Lust for the Crimson, Crave for the Ruby

Grim hadn't noticed the three wolves appear, nor did he hear them. He is too intently focused on this fight. Nothing else matters. His teeth are now sunk into the black wolf's shoulder. Wetness coats his tongue. He savors the taste. Fangs grind deeper into his opponent. Then there is a shift of movement. Pain sears his neck. A snarl drips from his muzzle. He jerks to the side, freeing the wolf's shoulder from his grip. Fear of death does not reach him. Only a need. Grim jumps up and twist to the side. Jaws reach for a limb. His aim is to crush bone. Lame his opponent. If he can manage that then he will play with this black wolf. He would dart in and out, leaving an open wound here and there. Maybe he would crush more bones. He wants to hear this male squeal with pain. He wants the murder marked wolf to fall and fear him. Grim is eager to watch the terror enter the gaze of this fighter. He is on the very edge of his sanity now, tipping over into darkness. Once he falls, nothing will be held back. Teeth will shred and tear at flesh. Claws will scratch and gorge large wounds. He won't toy with the male then. He won't wait to see the fear. He will simply make this wolf cease to exist.