Wolf RPG

The dark warrior stretched, smooth muscles shifting under his pelt of night. Things had gone well for him since he had joined the ranks of Blackfeather, very well. He was climbing the ranks, gaining scars and giving them. He had many names, names he knew he had been called by those who feared and respected him. His silver eyes shone with a flame that was hungry and proud, his pelt darker and smoother then the night. He was Crescendo, son of Shadow and Luna, of the pack Blackfeather woods. To him, life had truly only begun when he had first set foot in the beautiful forest, and the past was nothing. But there was something he had to do first, before he could continue his perfect life of nightmares and darkness.

A scent that he had been tracking for days finally grew stronger, then condensed into a single figure. Crescendo, even from afar, could see how the peppered fae picked her way painfully through the underbrush. "Tempest" he breathed, silver eyes hardening as they focused on the figure. His daughter. Flames of hatred shimmered in his cold eyes, and the fae turned, almost as if she could sense him there. He stiffened, but was confident in that he was downwind from the scrawny figure, and in the shadows. Once, he had been so happy to know that one of his own flesh walked these woods, but now he felt only pure anger and hatred. She, his own daughter, had turned on him and ran. His heart held nothing for her now.

Anger shroud his gaze, and the fear inspiring brute exploded from his hiding place. Tempest pivoted quickly, and her eyes widened in shock and fear. Her maw opened in a silent cry, and the living shadow, the silver-eyed murder, collided with the weary figure. Weakened from hunger and wounds sustained only weeks ago, Tempest crumpled under the weight of her father. Quick as a viper, Crescendo grabbed hold of her scruff and shook the smaller and lighter fae. She struggled, limbs thrashing. The sounds of pain and fear echoed through the clearing, but Crescendo heard nothing but a low whining sound that existed only inside himself. With a sickening thud, her head smashed against one of the boulders scattered throughout the clearing, and the broken fae lay limp in her fathers grasp.

Tempest awoke to pain. Terrible, horrible pain. She whined softly as the blurry world gradually came into focus, and was made aware of a heavy, crushing weight on her legs, and short bursts of pain in her shoulder. Her whole shoulder burned with pain, her head with a dull ache. Suddenly, she was aware that she was staring into the cold, silver eyes of...of...her father. The realization gripped her, rendered her speechless. He lay across her legs, all four of them, his huge weight rendering her helpless. She watched with wide eyes as his huge head came closer and closer to her shoulder, until she had to strain her head to look. He began to lap at a huge bloody mass on her grey shoulder, as if it were a stream. Every touch sent new pain burning through her shoulder. She tried to scream, but all that escaped her maw was a gurgling moan.

Immediately the black brute was inches away from her face, still crushing her legs. He began to lick her muzzle and face harshly, and then he spoke, a low rumble. "Be quiet, little princess. Almost finished."

His words sent a shiver up her spine, her eyes rolled with fear. "Almost finished wh-" her panicked thoughts were interrupted when pain blossomed along her stomach, rendering her suddenly immobile. She squeezed her eyes shut, a low moan escaping her again. Pain was all she felt, instinct and logic erased.

Crescendo showed no emotion as his claws dug into the soft flesh of his daughters stomach. With the final pain, she fell back, eyes glazed. He gazed for a second at her chest to make sure she was still alive before continuing with the bloody work. He lapped at the shallow cut, though shallow it bled a lot. Her sweet blood slid down his throat, and he groaned in pleasure. The hot thickness of it was wonderful. After a time, the bleeding slowed, then stopped. With a grunt, he picked himself up and stood over her head. He bent down and caressed his cheek with laps of his bloody tongue. The next half hour was spent licking every inch of her body, covering her in his scent. He marked her as his, though the scar would last much, much longer.

His daughter stirred, and feebly her eyes opened. He squatted on her head, pushing it into the ground. "Remember, in your last few hours, that you are mine. You have disappointed me, and your punishment shall be to die here in humiliation, alone." He caressed her cheek lightly with a claw, then turned and vanished into the hell he had come from. She was alone.

Tempest lay, prone, for a night and a day. pain slowly faded into a dull ache, but terror increased, and every rustling of the underbrush was a wolf, coming to finish her off. Why had she ever left Redhawk Caldera? Tears grew at the corner of her eyes, and she let them fall. But on the dawn of that day, the last tear fell and she stood. Shakily, but stood. The rush of a creek led her north, and she stumbled and fell many times. But she was stubborn, and some hour later arrived at a creek, wide and clear. Collapsing on the banks of the rushing sliver of water, she allowed the water to rush over her. Blood was swept away, but most importantly her fathers stench. Her wounds stung as the cold water touched them, but after a while the river began to dull the pain.

As the dusk grew heavy, she stood and looked down into the swirling currents. Reflected in them, was Tempest, outlined by the orange sunset. She turned slowly, allowing her shoulder to be in full view. Carved into it, carved by her own father's claws, was a winding scar. Deep and bloody, she strained to see it but the blood didn't allow for a better look. It, of all the wounds, hurt the most. The cut on her stomach was shallow, it would heal quickly. But this...this would remain, haunt her of that terrible day.