Shy Deer Steppes the demons follow me

;____________________________________________;

The bloodied baby, for that was really what the little wolf was, shouted weakly against the onslaught. It was met with a shift of grip, releasing the little skull and snapping, instead, for a forelimb. This area could easily be broken and, with it, the pain and agony of never being a productive member of anything. It wouldn't be enough to just maim a paw as these could mend and renew, but poignant aim slipped upward for the joint at elbow and shoulder. A wound here would cause death or hardship until the little wolf took its last breath. Actions were stealthy and quiet, no growls tumbling from chest as the spider continued bludgeoning the kid.

Jaw pressure sought to break the limb — should attack come to fruition — not just mar skin, with a vehemency that did not quell at the mention of the boy's mother. Whoever that female was. Assumptions, of course, figured Lusa had birthed the brat but assumptions were not truths.