April 22, 2015, 05:33 PM
(I do plan on using this thread to kill a trespasser)
It was here in the layer of blood on the floor of the woods, that Grim had met Bane. Golden amber eyes scan the blanket of red flowers that cover the distance in front of him. It has been a while since he came here. His mind springs back to the memory of relishing in the scene. Bane had mocked him for it. Lips rise to bear teeth. The Redgrove was not a fond memory for him. When he had come back to the pack he had discovered that quite a few had left. He is glad that the white male was one of them, but unfortunately Bane had also left behind memories. This place and his pup. White wolves do not belong in the dark woods of Blackfeather. They are light in the black. A vision of Bane's white pup lying dead in the sea of flowers fills Grim's mind. These flowers would represent her death. Of her life seeping into the ground.
A large paw steps into the field. The tree's are thinner here. Eyes search the area for wolves. He is alone. Grim pauses out in the middle of the blood flowers. He sits. Bodies of white wolves begin to pile around him in a vision. He feels the thick warmth of blood flow over his paws. One live snow wolf stands across from him, blue eyes bright. Grim stands, teeth snapping together. A growl settles deep in his chest. Full grown, Potema stands before him. Kill, the voices cry. Destroy, they command. His large body lunges forward. The white wolf jumps forward to meet him. They collide in a fury of teeth and claw. Grim's fangs sink deep into Potema's shoulder, he hears her yelp. Claws rake across his face. He enjoys the pain, it excites him. Releasing her shoulder he goes for the paw that had scratched him. The white wolf jumps back, escaping his reach. He watches her begin to circle him. He waits until she is to the left of him before darting forward to wrap his jaws around her neck. She cries out, struggling to get away from him. Grim bites down hard. Something snaps in his mouth. Potema goes limp. He lets the body drop onto the ground. Her blood becomes the flowers. Grim grins, a wicked and evil grin. Golden eyes wild, he laughs.
The vision slowly fades away. He is left alone in the field of blood flowers, breathing heavy from his imaginary fight. Grim scowls at the ground. He needs his fix. Lately he has been sparing with his little killer, Lusa. But that is not enough for him. He needs to spill blood. Eyes darkening, he sits back down. Without Lusa, he is back to his old self. But without her, he is lost. Grim wonders if he should go to her now. She is the ice to his fire. She would settle the darkness and his need. But no. The need is too great now. He has to do something. Drops of drool drip from his tongue as he stands. He will go to the boarder and search for a wolf to kill. He cannot touch the wolves of this pack. Or can you? the voices question. Murder , they say. His mind turns over the thought. But that can't happen. He would lose his place here. You would lose her, the light adds in. He snarls at it, brushing it off.
He will find someone to kill.