The Sentinels forge me a blade

Blood splashed into his mouth. Warm. Salty. Metallic.
He relished it.
The desire enough drove him forward again when, in truth, he should retreat. Quickly. He launched a snap towards the shoulder of the other, hoping to get a good hold before shaking his head and pulling clumps from the man.

He fought for Aure, fought for his willingness to see her again. To feel her fur through the winter. The snowflake that didn't bite with cold. The thought stirred something in him again; fueled by the blood, the adrenaline. His desires. His downfalls.
His uprising.
His teeth locked into flesh, so he tore at it. Snarling and growling. A bear over a carcass. He scrabbled to hold. To hold a relentless attack that would send all who saw him trembling from the stories.
He could keep Aure to himself if it happened.

Before long, he was panting. Maw stained crimson. Blood falling. Gushing.
He collapsed and descended into the darkness where he belonged.