Yes, that sounds found, a merry walk through the woods in the middle of the night.

I snorted, muttering at my own sarcasm as I pressed deeper into the undergrowth, following the trail of my wayward healer. How far had the silly girl decided to walk? Was there some reason she felt the need to go wandering away from the clearing in which the remnants of my pack lived? Of course, Zen was entitled to do as she pleased, by all technicality I was no longer her King and had no right to demand any form of obedience from her. However, as far as I am concerned I had been promoted from King of Trenus to King of New Moladion and as such i see no reason why I cannot at least ask her politely to remain in one place during the night- or tell me where she is going. She is not my child nor my mate, not even my imprint but that does not mean I do not care. Until the day she dies I will see her as my wolf and I do not appreciate what is mine wandering off in all directions at all hours of the night. So maybe I have become a little more possessive since the sky fell, so what? I had lost enough that day to force myself into fearing that kind of loss ever again. Thus I have become rather....obsessive about keeping my wolves where I can see them. Especially the ones I happen to like.

A wayward branch scratched at my muzzle, daring to undo the perfection of my pelt as I snarled in annoyance, dropping my head lower in an effort to avoid these un-godly branches. Had she decided to do a walking tour of the whole goddamn place?! I muttered in agitation once more, pressing on through the trees and darkness, keeping to the shadows as I did so. Old habits die hard and indeed I had learned earlier on that the white of my pelt glows like a ghost within the moonlight and retired assassin or not, I learnt long ago how to move unseen. Unheard was a little more difficult as branches seemed to decide continually to slap me in the head. I did not know this land well, the territory was unfamiliar and unexplored. I had not come this way before and yet the distant echo of voices brought my powerful form to a halt, one ear flicking forward to catch the sounds upon the air. One voice at least was very deep, often overcoming that of the other. There were at least two others lingering ahead, one surely male. I turned, having no desire to engage myself in a conversation with some idiotic loner. I had a wolf to find and I was doubtful anything making as much noise as that damn fool would have seen one to silent as Zen passing by.

I stepped forward, changing my direction once more until the obvious sounds of a brawl seeped through the trees, violet gaze peering into the darkness once more. Zen’s trail continued that way, light and soft yet there all the same. Surely she hadn’t gone towards two males in the dark? I broke into a steady lope, sliding on silent wings between the dark and night as voices filled the air once more, heckles lifting like white knives along my spine as I lowered my toned, hard form to the earth, sliding amongst the shadows, circling the clearing. An aggression like hot thorns simmered within my frame as the silver one spoke, his vile words only seeking to enrage me further as his snowy companion held down my healer, my wolf, my Zen. The Trenus words have always been Blood for Blood and I do not need to be within the grounds of a pack land to enforce such things, I am not Moladion’s greatest and most successful assassin because I am kind. They have spilled blood belonging to me and I will take their own as payment. I will not lose another of my pack. Angels may be prayed to and praised for there gentleness, for their kindness and compassion, but an Avenging Angel is something to be feared- they carry swords.

I made no sound upon the earth as I moved, waiting until the silver one had turned his attention to Zen once more as I slide from the shadows, rising up from the dark itself to propel my form in a rush of aggression and hate towards the white one, coming from behind, using his body to block my own emerging form from the silver male as my wicked white fangs aimed for his tail, the very base. Why? Because the tail is connected to the spine, because it is one of the most sensitive parts of the body, the most painful. Teeth aimed to tear into flesh, to shatter and crush the vertebrae and nerves between my fangs as they savagely gripped and tore before throwing my head to the right. After all, when ones tail is attacked, instinct demands he will turn, spin and hiss like a viper, aim to grab me. I am already prepared, waiting for him to turn, waiting for him to try and defend himself and expose the left side of his throat to the knives I call my fangs as I seek to slash his flesh and spill his life into a pool atop the earth. It should also give Zen a chance to get up, to get away. I may be retired, but I know how to destroy, I know how to cause pain doing it and indeed I aim to kill. I have no time for creatures such as these. What is mine is never to be touched. Angels defend their own.

I spun tearing away from the white male, springing over Zen’s body to land between her and the silvered one, leaving his companion to die or bleed into death or run. I hardly care, as heckles lift and lips peel back from my fangs once more, blood-stained saliva leaking onto the earth, the snarl within spilling from my lips to hiss and dance through the darkness. The snarl of an Alpha, a King against a defiler. Muscles coiled and released as if I prepared a sudden lunge at his left limb, yet the movement is a ruse, a fake, as I launch through the darkness, aiming to catch him unbalanced, aiming to have him seek to block an attack that will never come and expose the left side of his throat as fangs slice for the side of his neck, striking and dancing back as my weight is thrown against him, blunt claws scraping at his sides as I aimed for neck, shoulder and chest, exposing only my thick ruff to his own fangs, seeking to rip him apart piece by bloody piece.....

h e y e l
The King