My blood is yours

The dark warrior stretched, smooth muscles shifting under his pelt of night. Things had gone well for him since he had joined the ranks of Blackfeather, very well. He was climbing the ranks, gaining scars and giving them. He had many names, names he knew he had been called by those who feared and respected him. His silver eyes shone with a flame that was hungry and proud, his pelt darker and smoother then the night. He was Crescendo, son of Shadow and Luna, of the pack Blackfeather woods. To him, life had truly only begun when he had first set foot in the beautiful forest, and the past was nothing. But there was something he had to do first, before he could continue his perfect life of nightmares and darkness.

A scent that he had been tracking for days finally grew stronger, then condensed into a single figure. Crescendo, even from afar, could see how the peppered fae picked her way painfully through the underbrush. "Tempest" he breathed, silver eyes hardening as they focused on the figure. His daughter. Flames of hatred shimmered in his cold eyes, and the fae turned, almost as if she could sense him there. He stiffened, but was confident in that he was downwind from the scrawny figure, and in the shadows. Once, he had been so happy to know that one of his own flesh walked these woods, but now he felt only pure anger and hatred. She, his own daughter, had turned on him and ran. His heart held nothing for her now.

Anger shroud his gaze, and the fear inspiring brute exploded from his hiding place. Tempest pivoted quickly, and her eyes widened in shock and fear. Her maw opened in a silent cry, and the living shadow, the silver-eyed murder, collided with the weary figure. Weakened from hunger and wounds sustained only weeks ago, Tempest crumpled under the weight of her father. Quick as a viper, Crescendo grabbed hold of her scruff and shook the smaller and lighter fae. She struggled, limbs thrashing. The sounds of pain and fear echoed through the clearing, but Crescendo heard nothing but a low whining sound that existed only inside himself. With a sickening thud, her head smashed against one of the boulders scattered throughout the clearing, and the broken fae lay limp in her fathers grasp.