share of blood, as well. It wanted to wear her down, a classic lupine strategy, and so far it believed it was performing so well. She made two, three more passes, and with each she evaded the crushing take-down which would end the fight in the predator's favor. She changed strategies, she attacked different locations, not always the optimal ones, and each time came away with less damage sustained than the monster. Nonetheless, she was paying for it. It had landed fewer attacks, perhaps its jaws had found her flesh once for every three times hers had bitten or strafed its own, but those jaws were powerful, and those fangs were long, and her movements were beginning to slow down, a marginal change which the predator would not have noticed had it been fighting using its conscious mind. Despite her size, she was leading the fight, contrary to its expectations, and it was slowing down itself in answer to its complaining body, but it was also slowly learning her ways, her speeds, her preferences. Alas, it was not learning them quickly enough. A counter-attack was necessary.
This time, the creature barreled straight on toward her, posture high to prevent another leap, but its jaws wide and its head at an angle. Taking its throat would not be impossible, but given its speed and the sheer inertia behind its moving body, it would be a slim chance. For taking this risk--for even if its throat was an unlikely target, it had exposed its chest--it had built up the force for a final tackle, and once the hopping about was over with, and their teeth were buried in one another, its girth would be more than a small black she-wolf could overcome.
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Everything’s fine with me, ^=^
500+
The warrior had met with marginal success, her attacks ripping open the flesh of the predator with whom she had engaged in battle. But regardless of the depth or shallowness of each penetrating strike, the stamina of the male did not seem to become deterred. He did not seem to respond to the pain of those wounds, and so she knew that adrenalin and instinct were far stronger than the pull of pain and death. She herself had experienced such a thing several times, but her own adrenalin levels had not grown high enough to yet achieve what this yellow eyed male had achieved. Because she had never engaged in such a way with this male, the warrior was not sure whether this meant that the end of that adrenalin rush was near or whether those adrenalin levels would able to be sustained. She hoped that it would be the former, but she could not count on that hope to win this battle. Time would not allow it, and her leaking blood would certainly not allow it.
Of the many wounds inflicted upon her body, the one upon her collar held her too him. His force allowed for him to force them both upon their hind legs. She knew that if she remained in that position for long, he would have the upper hand. And she was already moving, instinctually escaping from that dangerous position. As she pulled away, her flesh was torn in his teeth, but it was not deep enough for the flow of blood to differ greatly from the darkness that already made wet her fur. A whine that quickly melded into a snarl sounded from the black fae as she continued that strategy that had allowed her that minimal success. And despite her greater wounds and her greater loss of blood, her attacks seemed to be effective. And yet, she thought she noticed a change in the male, as if he were learning. It was strange that such a slow mind could be so quick and keen, like a blade suddenly sharpened. He was able to inflict upon her many superficial wounds. While a single of those wounds was nothing, together they accumulated to something far greater and crippling.
Suddenly, he moved against her, rushing her with unexpected speed and force. The black warrior attempted to react, but it was as if he had planned for the prevention of her leap. With a sharp snarl, the smaller female had to take that lunge head on. She knew that if she were to fail this attack, the battle would be over with her blood upon the earth. A full rush of adrenalin burst through her veins, and she hoped that it would be enough, would give her enough strength to stop the seeming juggernaut force that was thrown at her. It would have to be enough. The woad marked fae tucked her head in at an angle to protect the soft part of her throat. The harder exterior of her neck was exposed to his jaws, and while it was hard, she knew that it would not be impossible for him to crush it. Her own jaws opened to grab at the flesh of his chest, to rip the muscles there if only to deter him. Her hind legs were planted in the ground in an attempt to force them both upon their hind legs once more. But from there—she did not know what would happen.
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The black female had abandoned her effort to escape early, leaving her time enough to brace for his charge. An instinctually driven foe would not have been able to pull it off, but the discipline in the smaller wolf, the self-control which was completely outside the predator's ability to perceive, let alone understand, managed. The crash came on, and its body--the larger of the two by a fair degree--won out, pushing them beyond her position, but despite the apparent success of the maneuver initially, she did not topple backward; and though its fangs had found her neck, and her fangs had found his chest, neither collapsed with the shock of the pain, and the battle did not slam into the ground as intended.
The warrior had planted her legs firmly, but even so, his momentum had been too much, and had driven her off of the ground of her 'last stand.' Nevertheless, her hind-legs had skidded, but found purchase again, and she had not surrendered that footing despite the pain and despite the perhaps more appealing prospect of attempting to roll out of the fall, she had put herself on the line to prevent the fall, because a more conscious mind than the beast's was able to piece together the eventual consequence of the fight going to ground once more. As the two of them reared up, neither able to knock the other over for the monster's superior mass and the warrior's superior leverage and balance, the angles of their jaws in relation to one another changed. The larger wolf found its jaws at a more awkward angle, and half of the flesh it had savaged scraped bloodlessly out of its mouth. The angle of the smaller female's bite, however, had improved. Standing on their hind legs, access to the male's chest had increased, and as the their jaws worked on one another, snapping and seeking greater purchase, hers were able to find the flesh just above its sternum.
A bestial whine screamed out from its parted jaws as it pushed off against her shoulders with its forelegs, breaking their deadly unison in a small spray of crimson. Taking the ground with all four legs again, it growled long and low, keeping its head down to protect its injured throat. It had savaged her, and she had savaged it. Clearly it bore wounds in greater number than she, despite its early advantage. Still, with its size, it still posed a menacing figure, and wore the wounds fiercely, having stepped back, but not yet retreated. Pink-slaver, tinged with blood, dripped from its open and grimacing jaws. It seemed unwilling to attack her again, but also unwilling to retreat. It stood, its bright regard like hellfire, glaring back into its enemy's white gaze.
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The impact was great, jarring her insides. She felt the force reverberate through her bones almost painfully, and she nearly lost her balance. And yet she did not, though her feet were pushed back in the spring softened earth. A soft grunt was emitted form the woman, her jaws closed tightly about the flesh she had managed to grasp in her teeth. The teeth of the yellow-eyed predator scraped the back of her neck, but where he would have been able to crush her, the upward force of their collision threw his jaws from her will offering openly his breast. With a snarl, she tore at what was offered. Her jaws came dangerously close to that vulnerable neck—she could feel the wild pulsing of that bestial predator, and that instinct to kill grew insatiably within her. And she lunged for it, those jaws hungering for it. She sought to do to him what he had sought to do to her. Survival was without morals, it was without mercy. The wild would take life from her one day, but she would take many lives before that time. If one such life were to be this predator with whom she had made love, so be it. Cwmfen too could be as the wild.
To the dismay of that wild hunger that had filled her being, the male, with a sudden cry, pushed away from her, his paws forcing her shoulders from him. Her jaws were forced open, and for a moment the two wolves were held together by that ephemeral trail of blood. The black fae dropped to her front paws, her movements swift with the anticipation of another attack. And yet, while the male had taken a similar stance, no attack came. But he did not retreat either. Those wild eyes burned at her, dissatisfied with what he believed she had taken from him. The warrior growled, but the impact that her body had just received had used up the strength that the adrenalin had lent her—the male was larger and stronger, and she was lucky that he had been stilled. And yet the warrior did not display this weakness that had overtaken her body. Instead, she growled quietly at him, her own eyes fierce, still blazing with that wild necessity of survival. The woad tipped tail waved silently behind her, as if to challenge the male to come again. But she did not expect him to do so, and if he did she would not have been able to succeed again. It was a bluff, but she held hers well.
Brennt refused to leave, to retreat, and so the female took several steps back, retaking that spot between the pup and the predator. Her eyes never left those of the male. It was made clear that she would not attack him again if he would leave, if he would relinquish the pup. The black fae growled again, a warning this time. Then she took several more steps back, yet unwilling to turn her back upon this enemy. Her hind leg gently found the small pup that belonged to her pack, and she gently nudged it, a silent order to follow suit, to back up and create that space between them. Her black coat was drenched in blood, some was his but most of it was hers. The blue woad that was once so bright was dulled to a deep maroon by that blood that seeped from those wounds. But she would not die today. And yet, the male before her would not. She could not kill him today for what he would have done to this Dahlian pup. One day, however, this predator would find his life threatened, and there would be nowhere for him to turn.
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Man, this one was more serious than I thought. That was a much nastier fight than their first one.
The predator was tired, it was cut and bleeding, it was enraged that the female had hurt it, and desired to end her life and eat the child, but was not acting on that impulse because of another. Fear. Fear of death, fear of mortal injury. The fear was not overwhelming, not debilitating, it was simply deep concern that this fight might end badly, even if it managed to kill the black she-wolf. Its mind was primitive, but it was also perceptive. It knew that she was exhausted, despite her actions, it depended on olfactory signals and slight indications in her movement and breathing patterns. She presented a strong front, however, and while it knew she was exhausted, it didn't know how much strength she had yet in reserve. Her deception was not complete, its senses were too good for that, but it was working in part, for it was not confident enough in her weakness to make the one final attack its own remaining strength would allow. And so it was that her skill defeated the predator, for it had been driven away from its prey, and was unwilling to approach it again.
Caught in indecision, its face still twisted and feral, it held its ground, closing its jaws, the growls it sent in answer growing only louder as the moments passed, as if this last form of aggression might somehow scare the puppy's protector away, and give him freedom to feed. She was willing to die to save it, which she was managing to do pretty well right now. If she was as strong as she behaved, then she would likely savage it badly enough to kill it, either in a few minutes from an open throat, or later from less immediate wounds. If she much weaker than she seemed, it might be able to plow past her and take its kill, and she wouldn't bar its way again, because she would know it was too ferocious for her to stop.
It did not know what to do, and so it waited, and growled as loudly as it could, and kept its hackles raised, and budged not an inch as she backed away, judging desperately that if she ran first, even taking the puppy with her, that it would salvage some of its standing, and not be subordinate to her. She would not be able to assert herself over it later, even if it was unwilling to attack her now, despite her apparent willingness to continue. It would not run...but the puppy, it seemed, may run with the bloodied female.
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Haha, yeah, I know! ^=^
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For a moment, the warrior considered turning to the pup. She considered telling the small creature to run, to run back home where it would be safe with the protection of the boarders and the other pack members. But the black fae was silent and still. She thought that if she were to send the pup running, the yellow eyed predator would be able to slip from her grasp, allowing him to capture the smaller, slower pup. The Dahlian pup’s proximity to the warrior would be safest, even if it were closest to the hungry predator. Even if the predator would not follow, it was uncertain as to whether the pup would be able to find its way back home, and a lost creature would be difficult for even an injured warrior to track. But she also didn’t know how much the brief contact that was had with the predator, or even the throw she herself had executed, had hurt the small creature. There was no sent of blood—at least she did not think so. It was possible that there was so much of her own blood that she could not smell the injuries. But for now, she could not look, her gaze locked upon the predator before her.
His responding growls grew louder, and still he did not attack. The warrior changed her posture then, shifting to stand fully erected. Her neck was more exposed within this position, but this position displayed to the wolf confidence. Her ears were erected, but her tail remained relaxed—this was not a show of dominance. She sought simply to thwart any renewed attempt to attack. If he chose to do so, the warrior would not back down. Indeed, she recognized the situation within her own body, but the warrior would not allow the male to take the pup, not while she was living. And the warrior, while certainly not maternal or liking of pups, did think that sacrificing her life to spare that of the pups was worth her trouble. A pup was new, and its life could grow to benefit the world. Two years have already been spent with her life, and she was a simple warrior with social inabilities and a solitary life. The world could suffer her loss.
Those white orbs held the yellow gaze, her hackles lowered as she held that silent threat with the offer of a truce: for the pup’s life, she would not kill him. It was a simple thing, and she growled it at him. Then she continued, her steps slow but deliberate as she continued to face the predator. You have broken my trust, Brennt, the warrior thought silently, knowing that words were useless against this creature of the ancient wolves. We are no longer friends. And with that, she took up Dawali’s warning. If she had the chance, the black fae would kill this creature. He was now an enemy of the pack, and such creatures would not be permitted to live. Where once the female could have tolerated even his strange eating habits, now she could not, moved by duty and the path of the warrior. She was a protector, and she did her duty well.
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