wrath

Nah, you were great! You could probably reply once more? If you want to spree still, you're welcome to any of my other characters. :)

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Kierkegaard was mildly surprised at the feeling of flesh beneath his fangs and the blood that spattered against his muzzle and chin, turning his pale ashen coat to a gristly maroon. Even the tossing of his paws had managed to strike the pale stranger enough to stagger him for a clear shot at escape. The ghost had caused enough damage to the sad glacier wolf. He doubted that his hock would survive much more struggle. Having received a few gashes of his own, Kierke jumped from the frigid creek water and landed with a stagger on the bank. Shaking his ragged pelt, the smoky monster turned his head over his shoulder with one last ghastly expression in regards to the pack wolf and huffed heavily in the autumn air.
The Sairensu wolf could feel a sharp pain against his shoulder and the persistent sting of a gash that had been landed on his flank. Nonetheless, he had managed to dart away without further injury to his hock, and had created an opening for himself to make the long drive home. The ashen monster’s eyes faded away from the glacier wolf and Kierkegaard turned his back to the scene he had been a part of only moments prior. Shaking his pelt free of the clinging droplets, Kierke quickly fled the scene to return home. The pale stranger would be nothing but an afterthought in the days that followed.