Post by Alex on Nov 30, 2018 19:07:25 GMT -5
Blythe
[cw: gore]
He had intruded beyond pack borders. The scent marks were there, a warning to stay away for some and an invitation to tread further for others. Blythe simply brushed past them, giving them only passing acknowledgement. Territory markers never deterred him, not once in his life. The consequences of intruding did not stir fear from within him, only apathy. There were hundreds of territories he found himself in and each time it was all the same. Cowards or fools. Most end dead at his paws. It seemed no enforcers were around tonight, but if they came he would be ready.
He flexed his jaws, stretching them open before letting them clamp shut again. Typical of pack territories, there was prey abound. He would try to snag a deer or an elk if he can before moving on. Though in these woods, deer seemed more likely. Red ears swiveled to the snap of a twig. The scent on the wind did not deceive him. A pair of wolves.
Blythe stood still, slowly looking over his shoulder. They were behind him, the two wolves stood at each other's flank. They seemed small to him, despite their posturing. One of the wolves, a male, took a step forward, bristling his mane and baring his fangs. "I finally found you, Demon of Ketsuma," he said hoarsely, staring at Blythe with bloodshot eyes. "Four years ago, you killed my pack. You and all your friends. Get ready to face justice."
Blythe gave him nothing but an apathetic stare. These were not words he hadn't heard before. There were hundreds out there, he was sure, that wanted revenge against him, that remembered him. A beast like Blythe was hard to forget, especially when linked to such loss. His amber eyes momentarily flicked to the female beside the loner, who appeared to be his mate. A bystander who couldn't let her lover venture on his meaningless quest on his own. He felt sorry for her, that she let herself be dragged into all of this. Attention returned to the male. "Show me 'justice', then," he said coolly.
Justice seemed like an empty word but he humored the male with it, if only to taunt him.
The male trembled for a few seconds, shaking with all the anger that festered inside him all these years, before he sprung forward, wildly running for Blythe. Not even having had turned to fully face the male, Blythe stepped to the side, avoiding whatever strike the loner had planned. Planned used loosely, as Blythe doubted there was much planning going on in that crazed revenge-thirsted mind of his.
The loner's back was turned to him while he recovered from his momentum and Blythe wasted no time grabbing this male by the scruff of his neck and furiously jerking his head, slamming the wolf's skull into the trunk of a tree. It was then the other female began running for him. He felt teeth cutting into the flesh above his hock. The dazed male still in his grip, Blythe simply sat down, putting all his weight onto the female's head. She squirmed and struggled to get out from under him until she stopped. He got back up and released the male before circling back around to the female. She was not dead but he fixed that with a simple kick of his forepaw rolling her onto her back and his teeth digging into her stomach, dragging upwards towards her chest and setting her organs loose, spilling them across the cold earth. Crimson droplets splashed onto his white muzzle, blending with the fur on the bridge of his nose, and the rest pooled out from under her.
The male had regained himself after hitting his head but was still dizzy. However, when he saw what the beast had done to his mate, there was no time to think or wait. He charged for him, only for Blythe to do the very same. When the two of them collided, Blythe's mass was more than enough to knock the wolf down and send him tumbling across the earth. Blythe ran for the fallen wolf and wasted no time getting a grip of his throat, his fangs buried past the wolf's ruff. He could taste blood trickling through the fur.
More pressure and soon the wolf was gasping and wheezing, begging for air. Blythe would give him that air. He dug his teeth into the flesh and ripped his head away, tearing a chunk out of the wolf's throat and exposing his trachea, jugular, and throbbing carotid artery to the brisk autumn air. Blythe severed that artery, blood gushing out like a hose and spilling over his throat and chest.
He pulled away from his kill, looking between this and the gutted female. It was over now and he was still hungry. Luckily he had no problem with feeding on wolves. Meat was meat. He tore into the male's flank and dug in.
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