Noctisardor Bypass all the other kids with the pumped up kicks

how weak they were. Gwen was the least capable leader she had come across, the rest that followed her mere sheep. she wanted to hurt them, to take the throne from the woman. that was to be her pack, her place, and no matter if it fell beneath her leadership. no, she merely wanted to see the sheep bleat. gaze narrowed, dark and hawkish, roamed the territory as she trotted the borders, thinking, schemeing. she turned inland, plotting still. it was obvious they didn't trust her. they weren't bold enough to confront her, but they did not promote her, did nothing. 

the tiny calls of infant somethings had her pause, gaze roving the trees. it came again, and she followed it, darkness still lurching in her gut. she was so tired of playing. 

she found the fox kits quickly. there were three, rolling about the entrance of a den. she watched them, and then she moved. the first she killed quickly, a mercy she offered without thought. the second, she grasped by the scruff, shaking the thing until it's terrified squeals cut off, and a snapping signalled its death. she dropped it, moving now towards the third, squalling and screaming it's terror. it bolted for the den, but she was quicker, her fangs caught a limb and crunched through bone. 

there was a darkness about her, an anger. she broke another limb, then another, until the thing couldn't rise, and it's crying was deafening. then she watched, revered in her power over the thing. but suddenly the amusement vanished, and with a frown, as if upset at the cub, she grasped one of the shattered limbs and smashed it against the earth, once, twice, until it's crying fell silent and she stood in the ruins of a litter.

He was on patrol as usual when he heard the squeals and petrified cries from what appeared to be a fox den. He had scented it the day before, but it seemed someone else had got to it first. The cries continued, and with narrowed eyes the man jogged toward the deafening sound, wondering what on earth was going on. Any sane wolf would have just killed the cubs and be done with it, for there was no need for the suffering. In this case, Mawk was slightly worried.

Upon arrival to the scene, the wolfdog's eyes focused on the dark figure first. It was Circe. He had not seen much of her recently, but it seemed she was still here. Next he looked around her, at the two limp, slightly bloodied bodies of the fox cubs. His gaze fell upon the third of the litter, the one that the Inferior was currently attacking. He saw that two of it's flailing limbs were broken. It was unable to move, crying out in fear, and Circe seemed to be amused. The dark raven smashed the limbs against the earth until the wailing stopped and the body ceased to move. How cruel was she, to end a mere baby's life like that? At the very least, she could have killed it swiftly and quickly, allowing for much less pain. What she had been doing was definitely counted as torture in his books. He cringed, stepping forward to meet the woman head on.

"That was unnecessary."

gaze turned to the newcomer. Mawk, she identified him quickly as. "I was hunting. The caches were a bit low." she offered, tone lacking the usual sweetness, but still friendly. she offered a little smile of greeting. nice act out of place with all the carnage around her. but she was hardly trying, not anymore. she knew all that she needed; Gwen was the saddest leader she had come across, the lot were a bunch of peace-loving sheep, and Illicebra incapable with her pups, the annoying little things that could be oh so useful if you managed to snag one. 

"Want one?"  she asked, shifting the one nearest to her with a paw. it twitched, and she offered it a frown, crushing in its skull with a deft blow from her forelimb. she offered a grin to Mawk, as if sharing a joke, and offered an "oops."

She smiled and greeted him, offering an explanation to her torment of the cubs, but it did nothing to soothe  the man's emotions. He continued to watch her, much like a hawk, as she continued to speak. The raven offered him one and he shook his head, but watched with disgust as the woman crushed the skull of a twitching corpse. "Respectable hunters do not kill their prey with such brutality." He frowned, flicking his tail. Any friendliness he may or may not have once had for her was now gone. She had not needed to kill the young like that, and her excuse did not convince him. The wolfdog had always been wary of Circe, especially after hearing about everyone elses suspicious about her, but this only confirmed his dislike for her. He would certainly let the others know.

She grinned like it had been funny, and his frown deepened. "I hardly see what is so amusing about this." She disturbed him greatly, and after taking another glance at her it was clear that, although clearly just a coincidence, her coat was not dissimilar from Kelina's. What was with dark wolves being so strange? Cry was an exception, clearly, for he obviously worked very hard, but most black-pelted wolves he met were just... not very... nice? What was up with that?

her grin was like a panther's, easy, calculating, echoing with endless mirth at the situation, mirth that seemed to have no place here. "Come, Mawk. Don't be so uptight" she offered, moving with a dangerous grace to her feet, so out of place for one who had pretended to be a clumsy, dumb, young girl for so long. but she was sick, simply so sick, of pretending. her ears flicked, the movement of her form as she settled on her paws was serpentine, dangerous. 

her frown came to echo his, and she offered a sigh. "You see, explaining a joke is like dissecting a frog. You can pick it apart to understand it, but by then, it'll be dead."  she offered a light shrug, fixing her umber gaze on him, dragging her gaze across him briefly, as if evaluating. she watched him still, muzzle wet with blood, forelimb splattered with it, and other questionable body bits. there was quiet arrogance in her stance, the submissive little thing she had been now gone.