Blackfeather Woods No one can save me from myself

His fangs clipped flesh, and a small of blood painted his muzzle. Again, she spoke, and the boy in a small way thought at its meaning, but the fact that she did not run, did not fight, resonated as being wrong, being weak. And those that were weak, he knew, were hunted.

then his siblings. his sister, arrogant and certainly bitchy, and yet with her own kind of badass. His pale ghost of a brother, certainly special, and one who saw others. Seldom did he get along with half of them, yet now, with them by his side, he felt oddly thrilled. And then, his muzzle twisted into a smile as he beheld his siblings. Brief eye contact was made with Astrid, a silent invitation issued.

Words need not be spoken as once again he lurched forward, fangs searching for a grip on the woman's neck once more, and this time, should he be successful, he would not let go as keep easily. And with his siblings by his side, the odds had tipped generously in their favor.