There was something so alluring about Death. All around us the Circle of Life is everywhere with the promise that every living soul will one day come to an end. Though how one will meet their Maker is completely up to the individual. Prey will always perish under agonizing pain. However, the predator can truly be the one to decide just how they will go. Some would rather die on a field of glory, bringing others down there with them causing much pain to others before they meet Death. Others do everything they possibly can for longevity and succumb to the plague of frailty and old age. Neither pathway to meet Death was such a glorious thing. Yet others did not see Death as something to appreciate. Ever since she was a little girl destined to become a thing most feared and hated she had one friend within this cruel and heartless world. Death took pity on her. Death provided her meal after meal, teaching her various techniques to take the life from another, to be not a minion but an apprentice. While her pack left her alone, to die, to rid themselves of a damnation pup Death had taken her under his cold clutches and allowed her to grow into the epitome of her packs’ nightmares. It was only a matter of time before she would become something to be remembered here…and just like her choice in how she wished to see Death – she would get to choose, but what she would choose well…that was all up to her.

One massive paw would hold down on the back of her badger as her sharp ivories began to chomp down hard on the bones. The sensation of the bones breaking in her jaws was such a comforting thing to hear. The taste of flesh seemed to satisfy her aching stomach. That grey soaked banner swayed side to side along the ground as she tore a piece of meat from the carcass. Her half torn ear twitched when she picked up the sound of something rustling in the bushes behind her. A threatening lowered snarl rumbled at the back of her throat as her neck turned around, bloodstained lips pulled back tightly. Those deep intense eyes narrowed on the snow-white coated male that had dared to come from behind. Another warning growl intensified as she slowly got up and turned to face him with the badger left in the dirt. It was foolish to walk before a lone wolf, especially one that was in the middle of its meal. Even though his frame was carried in a non-threatening manner to her he was nothing and it did not matter how he presented himself. He was a pack wolf, he was male, and above all else he could not be trusted. No one could be trusted. Tick Tock didn’t establish a bond or an understanding of trust with anyone in her long life and perhaps she never would. Shaking her head a definitive snort escaped her nostrils as her cold drawl crept out from her scarred muzzle.

“I do not belong to this pack…or any other pack.”

It was a statement. It was matter of fact. Most importantly it was the truth. She did not belong to anyone. She was a free wolf, a puntar that had yet to be claimed by anyone. Yet who would look upon her with desire? All along her carcass there were faded jagged scars all over, old healed wounds, each flawed mark carrying with it the struggle she had endured. A fighter that was what she was and no one could take that away from her. Always she fought be it with her own species or with other apex predators. She was not one to be trifled with and she gladly took any challenge. Death was an old friend and Death was not ready to let his prodigy leave this world just yet. Her mind caught on to one particular word that interested her. Heyel. That was the name of the elderly white wolf she had protected from a mountain lion that attempted to take his and sons’ life. The only reason why she got herself involved wasn’t necessarily to protect the two lupine, but it was mostly to immerse herself with action. That particular day she was bored and in need of something to do. She remembered that wolf warning her to not speak of that day and tell the truth and yet already many wolves knew of her and her actions. In fact there was another thing he told her not to do…he was severely furious that someone not of Angelic bloodline knew to speak such a fragile language. Easily her cold tone sounded smooth as molasses as she spoke in a tongue that all Angels should know.

“Alius filius Heyel.”
“Another son of Heyel.”

Her sinister mauled face turned to the side to reveal the deep claw marks that ruined the other side of her face. The gift the feline had given her before he died within her jaws. The badger below was forgotten. Her stomach not acing for its meat. Rather she was far more interested in something else. It had been seasons since she actually had a conversation. The last conversation she had was when her imprint died. No more did part of her soul be with a weaker sniveling coward. Her whelp was still alive and yet that did not bring her any kind of comfort. Her muzzle would twitch and the unusual cool winds brought his scent towards her and she caught such a very small trace of Ravens’ scent on him. So…her child remained alive. Well isn’t that very interesting. Perhaps this male provided some use after all. With a sharp flick of her tail behind her, the monster took a curious step forward as her skull tilted again not minding at all the sunlight as it hit her ghastly façade.

“Did he tell you that I saved him and his son from a mountain lion?” His daughter was most pleased while he seemed frustrated. Do you carry this nasty sin of Pride as well?”

So…Ferfox wasn’t expecting an intelligent conversation? Well she could speak and think she wasn’t quite sure if he could do the same. After all he seemed to have something wrong with his throat…perhaps a sign of weakness. In the Circle of Life the strong were to destroy the weak…