I look up, sensing another close by. Her perfume washes over me, another female. A warning growl rips through my chest again but it is soft, a whispering, a silent warning because I don't like to warn anyone of their impending doom. I recognize the scent as she gets closer. It's the shadow who was stalking my prize, the one who sought something that I had marked as my own. I tense up, ready to fight her for the right even though my part is done. I have done what I sought to do. I have ended the midnight colored female. She breathes her last breath, sucking in one last gurgle of blood as it spills from her charcoal stained lips. Now I can focus on the next prize. Her scent is one I will never forget, a tangle of death and chaos, an obsession for the wasted and rotting. This is not something I'm used to coming across, one so familiar with Death. It's quite refreshing, but that doesn't mean that I'm happy she was tracking my prize.

My coat is a landscape of silver and gray,white patches running through it like blood splatters of purity, a purity that I don't possess. My cheeks are whited out, making me seem like a saint, a virgin mary with a gray and silver cloak. My eyes are the only true mirrors of what I am. One eye is a pit of red encircled by black as it spreads outward. The other eye is a reflection of opposites, a black abyss surrounded by blood red rims. They are the eyes ofa demon, the demon that I truly am. I am a horseman of the apocalypse, I am Death. My brothers were the other horseman. They were Famine, Conquest, and War. Ankou is Famine, the only brother left. Cyric and Helios are gone. I live to kill alone now, though with Ankou at my side, we would be unstoppable. I stand now over my first kill in Moladian, New Moladian because I was too young to do it before. I sought to that day when I told Asa to sacrifice Orca to the alligators in the swamp, but he turned his back on me and chose to protect her. Hyperion told me he was my brother but Hyperion lied. Asa will never be a brother of mine. Only fitting that he's gone now too.

The girl steps out of the shadows, her pelt a lovely cream mixture with a golden saddle upon her back. Her legs are midnight black, as if she's trying to change color but it's not happening fast enough. She looks at me without fear. In fact, her eyes seem to hold more envy than anything. She looks down at her paws, thoughtful and silent. She tilts her head one way and then the next, something that could be considered creepy to any other wolf but myself. She inspects me and the dead wolf at my paws. I lick my lips, tilting my own head now, eyes gleaming with daring. What will she do now? If she runs, I will chase her down and kill her too. I have already decided. If she stands her ground, I will see if she is worthy to stay alive. I must make that decision for everyone I meet. She smells of a pack, one of the newer ones, Iromar. Of course, all the packs are new because they're only just opened for the outside world. I have already studied them, all of them, but I haven't decided if I want to be a part of that life or not. I was in Hyperion's pack from birth because I had no choice. Now that I have a choice, I will take my time deciding.

I look up as the girl speaks, telling me that she wished the girl dead and that she wants her eyes. Arching a brow up, I look down at the black wolf, noting that her eyes are pink in color. Interesting but I feel like my own eyes are far superior. I look back at the girl.

"What will you do for them?"

I tilt my head again, watching her intently.

D A E M O N