Noctisardor Bypass Will you chase the burning sun in to the sea.

No, not fine. Glaukos' simmering gaze pressed close, the feel of his fangs along Anselm's crawling flesh.

He wants me to beg, Anselm realized. His fur rippled with disgust. He'd come here to help Etienne, who was helping Heda and Druid. He'd brought Fiona to Rivenwood, and hunted for them all. For all he'd done, he was treated like the dirt beneath their feet.

Not fine, indeed. Anselm flung forward with a sudden heave, shoving the brute and his rancid breath backwards. As Glaukos regained his footing, the tracker lunged for his throat. There was a sinister squelch as Anselm's fangs pierced subcutaneous tissue down into the stiff fascia of the windpipe -- a gurgle as the behemoth's mouth filled with a wellspring of lifeblood that seeped between his lips in red bubbles.

Anselm stepped back, shaking as he watched blood pour from the shocked mouth of the Den Father.

What have I done?

Glaukos' throat worked, but no noise came out save the flood of merlot staining his chest. His dark paws splattered in red.

Yes, sir. Anselm blinked, transported back into reality where he was still captive between Glaukos' teeth. His shoulderblades dug into the dirt. Glaukos held him firmly in the pinestraw. Somewhere above, a bluejay sent harsh trills into the wildwood.

Yes, sir. Anselm's jaws clicked shut in contempt, a wicked anger made incubus in his belly.