Luneshale Pass pantano

that he had grabbed her around the back of the neck made everything that followed more bearable for khusobek, which was to say that the captain of the guard made quick peace with death upon recognizing that his hold could keep true even after.

agony blossomed in every facet of his figure and his limbs trembled with it. but for every lash of the demon's quick head, his own jaws closed more and more tightly around the red wolf.

she twisted harshly in his teeth, tearing one lip, but still he held. even as skin began to lift from muscle and muscle from bone, the crocodile held.

welterings of crimson poured along shoulders, mouth, shoulder; he shut his eyes. a violent weakness threatened the stability of four legs but he clenched tighter, tighter, tighter; he descended harshly on top of the woman, throwing his weight forward to pin her beneath him even as he sought to bite through her very spine, head sawing each time the man latched to his own body did the same.

once before he had heard how flesh ripped from bone. now it was in him, it was in all of him, and the fight against his own screaming as juddering wet muscle lay exposed to sun and teeth — only the mouthful of enemy occupying his jaws stopped that strangled sound from becoming more.

haze; misted; hatshepsuun's beautiful face rising in hallucination. how odd. even as the dog's-head of death began to take form in shadow, khusobek saw how hatshepsuun remained a jewel: brilliant but with no warmth.

no hope of warmth now. coldness ate slowly at his forepaws first.

dimly khusobek registered meseba, and in a moment of last renewal, he snarled a cough of mocking laughter into the blood-hue of the other's nape.

Sekhmet! Mistress of Dread! receive my blood!