Noctisardor Bypass all the other kids with the pumped up kicks

how weak they were. Gwen was the least capable leader she had come across, the rest that followed her mere sheep. she wanted to hurt them, to take the throne from the woman. that was to be her pack, her place, and no matter if it fell beneath her leadership. no, she merely wanted to see the sheep bleat. gaze narrowed, dark and hawkish, roamed the territory as she trotted the borders, thinking, schemeing. she turned inland, plotting still. it was obvious they didn't trust her. they weren't bold enough to confront her, but they did not promote her, did nothing. 

the tiny calls of infant somethings had her pause, gaze roving the trees. it came again, and she followed it, darkness still lurching in her gut. she was so tired of playing. 

she found the fox kits quickly. there were three, rolling about the entrance of a den. she watched them, and then she moved. the first she killed quickly, a mercy she offered without thought. the second, she grasped by the scruff, shaking the thing until it's terrified squeals cut off, and a snapping signalled its death. she dropped it, moving now towards the third, squalling and screaming it's terror. it bolted for the den, but she was quicker, her fangs caught a limb and crunched through bone. 

there was a darkness about her, an anger. she broke another limb, then another, until the thing couldn't rise, and it's crying was deafening. then she watched, revered in her power over the thing. but suddenly the amusement vanished, and with a frown, as if upset at the cub, she grasped one of the shattered limbs and smashed it against the earth, once, twice, until it's crying fell silent and she stood in the ruins of a litter.