Fangs Bite

our fangs bite

Lord Shen had just become the enemy; hell, he wasn't even worthy of being an enemy anymore, not after what he had just done.

He was meat.

The wolfboss could still hear his heart beating in his ears dully-- thump, thump, th-thump-- and the sting in his chest was near impossible to try and ignore. He was lucky Shen knew nothing of wolves; thick pelt and tough skin kept the snowy white knives that were deceptively hidden beneath equally snowy feathers from penetrating his heart. The thick leather he wore over his chest kept the blades from skewering him completely.

Gritting his teeth and rumbling, the Alpha wolf pried each of the three long and very sharp blades from his chest. The blades cut the hand he'd gripped them with and left bleeding gashes on his front, all of which would scar. He had too many scars already to care about a few more, though.

Coming to his feet was the trickiest part, because blood loss and rage and fatigue from battle that he had been fighting made his balance atrocious. The world warped some once he finally made it onto his hind legs and paws. After several moments of trying and failing to regain balance, he settled for walking on four paws instead.

Slinking into the shadows with a hunter's grace, the wolf leader was on the prowl for his vengeance. Shen-- no, the meat-- was sure to have his sights set on the panda after the trash he pulled; he sacrificed tens of hundreds of wolves for one dumb panda.

Those were his brothers and step-brothers out there, thathad been killed, and his brothers in arms too; there were sisters and loved ones waiting for them at home who'd be devestated to know what came of them once Shen had had his way.

Shen had promised a diplomatic treaty with the wolves, claiming that he'd give the merchant outcasts fully assimilated-- and even important-- roles in society once he became emperor in exchange for their loyalty and services. Being one to know a great deal when he saw one, the Alpha led his pack into Central Asia and brought them under Shen's command. It was very clear to the Alpha now that Shen had never had the intention of following through on that agreement, and that he had been a fool to agree.

Suddenly, the sun on his shoulder burned.

The pack's demise fell on his shoulders.

There was no way he could go back; he couldn't face them. The Alpha of the West could not face his own pack after what he'd allowed Shen to do.

Not unless he avenged his brothers.

Amidst debris and dead, and looming masts with their sails half attached, finding shadows to hide in was not a problem. He leapt over some of his brethren torn apart by the shrapnel of Shen's "revolutionary" weapon and held back a snarl. "Revolutionary" his ass; the only thing the giant, metal, overglorified barrel was good for was taking meaningless lives and feeding a single brat's greed. The wolf boss had at least ten years on the fowl peacock, and that was being a little generous. He was old enough to have lived through a war and lost his left eye and two of his claws in one paw, and so he knew a brat when he saw one.

"Kill him!"

One would think people would learn that speaking of the devil was beckoning the devil; the meat his jaws ached to tear into was throwing another one of its tantrums. The stupid panda was, of course, still his primary objective and it seemed the overstuffed bear had no intention of going down without a fight.