Stavanger Bay take what you can, give nothin' back!

He knew better than to throw himself upon the border of a foreign pack, to the mercy of whoever came upon him. He knew better than to drag Yami along with him on this foolish little quest of his — trying to prove he was too irresponsible to be a father, too young, too busy living it up to go back to Rusalka. Trying to prove, above all else, he didn't belong there with the family he'd started to build. It was more like every choice he'd made in haste and terror had led him to this moment - this bad decision - and he couldn't stop.

Then, there was the hit. Firefly knew it was coming (and maybe wanted the familiar feeling of fighitng to the death back in his life, to some extent); in the fringes of his vision where the shadows did not dominate, there was the grimace of teeth; a skull-face; the feral chorus of both wolves as they danced and snarled and fought.

Something cracked him in the head and he swayed and careened away, so close to falling to the earth, to the mercy of those teeth. The snarling did not pause but for an instant there was peace in Firefly's ears - a rising note of high-pitched whine that got louder and louder until there was the absence, the silence. 



Then all he saw was black. All he felt was rage. He lunged in retaliation even though the world was a mess of blur around him, aiming to bowl the man over and tear him to pieces if need be; loosing a roar within the silence as he brandished his teeth.