Shielding the Beast (discontinued)

Three | Cyanide

Wind whistles in my ears from the speed at which I move across the land, deafening me from any other trivial sounds. My vision is but a chasm of the blurred greens and browns of the darkened forest rushing past.

My breathing comes out a hybrid of labored, rhythmic pants and subtle snarls with every running step forward. The scent strengthening, it's only a mere minute until my claws receive the pleasure of snaring him like lethal hooks and my canines ripping through him like metal shredders.

The retreating sight of dark grey, lupine haunches is my only focus; a hell-bent determination to drop that target with not the slightest lack of bloodshed.

Paws pounding on the cool earth, only a single leap lies between myself and the vast desire of the kill. My muscles prepare themselves for the lunge, ready to exert.

A snarl tears from my vocal cords as a heavily built entity plows into the side of my ribs, careening me from my path and ceasing the chase. The shattering of spinal bones against the solid trunk of a tree ignites my being in anguish. A pain like inflamed knives embedding themselves beneath my muscles and serrating my every nerve takes a claim over me.

Claws flay a portion of my shoulder in the heartbeat that I spend writhing in the torment of pain. Adrenaline works to cover up a partial piece of the agony blossoming from my spine.

Putting forth all of my anger and aggravation I push myself back to my paws, jarring my opponent off balance with my wounded, bloodied shoulder.

Lying pinned on its back under the restraint of my paws, a light grey colored wolf thrashes unavailingly beneath my weight.

His scent reveals to me that he is male, and of a certain ranking in a pack. He doesn't contain the arrogance to assert the position of Alpha, nor does he contain the pride and loyalty of a Beta. But Gamma, the role he fits perfectly. Underneath his shocked, icy blue eyes a calmness is preserved, a laid-back demeanor.

My neck bows in preparation to pierce his jugular and allow blood to fill his airway. Before I can succeed in my homicidal intentions a sharp, perforating pain shoots through my hip. The weak tingling sensation tells me exactly what it is that sticks into my flesh like a bee's stinger; a tranquilizer dart.

I disregard the fact of a potentially poisonous dart in my hindquarters with full knowledge that it would do little to nothing to affect my inhuman system.

The grey wolf takes advantage of my distraction, sliding out from under my hold. His canines rip at the fur on my neck, eventually finding their place around my throat.

He retains his leverage for only a second before his grasp is shook loose by my rapid thrashing. His mouth drops away, tan fur sticking to his teeth like feathers to a bird.

My claws scrape down the length of his snout in retaliation. Blood seeps into his eyes, acting as a blinding hindrance. His head shakes vehemently back and forth, vainly trying to reclaim his vision.

He makes the mistake of bowing his face toward the ground in an endeavor to extract the thick, red substance from his eyes. Seeing the chance, I jump on the opportunity quicker than a starving predator does its long awaited prey.

Obtaining a vice-grip on the scruff of his neck, his nose is smashed into the dirt with the force of a pile driver. My canines grind into his muscles in retribution for my agitation. Not yet using the full extent of my strength, I sentence him to suffering a gradual increase of power behind my incisors, pushing them deeper into his tissue.