So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
This thing inside of Underidge always knows where to lead him even though this far he had not been put to a test such as this. Yet to him it wasn't much of a test; he had always had a fine taste for violence. That had been evident even as a child at his disgust for things most considered benign and kind. It was apocryphal the things he believed in. He had not yet shared with his sister, his most devoted follower in life, the things that he thought. He had been gone for the better part of his childhood to learn more about himself. It was during this time away as he tread through land and water and mud and snow that he had seemingly disappeared into the midst of the unknown.
Time lapses without much recourse. The birds continue their song and the world thrives as he waits like a statue in the shadows. A squirrel scurries down the tree that he stands next to. It freezes the moment it realizes that there stands a wolf not an inch from it, silver eyes staring into the horrified ones. It makes a mad dash back up and he does not move; instead his attention has become riveted upon a small bundle that walks jaggedly. She is cream and white and clearly not healthy.
Slowly his lips peel back in disgust as the little girl drapes herself on the ground in her weakness. From this short distance he can hear the sound of her breath as she tries to breath through the snot that cloaks her nostrils. He almost wants to wait and see if she suffocates in it. That would be a pleasing sight, watching her struggle to breath, yet she'd need to shove something down her throat to complete that process.
A twinge in his stomach reminds him that he is there to not simply watch but to take what has been offered to him. This pack is weak. It has sheltered this whelp, protected it when it should have died by the rights of the fates. He was here merely to restore that balance and satisfy the dark thing that hungers within him.
Underidge does not bolt. He does not dash. He steps out from the shadows, his silvery figure emerging from nothing it feels like, and each step is measured as he stalks towards her with his head down. She might think he is a pack member. If she didn't, well, it wasn't like she could outpace him in her condition. So he heads straight for her with a neutral expression on his face but a hateful one in his eyes.
If she remains where she is Underidge will lash out at her the moment he gets to her; he will take his roughened claws and attempt to rake them down her side and then he will try to grab her behind the neck, lift her up, and shake her as viciously as he can. Then he will drop her and hopefully, by then, she will be dead, but he must be quick. Quick before the rabble in this pack descend upon him at her raucous cries, for one against a pack is no odds at all.
UNDERIDGE
TWO - MALE - NO HEART - OPHELIA'S SOUL
OF TAVIORA - ENDERLY X BANSHEE