Flycatcher Downs vi. defeat

have permission to pp

The beast snarled at nothing in particular as his massive paws crunched the snow. He had lost his prize, and now he was going to go get it, brother be damned. Pack be damned. 

The laceration on his side was dripping blood, his torn ear was throbbing and the cut on his neck made his snarl deeper. His hulking frame portrayed seething rage at this entire situation, and with each step, with each blood drop, it grew worse.

Then he spotted her and grinned. Rising his head into the cold air, his nostrils flared, picking up her scent. An odd grin settled on his face as he loped behind her. Her scent was different, and a spark of anger flamed in his eyes. Someone had gotten to her. She was his, and they would know it. He would show them as well as her. A growl rose from his lips as he lunged for her, roughly grabbing her scruff, pulling her to the ground. Forcing her into submission as he once again thrusted inside her. This was no pleasure show. His teeth bore into her scruff as he thrust, and he drove the point home again and again. He released and fell on her, his heart pounding, yet anger still burned in his eyes.

An idea struck him, an awful, twisted idea that made the flames burn bright and let an amused chuckle rumble in his throat. Turning quickly on her, he snarled. Get up. Now. He gestured with his head what he wanted and growled impatiently.