AND WE'LL NEVER BE ROYALS
IT DON'T RUN IN OUR BLOOD
THAT KIND OF LUXE JUST AIN'T FOR US

In her travels through the lands of Moladion, she had never felt truly alone. Perhaps it was because scents of other wolves that she constantly passed. She saw a few Angels around, but the vast majority of other candids were nothing more than vagabonds and of no significant bloodline as far as she could tell. Were the populations of Angels and Demons so diminished here that it's why Mother was recalled to Hell? Were they not significant enough to abolish? It was a question that Hepzibah had no answer to. All she could do was return to Iromar and try desperately resurrect their reputation, their life. She was busy surveying her birthlands, and when she turned her head to listen to the low growls behind her. There was a rush of fur, a snapping of teeth and Hepzibah felt the teeth hold her ruff as if she was a child and push her into the mud. Snarling at the indignity of such an attack, as soon as she was released she sprang up to her feet.

It was at that moment that Astaroth decided to appear.

The bright golden eyes looked at the massive two year old that she played with as a pup and when she had a future set out for herself. An ear flicks towards Hausis as she snarls, her voice harsh on the ears. A challenge? Hepzibah would gladly prove herself to this haggard wolf. She has little time to answer the witch at this time, but she dashes to intercept his battering ram techniques. The pink of her gums exposed to warn him off. She cries out as if it's a warcry into the fray of battle, her adrenaline pumping, her anger present, "SHE'S MINE." She snaps towards him, not really aiming to actually connect with him just to warn him off. After the display of ownership, the muddy creature turns towards Hausis with a measured focus. She would show this hair-brained older witch just what mettle she was made from.

She circles the other, responding to her challenge. In the small battles she had with her brothers she had learned to keep moving, never giving them a stationary target to hit. "I'll show you who the rat is.." A snarled promise that just gave a hint of the ivory fangs that resided into her mouth and had yet to be tested by flesh of wolf. As a two year old, she was around a hundred pounds of muscle and bone, though it was clear by her build that she was far from done growing. Though fierce, Hepzibah had not had a lot of instruction in fighting, other than learning from her failures with her brothers. She supposed that her parents would of taken over such endeavors but since they were long gone, Hepzibah was on her own. She would learn, or she would be killed and if the stubborn creature had any say in it--she would learn. As she rounds the side of Hausis, she dives forward with her mouth opening at the last moment to try and catch a hind leg in her mouth and snap it. Or at least lacerate tendons and muscle. Wolves were most effective as four legged creatures and she had every intention of making Hausis three-legged.

Her mind drifts to the lesson Lillith had given them as children, she had dragged a dead carcass out of the loner lands and discussed what made the wolf weak. Why was he weak? What had made him fall so easily to Lillith's jaws? It had come down to blood, it had come down to pack. Hepzibah, though wayward as of late, was still pack. She was still Demon. She would take down this old wolf and then present the body to Andras and Lillith. It was as simple as that.

WE CRAVE A DIFFERENT KIND OF BUZZ