The Sentinels forge me a blade

The storm-spider wandered through the trees. Padded over some felled, others groaning high above him. He limped, right leg feeble in his movements. That bitch had done this.
He was going to have her, claim her. Practice on carving her body artistically and watching her stain the robin-water red. Like he would with his snowflake. The girl he truly wanted to hear.
To feel. To have straining beneath the weight of his desires--
He was drooling.
Licking the fat globs from his maw, he cast his gaze about, seeking to rest his tired legs.

His pale gaze caught on the white plumage, a tendril of sound drifting to him.
Weaving through the frigid morning air to greet his ears and signaled the awaking of another.
He grunted softly and moved quickly towards the form.
He sought to interrogate about Aure.
His messenger had not returned to him. She would pay the debt soon.
He chuffed low, not yet menacing. Hiding the real intentions of his approach. He held his tail neutrally but still had his head high. His milky gaze sought the stranger.
"Aure. Where is she?" He demanded without ceremony. Looking down his nose at the wolf with a withering amount of disgust. Like some rotting fungi spoiling a perfect plant.
"You will tell me." His voice guttered, rasping softly like sandpaper just starting to smooth a woodworkers creation.
He'd keep his control; for now.