Blackfeather Woods Wrong turn

Nemesis growled as she sunk her teeth deeper into the hybrid's flesh, letting out a "Shut up!" through gritted teeth. Nothing on earth would pry her away from her victory, no pleads and cries would reach her ears. Her heart was as black as midnight with no remorse to be found. One could try but never succeed in scrubbing of the blackened hate that surrounded her soul. All efforts to revive herself had died out a long while ago and no improvement to be made. 

Nearing Wolfscull, she could smell the scent of dried blood in the area. No doubt, the blood of all the captives Blackfeather had harboured over the years. No wolf was currently kept there, from what she knew. Better for me, she thought wickedly. The mutt was still whimpering as she pulled him into the cave. It was a dank place, as if a thousand screams had left the place broken and haunted. Bones laid strewn around the cave, in particular, assorted fauna bones. It was it's own grave. Finding a small alcove, big enough for the hybrid but still cramped, she tossed him in. The cave was big enough to muffle the sound of any screams or cries for help. 

Smirking gleefully in her own malicious way, she looked down on him with pure maleficence in her eyes.  If it were possible, her eyes would be glowing red with fury. Maybe it was because she seen a bit of her past self in the boy, the weak, defenseless, innocent girl who had grown up too soon and too quickly. And that part had to be crushed.