Qeya River i've been searching for the daughter of the devil

he watched with interested eyes, not sated by his latest attack. the memory of the hot blood cascading into his mouth, spilling from his lips to paint his chest with a gory fall of crimson -- of the wolf crying and struggling beneath him -- of the way her flesh split so easily beneath his jaws -- it caused his heartbeat to gain a measure of speed, his tongue to wet lips gone suddenly dry -- a tightening in his loins.

this one now, she left the bank in a lope, her strides confident, her gaze alert atop uplifted head. in silence shardul followed, his massive body treading lightly upon cushioned paws, the shadows touching down onto his argent pelt and swallowing it from view. 

the cat had gone fully mad now -- he lived only for the deaths of the jackals, and he followed. 

shardul awaited his moment.