If thou openest not the gate to let me enter,
I will break the door, I will wrench the lock,
I will smash the door-posts, I will force the doors.
I will bring up the dead to eat the living.
And the dead will outnumber the living.

Her's was a half sleep. She was marked as an Archdemoness, a creature cruel and powerful. She had the capability of creating death as much as creating life. It was not her first time carrying life, but the lives of those within her seemed to thrive with an exuberance that her previous children had not. Though they were not bonded to each other or promised in any way, there was hardly another logical choice for her to submit herself to when winter approached. He was powerful, dominant, and domineering. She was a sadist usually, often leaving her kills alive after she had finished feasting, and her tongue had tasted wolf flesh more than once. Yet Baphomet had brought out the masochistic side of her and it was not unusual to find a healing wound from his fangs upon her black pelt. She remained still when she heard noise outside at the carcass of the badger. She stayed still, let them get comfortable. Let them think that they got a free meal. It was only a moment before his smell waifed into her den. She does not move still, bidding her time while she brought her legs beneath her. He would pay for dragging her this far along in her pregnancy. Why had he waited till at the end of winter to bring them on his mission of restoring balance?

His head was the next to enter into the den. She knew he did not fear her, and to be honest, she did not fear him either. As much as her hormone driven temper did not like him at this moment, Baphomet was probably one of the only wolves she truly trusted. Besides, he was rather delicious to look at, a specimen of dark perfection and deadly power. He was the perfect match to her own lanky frame. His baritone voice vibrates through. She had seen that voice shock prey and make hearts stop in their own rhythmic beats. It sends a shudder through her frame, but it was gentle enough not to harm their future offspring. She lunges at him, her own voice echoing off the den walls. Her mouth only half-heartedly aimed for his neck. There was no true intent for more than a few skin scrapes and bruises. She only truly wanted to make her displeasure known and noted.

The goldenrod eyes watch as he steps back, either from the snapping of her teeth or his own free will, and she finds herself halfway in her den. She grumbles, glancing around and then she submitted to him in the demon way: she spoke first. "Are we done traveling now? Because I am not moving anymore. Spring is coming, and I will not have our children on the road." He was the only that she would submit to, as she knew what she was and what powers she possessed. She was still clearly unhappy with him, her red lips pushing up with every other syllable to revealed the stained yellow fangs. Her black ruff stood on end, making the already thicker fur seem larger. Ishtar did not appreciate being so unsettle so close to her due date. Besides, she had left her last litter by themselves due to Baphomet's command. Granted, they were close enough to adults that she knew they would be able to handle themselves without their parents help. Oddly enough, Ishtar was a good mother even for her own sadistic notions.

ISHTAR.