Wheeling Gull Isle stranded

The scream did not deter him. Instead, the pale beast seemed to delight in the fright that radiated from the sandy-colored woman. Surely, the keeper would be pleased that he had found someone so full of spirit and energy. The fire that coursed through her veins was enough. She lunged at him, aiming a wild snap of her fangs at the side of his neck. She was successful in finding a small purchase there, but not enough to keep a hold. It was just enough to tear into his tender flesh and send a spurt of dark red across his pale coat. She shook her head and tore again, but the ravishing of his own mortal body was not a concern of his. Smokestep had faced far worse in his time away from the wilds.
 
With a deathly wheeze from the back of his throat, the pirate aimed to snap his teeth against her muzzle. His intention was to close her mouth – to keep it shut – so that he could prepare to send her to the keeper. The blood from the gash that she had created leaked down his neck and stained his pale cloak in the deepest of reds. Somehow, he did not seem to care.