Never enough, never enough, hungry, hungry, all the time- she and he, both, yes, both are hungry.
The darkened creature slides through the rain upon blackened wings, heavy paws sinking into the mud and sodden earth as he strides and lashings of rain run thick from the ebony of his pelt to stream down his hulking frame and long limbs, washing away his scent and presence as he comes like a plague across the fields. As ever, he is silent, thickened black claws slicing at the earth with every stride, devoid emerald eyes gleaming with reptilian chill from the obsidian of the shaded cape hear wears, his form layered and wrapped in the shadow of his kingdom as the thunder rumbles overhead and he simply continues, unblinking, unchanging, never deviating from the path he walks, the darkness of his mind fixated only upon the hunger that burns at his veins and a need, a different type of need. He returns upon the break of each day to the den within the wild lands, shielding his ebony form from the hateful touch of the sun to take the place he has claimed as his own beside the white and red one whom hungers in much the same way and has found place by his side. She snaps at him, throws her fangs against him with an anger he cannot perceive, the scent that she emits a changing thing that sees him bring her only more food with each passing day though he growls and drives her back still, eating for himself first, always, before he will allow her to feed upon that which he does not desire for his own needs. She grows each day, her sides swelling though he cares not, does not notice this change within her save for her increasing hunger that grates against his own and her need to widen the den they retire to. Yet instinct sees him suffer this, sees him return to her with the carcass of rabbit and bird, of pups newborn that Mothers have failed to guard from his waiting jaws.
He has long since plagued this land, his hunger never sated, his blackened form lingering always within the shadows for the weak and seek and fragile. Yet they do not thank him, they do not offer him praise for removing the vile weakness of this earth, the treat him only with scorn, seek only to run him from their packs though indeed they never come alone, never, he cannot be made to submit nor bow, he cannot be fought against in single combat, each time they try, each time one believes they will stop the darkness of his advance and yet each time they fall victim to his bloodied jaws and hateful rage. The wolfess of Diveen was the last, the female challenging his right to live, his right to rule the darkness and shadows in which he lingers. He had consumed her as shadow does the light, she had fed him for days and paid for her foolishness. It is easier to submit then it is to fight what cannot be fought, yet they do not learn, they underestimate his power and he feeds all the better for it.
The scent of another lingers upon the air and within the fog and mist of rain as he moves in search of prey once more, the red and white one hungers still and instinct demands he seek meat for her- so he does, his teeth and maw blood-stained with the prey he has already consumed and yet a more potent scent lingers now, heady, rich, male and yet it reeks of health, turning the Black Prince from his path. He cares little to pillage from the well, the living and the strong, he feeds upon the sickness and death of others, preys upon the weak and vulnerable as his paws carry him with silent grace across the earth in all his savage, beautiful glory. For few are so fine as he, few are crafted to well though perhaps his mind has suffered for it, perhaps this creature born of instinct and need is the nightmare they say- perhaps he is simply beyond them. Deadened eyes fall upon the form of another as mist and rain part at his presence, releasing the shadowy Prince to the vision of the other male with the duo-toned eyes, his form on-coming, long strides carrying him with grace and perfection upon the earth as each muscle gleams and his muzzle tastes of the air around the other. He is healthy, strong and yet the blood within his veins is rich still, saliva beginning to pool within the jaws of the son of Jaidah and Demitri as his own heckles lift to further increase his size and presence as he circles wide, seeking imperfection, seeking reason to harm, seeking a droplet of blood to force the release of the hunger within.
No, he will not attack the well and strong this day, but that does not mean he will not test and tease and try to find fault within the other male, his own tail lifting higher in a stance of dominance as a growl rumbles within his marked throat, the sound a guttural roar of sorts that thrums and hisses into the rain as he circles again, dead eyes moving, roving…seeking weakness in the other, seeking a reason to consume.