The Demon rampaged through the pack's borders without thought. He thirsted for blood and battle and the act of dominating others. It was all he knew. All he had ever known since the beginning. If any one wolf could best him in combat, then he would instantaneously bend his will to theirs - for as long as his mind could remain somewhat stable. He had been traveling for years, trying to find a pack who would take him - but none would because of his insanity. He was almost rabid with bloodlust and the bloodlust was a near-constant thing. It ate at him. He needed it. Craved it. Would go deeper into madness without it. He was not just a warrior at heart. No. He was a Destroyer. And he loved it. It kept him grounded, feeling the sting of wounds on his body, and delivering his own.

So he stood challengingly at the Creek and howled, chest out, tail high, ears erect. He would destroy or be destroyed. And if somehow, by grace of God, who had shunned him, someone within this pack was able to destroy him - K'ramo, Demon of the Dark, he would defend that wolf with his life... At least, until he decided he was bored and turned on them. Friend and foe alike were unsafe around the Beast, for he made no true friends or allies. All were competitors. All were enemies. All were to be dominated. All to be destroyed.

K'ramo spotted the tiny she-wolf coming long before she arrived, and his dark eyes narrowed. This was his challenger? This little... thing? Ha! He would ground her into the dirt and feast on her dead body! He growled low in his throat as she charged toward him like a bullet. She was quick and lithe and would be hard to catch, but he was sure he had more stamina than she did. He was a mountain to her, the wind. She could blow at him all she wanted to, but he would not yield. In the end, he would crush her and stand tall.

"Commmmme thennnnn," he rumbled. "Commmme annnnnd DIE!" He roared in her face as she neared him and continued roaring as she plowed into him. He had not moved. There would be no dodging. Only attacking and death. If she somehow beat him, it would be her puny right to end his life right then and there for being defeated by one so small. He would give her that. But if he won, he would take her and tear her to shreds for being stupid enough to challenge him. Either way, he would fight. And that was all he wanted.

So caught up was he in the beginnings of his fight with the little thing of a wolf, he did not even notice the second female that was now charging toward him. Not that it would have mattered either way. He would kill them both. Or they would kill him.