Bearclaw Valley violent disposition

brutality in the most primal form. visceral, rage-filled—gods, she'd never known such rage could infect someone like that. in that moment, her rose-tinted vision of cole was divided. one on side, was the caring, protective man that made her fawn. and on the other, he was a harbinger of death, destruction. 

it frightened her. but it also made her want him more. his bloodlust was terrifying, but his dedication to keeping her safe was reverence. 

their numbers dwindled in a matter of seconds. one left to lay still in the snow, with another shortly to join it, it's body mangled beneath cole's weight. the carnage makes her breath hitch. 

when their eyes met for a brief moment, she was swallowed by the anger and concern that danced within cole's. she pouted, her ears pinned back against her sleek skull. how could she of been so stupid, so careless? he had every right to be upset with her...

and then the violence continues. in a beat of her fragile heart, another coyote is fallen. with another beat, comes another death. he was efficient and quick; calculated and unrelenting. in that moment, she can't help but wonder; were the coyotes the monsters, or was he?

there's so much blood. the pristine snow now coated in it, stained like glass with sanguine. it makes her stomach churn, the scent of metal and death. her chest heaves, and the nausea is overwhelming. 

and then as fast as the battle started, it was over. so many limp bodies circling cole like a twisted sigil. she was frozen for a while in shock, in fear, in awe. until her paws carry her toward him in auto-pilot, and she crashed into his barreled chest and sobbed. 

her limbs ached and burned where they'd torn through flesh, but she couldn't feel anything. "i—i'm sorry," she hiccuped, her form shuddering with each cry, her face hidden and buried in his bloodied fur. 

he may be a monster, but more importantly, he was her savior.