Firestone Hot Springs the tidal wave breaks

He feels as mad as the old man who's name he stole. Manic. Each stride brings him closer. Fear and rage leading the male onwards, dodging through trees and blinking blazing red eyes free of water. His jaws continue to snap, a thunderclap behind the traitorous woman who flees to spread information of his whereabouts.

Perhaps it is foolish, for she could be leading him to them. But he cannot risk it, cannot allow her another breath.

Fangs finally grasp what he seeks, grasping around her tail as the spy tumbles forward. The momentum enough that his hold is brief, though he does try to inflict any damage that could be done.

»You have destroyed my home! How much more must you take from me to be satisfied?!« The splotched male screams in his mother tongue, having not spoken even a whisper of the language since he entered these lands before.

Yet, she twists to face him, to charge at him and take him on face-to-face. Not a simple spy then. An assassin. Mercer will not bow down.

He charges forward, attempting to slam his chest to hers in a flurry of rain, teeth and blood. Her jaws slide across his cheek, slicing through fur and skin.