She had an imprint. That one phrase ringed over and over in his mind; it fractured then reassembled only to shatter again. His mind struggling to make sense of the one thing that he never thought might happen to him, which might change the course of his life now and forever. Imprints usually held strong bonds for it was essentially two beings sharing one soul. And apparently they could feel what the other was feeling…this…this is what he was struggling to come to terms with. This and the fact that she wanted him near her, she had all but ordered him down, to sit by and wait like a lap dog while he tended to her wounds and he had…listened. He had bit back the snarling black cloud of rage that bubbled within him, had tamed his ire for but the moment yet now…now he roamed. Now he chased down every little creature just to lay waste to it, just to feel the flavor of its blood upon his tongue. Each one held the color of Meryl, owned his scent, and stared out at him with Meryl’s eyes. Yes, stoic and still was those eyes as he watched the life drain away, as he lapped up the blood before leaving it to rot beneath the sun and moon.

So deep was his rage that he did not even let anyone know that he had left the mountain, and for the life of him he could not see the point. She was well cared for by her trio of healers, Meryl, that damn runt never leaving her side and as thus he could not be near. Her command still ringing within his head…he could not harm him. He could not tear into him for touching her, for gazing upon her as if the sun rose and set upon her. And then there was she, she brought him into their home, invited him in and thus started all of this. She brought the devil into their bed so to speak then forbade him to react, how did she expect this to end well?

Eyes flicker as they gleam with the madness that pound within his veins, the blood of his ancestors filling him and bading him to find retribution, to seek a release for the mounting emotion that clogs his throat. She was the one he had chosen, she was the one who held some power over him, yet she felt the need to bring him in. To share her pain with him, to display him in front Leo like it was such a simple matter. Perhaps to any other wolf it was a simple matter but for one so volatile, one who saw things in black and white no matter the episodes of clarity and rational thought…it was a complete recipe for disaster. Then there was the thought that perhaps she truly preferred him, preferred the darker boy’s presence over his and if that was the truth then he really had no reason to stay. He saw no reason to lie outside her den, eyes narrowed as they glared into the gloomy darkness as the scent of Meryl pulled and teased him. Saw no point to swallow the snarl each time he followed her only to scent Meryl when he drew aside her. Several times now he had approached her den, only to turn away before he was swept away by the intense tide of emotions. Several times now he had caught himself stalking Meryl, eyes holding the purest form of deadly intent, only to turn away before he destroyed what he had built his life upon…her.

It was unhealthy at best but now…now it was insanity.

A low sound is given and instantly he is upon the trail, body low to the earth as he follows the scent, mind failing to recognize the scent as wolf. Several minutes is given before he leaps, his paws outstretched as his jaws latch onto the rump of the wolf. Together they tumble, a mass of red wolf and the multihued form of his own as they fight for dominance. Yet to him he only sees the flecked bodice of Meryl, only scents the herbal scent of the bastard as he gazes upon his Dragon, his voice as he speaks to her. To him, this wolf was Meryl as have all his victims had been up until this point but unlike them this is the first wolf he has targeted.

Slowly they cease to roll, the raging inferno that is Leo finding its way ontop as he snarls into the face of the red wolf, saliva dripping from his fangs down into the face of his opponent. The amber eyed male growls back, writing beneath Leo as he places one paw onto the red wolf’s neck, pressing down with his bulk as he stares. He tries to find what it is that Fate deemed acceptable to be linked to his Dragon. He is weak, a long legged fawn amongst wolves he craves nothing more than to deform him, to take his tail and ears, and to render him blind. HE will come again and again, an unstoppable force until he takes everything from him, his ultimate goal the delicate tissue of his nose. Perhaps if he ravaged that enough the boy will lose the ability to scent, then maybe after another battle he could target the eyes so that he could not see. What good is a medicine wolf who can not see nor scent his quarry?

”You should have never came.”

His voice is ragged as he lowers his jaws, not even hearing the wolf’s confused pleas. He sought nothing but death and freedom from the demon that rides his back.