Redsand Canyon Voice of Witchcraft

He can tell the shewolf is fighting for her life. She goes for his throat like a good girl. Just as he told her so. Fuck. Is all that runs through his mind, silently welcoming the feeling of her ripping his throat out. She thankfully doesn’t. Or maybe she tries to but doesn’t quite succeed. 

She does succeed in throwing him to the ground with all of her strength. His body slapping painfully into the rough desert floor. The red sand painted deeper than usual with their blood. His adrenaline is pumping and he wants blood, not death. 

So as his body flops, he pushes his muscles into overdrive to begin standing. The tough throw into the ground staggering him enough that he can only get a fleeting bite to the cheek of her pretty face. He embraces her next hit.