Ankyra Sound [m] burn it down

Sobeille's exclamation brought the fragments of another memory to his racing mind in the single beat before his teeth met the side of her face. The very sand that granted him an advantage filled his mouth along with the taste of satisfaction and Sobeille's salt. The corners of his lips turned up as a wild impulse swelled inside him.

Prior training told him what to expect. Her teeth would fly for the side of his throat, seeking purchase on vulnerable flesh. Predicting this, Ephraim snapped his neck down to avoid it, dragging teeth through flesh and fur. A brilliant flash of white shattered his vision as Sobeille's paw connected with the underside of his jaw in an unanticipated blow, strengthened further by his own momentum.

As intended, his teeth snapped apart and he reeled away. That alone saved him from Sobeille's next attack. Her teeth dug into the flesh of his brow and cheek a mere hair's breadth from slicing into sclera. Up close, she was much smaller than he expected from the way her gaze and stance commanded the space. It would have been easy to assume she was weak. The scariest wolves he had ever known had always been the smaller ones, though, and he was already learning this of her.

Ephraim tore away with a hissed oath, Sobeille's embedded teeth cutting a red swath across his face. Blood streamed from the deep lacerations and flooded his eye, blinding it. He paced to the side, circling, blinking rapidly and seeking another opening while the tables turned against him. Still he did not run, for the scent of blood mixing with the scent of her made for a potent cocktail that hooked his nose more strongly than the promise of the sea ever had.

Sometimes we are what we are. Ephraim licked blood from his lips and readied himself for her next attack. He was no longer tempted to run from fate. He could not underestimate her again. Sobeille was the grim reaper given flesh. Eventually, every man had to embrace his death, but Ephraim did not intend to make it easy.