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.

In the breaking of a Birthing Fast, Ishtar was in a bloodhaze. There was little on her mind or in her recognition other than the thrill of the hunt of whatever she chose as her given prey. In this break, it was the elder wolf that barely moved on the other side of this dark beast. When her bloodlust was quenched, when her stomach full for the first time in weeks, then she would easily recognize another of her own culture. It seemed that they were leading a mass exodus from their homeland and into Moladion that trickled in slowly with word of mouth that Baphomet had settled within a land reborn. That there was a bloodline of Angels to cull and convert. Demons were always down for a bloodbath.

She brushed past Hellsing, his words and behavior barely registering in her brain. Instead she lunges at the elder wolf that lay weak and bleeding. She snarls at him playing a short game of cat and mouse with him. He dodged this way and that, with his neck gushing out his life blood in sputters and spurts. She finally went in for the kill, strangling his airway and not giving up until his body gave one final struggle against the strength of her jaws and shuddered to death. It was only then that she dropped him, her chest heaving with the effort it took after so long being without food. Ishtar was not normally so easily winded or exhausted but the Fast of Birthing was something she took seriously. It would ensure that her son would grow up with all his mother's might and strength. It would bless him and keep him safe during his first few months of childhood. It was all these doctrine's that any Demoness that had given birth to the next generation had been taught by their mothers. Ishtar's own mother was not negligent in teaching Ishtar all the mysteries of such a ritual.

The Blood Mouth tears into the abdomen of the elder wolf, ignoring Hellsing for the moment as she eats the liver and covers her muzzle in the blood of sacrifice. As she scarfs down the liver, she raised her head. At last she truly considers Hellsing as if she had not seen him previously. Of course she recognized him as one of their own, though she did not know him personally. She swallows the last bite, and beckons to him. "Hungry, brother?" Were they not all brothers and sisters of sulphorous blood? Did not the flames of Hell keep them warm day and night? Did they not share the same customs and language. Truly, they were brothers and sisters all. "Come share the feast." It was the closest to an apology that the Demon Queen would ever give another wolf. She smiled at him while her tail remained high above her back in an unwavering flag of dominance. With that she lowered her head to continue to consume the noble wolf that gave his life so that she may feast.

ISHTAR.