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.

Ishtar had broken her fast. She had lost some weight during the process with most of her energy going into providing milk for her newest son, Riddle. It was the way of the demons. As she emerged from her den with the insatiable need to eat and the knowledge that Riddle would do well for a few hours inside their den. He had survived the first few weeks of life without complications. His markings blessed him, and she knew that he would be safe. She could scent Baphomet not too far off, and even Rogue would defend another demon should it be under attack. She stood tall, silhouetted by the spring skies and inhaled deeply. The Blood Mouth was back. She thought back to the first time she had met Baphomet. It had been in the battlefield of a cleansing. She had soaked in blood, her pelt slick with the blood of those not worthy of the marks they held. She had not known him then, he was a whisper in the winds to her. She had been content with her blood lust and when they spoke of the Blood Mouth they meant no other than Ishtar. Wolves feared her shadow, and she had been content with her singularity. He had changed that. He had made her want more than the glory of the battlefield and the blood on her tongue.

A birds warning call caused her mind to drift away from her first encounter with the Demon King, and focus on the growling in her stomach. She knew that the craze of the fast was hard upon her mind and that it would not satisfied until the blood lust was quelled, and her stomach filled. She departed from the mouth of her den, decorated by yellowing bones of the creatures she had killed weeks ago. The stench of decay still lingered in the air, but the maggots had done their job and thus all that was left calcium bones. She moved a steady trot, stretching her muscles that had been contentedly curled around Riddle, and after a mile or so, she stretched out into a full run. The release of the tension within them, and the euphoria she felt was exhilarating. When she slowed, she was hardly winded. Her body was mostly muscle, though thinner than she even normally was, she did not look truly starved or hard off. Ishtar was a creature that well made and deadly. An apex predator, she did not fear anything. Even death itself but when it came to collect her, they should expect a fight and to bring the other down with her.

She knew that the first thing she had spotted would be the kill. Whatever it was, would feed that insatiable hunger and emptiness that encountered after the fasting. It was unfortunate for the male wolf that he was what she first encountered. She had the advantage and she made full use of it by charging and clamping onto the first flesh that her mouth could garner in her jaws. The Blood Mouth had caught him off guard and he had responded so slowly, that she was largely able to dance out of his jaws save a few tooth scratches and tuffs of fur missing from her black and red pelt. Yellow eyes watch and she once again lunges for him and this time it was his neck in her jaws. She clamped down before savagely shaking her head. In her hunger she could not feel his teeth in her, or her own blood trickling from the tooth marks. She releases him, not because Ishtar lost her hold but simply because she was playing with her food.

It was rude to interrupt someone's dinner, Hellsing. Didn't he know that?

Suddenly there was a third wolf and Ishtar stopped her advance short, a snarl echoing off her lips. The other dared to question her motives. "Who are you to question my motives? It does not concern you wolf and you would be wise to remove yourself between me and my kill." She did not refer to the other wolf as anything but her next meal. She was not a habitual cannibal but her demonic mind did not differentiate between them. It was a quick warning, one that Hellsing would adhere to if he wished to have his life spared. Ishtar was not in the mood to deal with those that did not recognize her dominance and the death her teeth gave. The Blood Mouth's tail arched over her back, her hackles raised at full height. They were equally matched in height and probably weight but Ishtar had years of experience in killing over Hellsing. Her voice was dark, dangerous and her eyes did not remove themselves from the blood stained male behind him save for a quick flicker towards Hellsing. From her red stained lips a single word--no, a command emerged. "Move."

ISHTAR.