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I can feel his eyes watching me as I contemplate my next move. It felt like forever that I pondered on what I should do. Should I follow his commands and attack the vulnerable girl who's only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or should. I deny him this and meet the same fate as the victim before me? It's not really a hard choice to make when you want to survive. It's my life or hers, and my life is more important, at least in my opinion. And so I choose my next attack and I know automatically what it will be. Her screams drive me mad. They make me want to bang my head against a tree or run myself into a flooded river. Anything to get away from the screams. And so since I can't do this, I choose to make them stop instead. I know that the attack will harm me as well. I know that my muzzle will not escape harm and if I'm not fast enough, I'll be serving my own face up on a platter for the damage I've allowed to happen to her. And yet I risk it, all to make the screaming stop. I reach in, feeling her fangs instantly crash down on my muzzle. I feel her bottom canines puncture my bottom jaw as her top canines grind against the bone of my muzzle. It's painful, enough to bring tears to my eyes and I have to hold back a cry of my own. I don't want to seem weak, not right now. And so I focus. I blur out the pain as best I can and I focus on the tongue. And when I feel it between my teeth, I clamp down with everything I've got and I pull hard. When it finally comes out in my jaws, I taste victory and it's a wonderful thing. I know that I have accomplished what I set out to do and I hope the white wolf will approve. And yet when I meet his eyes, I see only an odd curiosity there that wasn't there before. He seems to be watching me with a new light in his eyes, one that I don't understand. I hesitate, but only a moment, not enough to really tell. I don't want to hesitate in front of him. That could spell my own demise. Remembering what he did with her flesh, I repeat the gesture, swallowing her tongue. It tastes strange, but not really disgusting. Certainly not something I can advertise at dinner parties though. Not that I'll ever get invited to any. And yet he's still watching me, even long enough to let the girl escape. She takes one look at his far off gaze and takes off and while I make a move to grab her, stepping forward for a lunge, I snap on air and she's gone, tearing off with death on her heels. I can see the trail of blood clearly, both from her battered face and missing tongue and like Anselm, I know that she won't make it far. She's bleeding far too much. I look to him, wondering why he let her go but instead he asks something in a different language. I scowl, ears flickering with uncertainty as I look at him expectantly. Surely he can speak something besides that because it's not the universal wolf language and it's definitely not nahuatl. Finally he speaks a language I can understand but he says it slowly and with certain distaste in his voice, like the very gesture of it rolling off his tongue sickens him. I watch this with curiosity but keep my thoughts to myself as he reaches out. I tense automatically, feeling the rough nudge of his bloody muzzle on my shoulder as he commands me to take him. Take him where? He must mean Taviora. I blink at him a few times before nodding. Turning on my heels, I start trotting toward Taviora. I didn't want to walk and make him impatient since he doesn't seem the patient type and I didn't want to run and make it seem like I'm running away from him. He certainly doesn't need a reason to chase me down like prey. I don't want to be the next victim. And so I keep going until I see the Taviora lines. We are both still bloody from the kill and that does occur to me. I certainly don't want my parents to see me like this so I'm kind of hoping I can slip way to wash up at some point on this journey. Dexter male.two years old.35', 145lbs.born to MothxCoszcotl.sibling to Amoxtli&Zeltzin.unable to bind.mated to none.father to none.tied to Taviora |