Too far back, to far back. Yes, yes. Fangs slash and cut within the darkness of the gloom, the tiny female having retreated to far back within the darkness of her sanctuary for the demons teeth to find purchase upon her heated flash, his companions jaws falling equally short as the rain lashes and rolls in rivulets across the blackened form of the creature as his breathe coils like smoke in the air, heated gasps that slither into the thunder and downpour as a growl rolls within his damaged throat and his claws set to work once more, his mind having formed an obsession with this task, this hunt become a game to his fractured existence. Yet the demons of his mind still bay for blood, scraping and clawing at his skull, driving his need to feed and indeed it would seem fate has delivered him an offering this day, a sacrifice of blood and bone to share with his black brother as the young, foolish mal leaps from above, teeth sinking into the thickened ruff and scared flesh that adorns his pelt. Such an action no longer brings him true pain, the flesh there so damaged it is but needles against a canvas already slashed as a roar of fury hisses from the hellish creatures lips. He is so much larger then this child, so much more skilled, so much more violent and it seems indeed the demons below have granted him a toy this day, a toy to be chewed upon, to make bend and break and bleed for his amusement and pleasure as his body curls like a vipar, aiming to sink his bloodied fangs into the exposed side of the male who grips his ruff, aiming to tear open his exposed left shoulder, to grip the flesh and violently rip Nootau from his own before her jerks himself back and away.

Yet this pause is only momentary, a breathe and nothing more before he lunges again with wicked and rabid fury, aiming to drive the young male back with sickened pleasure, aiming to force him against the rock and stone of the den, aiming to pin him against it and tear him apart piece by piece with Devlins own hunger fuelling the Demon Kings desire and need for the heated liquid that runs with his veins. One more he lunges, blackened claws slicing cute within the earth, his powerful, towering form aiming to collide with Nootau’s own and indeed should the young male be close to the den- to crush and slam him against the rocks and stones that make up the crags, to slice Nootau apart on blades of rock, teeth diving for his chest, to fixate his fangs within youthful flesh and violently shake his head, aiming to tear him apart. Children should not challenge Kings, true Kings. Victims do not survive his attacks, the insanity of his mind resulting in a bloodied berserker who simply attacks with increased fury again and again and again. He wins because he cannot be stopped, because he has near no self-preservation, because a wolf without a heart or soul….has only hunger to drive him- and he is hungry.