<font color=430000 face=georgia size=1>YOU SHALL KNOW ME BY THE TRAIL OF BLOOD</font>

It would have been the epitome of idiocy, an intellectual folly, for it to be assumed that he had not kept a careful eye poised upon Harridan. It was an axiomatic truth that, though the winter months had seen them separated, the monolithic beast had continued to lurk� so often eclipsing her dainty paw prints with behemoth ones of his own. It was not, in truth, for any benefit of Harridan�s that he acted as some morbid shadow, curling so deftly into the pervading dark as to remain somewhat shrouded from her admittedly astute eyes. Her womb was a conduit for the delivery of his offspring, the living embodiment of what was only to be a small portion of his continued legacy. And so it was purely instinctual that he should ensure their survival until such a time that they should be deemed worth the effort� or otherwise disposable. He was ruthless in all things, and so the imminent birth of his progeny proved no different.

The hulking beast lingers in particularly close proximity to his would-be mate this day, evidence of her pheromones hanging heavily in the air, curling into his nostrils and brushing tantalizingly against his olfactory. Today more than any day before, their utmost vigilance was required, for soon the telltale aroma of lifeblood would overtake the subtle ambiance of the woodland they now found themselves in, a proverbial dinner bell for whatever wayward predatory might find itself in their immediate company. And though Abraxus found himself entirely unperturbed by the prospect of an unwanted audience to Harridan�s birthing, the tangible threat posed to his offspring was considered decidedly unacceptable. Let come what may, he would certainly be prepared� as he always was.

With calculated precision to every footfall, Abraxus saunters in the direction of the den he knew Harridan to be in, the metallic smog of blood evident with every inhalation he stole. It was done. He lingers for a drawing few moments at the den�s darkened mouth, his single functioning eye rolling about deftly in its socket, a silent surveyor of the land which surrounded them. And then, with a grace hardly befitting his generous heft, the behemoth slithers his way into her den, entertaining no thought to what resistance she might pose towards him. He would never meet her defiance with fear or anger� instead, he welcomed it. Let her attempt to keep him from this� let her attempt to keep him from them, these pups that bore his genes. Silence heralds his arrival, his brutish frame momentarily eclipsing what light siphoned through the den�s gaping maw, casting the individuals within in the murk of his lengthy shadow. The yellowed orb of his eye travels pointedly over Harridan, the blood caked into the mud below her, matting her fur into a million infinitesimal spires, tattered ears perking slightly as infantile whimpering echoes throughout the constricted space. Without hesitation Abraxus lowers his monstrously malformed skull, flicking aside Harridan�s tail with no more effort than if he were swatting an insect and trailing his stripped and scarred nose over each tiny body in turn, his exhalations scattering dust in a plume about them. He lingers in dangerous proximity to the helpless newborns, nudging one and then the other in a motion that could almost have been described as curious, before withdrawing entirely.

Only then does he turn to Harridan, a gruesome simper pulling grossly at his knotted flesh. �Survive they shall. May the fates have mercy upon whosoever should attempt to hinder them.�

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