they'll never see another day

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For as many years as Reaver had poached the wolves of Moladion, he had learned to appreciate when a meal came easy. The thrill of the chase made his blood run hot, invigorating the beast almost like a drug, at the end of the day it had become more about sustenance than anything else. He was a feral creature who acted largely on instinct and not much else. He did not possess those things that made most wolves emote - empathy, love, guilt. He hunted to fill his belly and that of his chosen mate. His diet was an inbred thing, a basal craving that could not be denied. That his was a prey that tended to fight back at once made his existence more interesting, and sometimes more difficult. So while he did not feel the notion of gratitude for his offspring's assist in the hunt, he also did not shift focus to drive him off.

As the shewolf shuffled her legs beneath her, trying to pull free of the vice grip that Reaver had on the base of her throat, the second wolf struck. Finally thought managed to break through the panic and pain she was enduring, and her jaws snapped at the black and white mask of her first attacker. Self preservation caused Reaver to release momentarily, withdrawing just enough to save himself from losing an eye. The gaping wound at her throat began to pour blood freely now with no barricade embed within it, and the white's of her eyes became exposed as the loss of blood began to truly affect her. Shaddix's hold on her meant she wasn't going anywhere, a leg pulled from under her and her back end beginning to collapse beneath her even as Reaver struck once more. This time he went high, clamping down on her throat just below the crook of her jaw. Feeble clicking of her teeth could be heard, no whimpers allowed past the suffocation he was inflicting upon her. The shewolf's body convulsed against the strangulation, blood soaking the forest floor and spattering across her paws. Finally, the only movement of her body was from the push and pull of father and son crushing the last bit of life from her.

When her eyes rolled back, lifeless, Reaver released his hold and the dead wolf dropped to the ground in a heap at his paws. Now his poisonous green eyes turned upon his progeny, and his blood soaked lips peeled back as a guttural snarl boiled up from deep within. Reaver's pugnacious demeanor was quick to surface, his tongue coiling forward across his teeth as he warned the pup to relinquish his hold. Taking a step forward, he straddled the carcass and stood squarely to demonstrate his ownership of it. Reaver would eat first, and the other male would only be allowed to consume her flesh if and when the sire deemed it permissible.

A paw was lifted and set upon the side of the shewolf, lips still curled back and a growl continuing to rumble forth from the depths of hell as he plunged his fangs into her abdomen, setting to ripping her open so that he could consume the choice organs from within the cavity. But his eyes never left the form of Shaddix, ready to snap and fight him off if he did not leave well enough alone. He had fed the boy his first morsel of lupine flesh, and if he tried to steal his sire's meal, Reaver would make sure this was his last.

REAVER

SIXTEETN - 42 IN/216 LBS
ASTERAIA - TOBIAS x AALIYAH