Noctisardor Bypass p[r]imavaera

Wylla’s teeth closed on Val’s nose. She tightened her grip and prepared to tear them down his face and snap again when he kindly went ahead and did it for her, shrieking and rearing like an ill-tempered stallion in his bid for freedom. Wylla parted her jaws in a flash of crimson and lunged for him again, aiming to use his frenzy against him to get ahold of his neck. His teeth sliced her cheek. She ignored the bloom of pain there.

Only there were also wasp stings in her flank, more insistent, that made her spin, wild-eyed, and aim that snap at Stryx instead. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Wylla knew this was a losing battle. It didn’t matter that both these wolves seemed like ninnies who hardly knew how to fight at all — despite her advantage in that department, she was still outnumbered. Even ninnies could use a numbers advantage. No amount of experience in battle could overcome numbers when it was just you.

She felt a flash of rage for Rivenwood’s inaction, for Mahler’s absence here, for every wolf who lived in these walls but cowered when called to defend them. Fuck them all! She would fight this battle alone if needbe! Seizing her adrenaline with both hands, Wylla shoved away from Val and went for Stryx again, her voice roaring out between her teeth with every clap of her jaws as she sought to tear at the healer’s face.