It is one thing to kill for payment or glory. It is another to kill for survival. The murder game wasn't about fame or renown to Cuirass. It never was. He was one with the night, even with his dark russet coat and white mohawk. He had been taught from a young age to blend in even when it was impossible because the absence of a meal would be his consequence if he failed. He had to be quick but no one said he had to be painless. He didn't want Arace dead, just beaten enough to come without too much of a struggle. He was pretty sure Pine wanted her alive, after all. Otherwise he would have gladly dragged her corpse into the swamp. But as it were, he snuck up on her as if she were no more than his next blood bank to be drawn from. She was nothing more to him than a bonus on his last set of steals. The born killers were his main prize. Those like his sister and Flare.

Maybe she found honor in her contract killings. He saw only a waste of good flesh and blood. They would end life then leave it to drain out into the ground and let the corpse rot and be picked at by vultures. It sickened him, really. Eric had taught him not to waste a single drop of blood or an ounce of meat. Who knew when you would get your next meal? He was disgusted by the assassins and their games of who lives and who dies. That's why he was more than happy to bring in Arace with a few fresh marks on her pretty little coat. She seemed to be sleeping when he came up on her but she woke in a flash. He didn't even care to answer her question, not feeling it necessary when she would know in only a matter of moments when the cologne of the swamp hit her nostrils.

Then she came to life, lunging for his throat and going under him to come up for his muzzle at the last second. Smirking, he opened his own muzzle and angled it down while launching forward at an angle to throw her off her aim and set his up more. He felt her teeth scrape the thick fur of his jaw as he aimed to latch down on top of her head or ear where he would bite down and shake her like a rag doll before tossing her away so he could aim another lunge while she was recovering. She was in too far over her head thinking she could go up against a cannibal and win. He laughed even while they battled until finally he gained just enough of her submission to force her toward Iromar. He was almost disappointed that the fight had to end. He was having fun, after all.

Soon enough though he was herding her to the swamp, daring to nip at her heels the whole time, grinning at her as his blue eyes twinkled with humor. He hummed songs while they traveled, wanting to get under her skin before he presented her to Pine. He could care less for her limping, lunging at her back legs and flanks every chance he got to get her to speed it up a little. He knew her types. She would look at this situation like any killer caught in a net. There's always an escape door, even if you can't see it at first. She would be endlessly searching for it and trying to keep her dignity in the meantime. That just wouldn't do. As they crossed the borders of Iromar, he threw up his head, calling for Pine to meet them at his den. He didn't want to march Arace up to her den in case Pine didn't want her knowing where she slept and he would welcome the visit if Arace ever dared to come calling on his doorstep.

He continued humming the whole way through Iromar, a swagger in his step as his tail swished back and forth. He felt almost giddy after the battle, even with the new marks on his own skin from the times she'd managed to catch some flesh in her teeth. Pain only excited him in ways she couldn't imagine. Instead of weak and tired, he only felt energized and refreshed. This was what it's like to feel alive.