Horizon Ridge above the clouds of pompeii

They carried on for some time in a verbal battle of the titans. Marlowe lifted his chin to lengthen his vocal cords that ran down the thick sinew of his neck, his baying and bellows rolling into one another and becoming louder, louder, ever louder. They were cries of frustration and petulance, unable to accept the fact this his child perished, under his watch. His harem trusted him to protect them, and in turn they gave him the most valuable asset imaginable: life. Now, that life was lost in order to sustain the true evils of their world.

The hellhound answered Marlowes cries with his own, snapping and clipping the air with its fangs. What else did the creature have to prove? He had taken one of their own, Marlowe's future - did he want more by further antognizing him? In some ways Marlowe was envious of these fanged animals who could plot and deceive. They had stealth, whereas the elk had none. The blood, the fear... that he could do without. But they had so much ability and freedom, qualities the dark-furred wild thing possessed and easily used against them...They used it for evil, which was a power that Marlowe could hardly fathom.

After those interminable moments, the wolf begun to tug to corpse away. Good. It was now over. Marlowe deeply inhaled and released his breath in a sharp snort, then turned away to rejoin his harem. In a short time they would forget, but for now it weighed heavy on his heart.