Her squealing cries of fear and baby yelps are ignored as he moves to seize her scruff, grasping her as any adult grasps a child until she dangles so vulnerably from those darkened jaws that have slaughtered so many. Instinct refuses to allow him to close his jaws more firmly, to toss her to the earth and pin her beneath one massive paw if only to open her innards and feed upon them. She is protected by chance and fate alone and perhaps this day shall be the most fortunate of all her days to follow. He simply continues to cling to her, darkened form gliding smoothly along the earth as that hardened frame is pressed forward into a gliding lope that sees him move as gracefully as if his obsidian form possesses the wings of a darkened angel- for he is surely more perfect then an Angel has ever been, darker than any demon can ever claim. His paws are silent in their journey, form sweeping upon the earth like the embrace of night itself, even the blood from her injured paw is ignored though his mind is ever aware of it, that sweet and heated liquid that dribbles and runs so freely to be wasted upon the thirsty earth when his own throat cries and calls for such. He can scent it, very near taste it, body reacting instinctively to the presence of his desired food so very close as jowls begin to salivate in response and leak drool down onto the unfortunate child- mind and instinct very near at war within himself.

Those whom smell of milk belong to She of Red and White, this has learned, this he believes and as such his wretched, fractured mind has come to understand that all such small ones must surely belong to she and he in turn. This one has simply escaped and as such will be returned. Darkened paws guide him lower and lower still, the hulking creature stepping down and into a lower area upon the fields where rocks gather together to form a den of sorts, the den of She of Red and White, the den he shares in the nights he is given to rest beside her and not plunder the earth that surrounds in search of the vile weakness he must remove. His shadowy form passes easily into the den, empty now, for She is out, Small Dark and Small White with her though the den reeks of their combined scents as his own nostrils wrinkle in discord.

The unfortunate girl child is released from his jaws, dumped onto the bedding of straw and earth and fur as his own muscular form is lowered to the earth- blocking the entrance and exit in this single motion, refusing to allow the child free once more. She of Red and White will be pleased, yes, yes, for he has brought her another Small One, one they surely they own as they own all others- his mind incapable of this understanding of blood and parentage. That dark head comes to rest upon his paws, emerald eyes fixated upon the child before him now, any attempt by the girl to move towards the exit met with a sharpened, hissing snarl.

“No.”

It is all he offers, a single, rasping word purred from within his throat, determined to keep the girl where he desires she be kept until his mate returns to claim it as those ever-cold eyes simply return to rest upon her, staring, unblinking, cold in their focus so entirely unaware of the discomfort he is sure to bring the girl