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Crashing through the underbrush he charges his victim, he who would inevitably fall to the power of his jaws and the magnitude of his tank-like form this night. Jaws agape the immense wolf descended upon he of age and a sooty pelt. The final stride brought him face to face with his quarry as eyes of icey blue and sickening green turn upon him. It does not deter the beast, though, and his jaws flash forward as they collide chest to chest, each seeking purchase in the other’s flesh. Like a steel trap Reaver’s jaws snap closed, daggers sinking into the neck of his meal with incredible force. The dull pain of his own injury is ignored as the prey fights back, teeth scraping the surface of his shoulder as they plummet through dense fur. With his fangs hopefully delved deep within the flesh of the wolf’s neck his thickly muscled upper body suddenly and forcefully rips backwards, hoping to rend flesh and cause a massive bleed.
A single ear flicked to the side at the sound of another’s approach, but Reaver only gives him a sideways glance and a snarl as he releases whatever flesh he might have pulled away from its bodily form. As the strange black wolf who infringed upon his hunt sunk his teeth into the shoulder of the older male, a green eye rolled back and glared menacingly at him. Reaver was not put off, though something about that eye seemed almost familiar, like he was staring closely at the striations of green in his eyes reflected back at him in the bay of Asteraia. The thought is pushed aside, sickened as he usually was by this god forsaken land that somehow anchored him here. Instead, he focused on the task at hand. He would bring down this meal.
To Reaver, this wolf’s attempts to shake them off were feeble. His immense proportions stuck to the prey like glue, never giving him space. For a moment amusement is almost found in the situation, the struggle to survive was useless, but it did make things a bit more interesting. The lighter weight of the secondary attacker might allow him to be pushed away momentarily, but some deep seeded instinct within the colossal male told him it such space would barely last. But as the prey turned to strike at him, Reaver’s thick neck flashed forward, jaws snapping in an attempt to grasp the throat of the temporarily engaged wolf. He flung his closest leg up and over the back of his meal, blunt claws digging in wherever he could get a hold, and actively pulling him into his chest. If he’d succeeded in wrapping his jaws around some point of the wolf’s throat, he would clamp down forcefully. And if luck was on his side and he was able to trap the wolf in a deathly hug – standing sturdy on three legs – then his assistant in this hunt could easily tear at abdomen or flank or hindquarter…or anywhere. Deep teal eyes striated through with green identical to the other black wolf’s sought the gaze of the other as he gripped whatever he held and twisted, hoping to force his prey into an awkward position. It would not be long before the white of Reaver’s chest was washed in warm crimson and his belly would be full once more.
REAVER