Moonspear Scorpio rising

Like a beacon, gesturing to him invitingly, the peak of the mountain reached up into the air and summoned him. Through the rising mist of dawn he meandered his way through the glen, feeling the first touch of dawn warm his charcoal withers. Within moments, the aroma of urine caused him to grimace and flick his tongue over his teeth as he bared them; a claimed territory? Treacherous betrayal, heart-wrenching. Guttural thunder rippled from his lips, as he dared cross the threshold. He'd caught what he'd thought was the trail he needed to pursue, though diluted with the mist and in his derision, he willed himself to believe something that was not reality. It was little more than a nightmare that he willed into being. He pursued.

Ravenous, he slithered up the slope, maw agape as he inhaled the scents of a variety of wolves. He knew this mission, this goal, and how it would end- but so long as he acheived his goal first, he would sleep peacefully. 

When he caught sight of her, she appeared different than she did in his memory- her fur shorter, more chocolate than charcoal though with the sun splitting the clouds the way it did, a crimson hue was splashed across the mountainside. It was a trick of the light. Fixated on his target, Fallstag snarled, whipping his tail from side to side a few times before he bolted- aiming to crash their worlds together once more- and to bring hers to an abrupt end.

"So, just making sure, you've never been on a night patrol, right?" Osiris asked @Leta as they picked their way down the mountainside. Once she confirmed whether or not she had, he continued his preface with a nod. "Alright, well, it's been a while since I've been on one—so we'll get used to it together." Osiris figured that the night-watch would be a good place to begin Leta's training. The nights at Moonspear were often quiet and would allow them to build up her patrolling confidence. 

They had been oblivious of the lingering threat—the comfort of their home had created a false sense of security. Osiris had been distracted by his company and their crimson-washed surroundings; he couldn't remember the last time the sunset had been so vibrant. To Osiris, it seemed like the perfect setting for Leta's first lesson, as it was picturesque as she was—which was ironic, given what laid ahead for them. 

Fallstaff had managed to make his way up the mountain, and Osiris became aware of his presence once he began to bolt forward with a snarl; instinct overcame him, convincing him to protect what was his. The change in Osiris demeanour was like day and night—his previous compsure giving way to a bestial glare. It took very little time for Osiris to trace the intruder's trajectory, and even less time to jump into action and push Leta out of the way. Once she was safe, he vaulted towards the intruder with unveiled fangs, aiming towards Fallstaff's chest.

Osiris could only see red—both figuratively and literally— and he would do what was needed to expel Moonspear's current threat.

Leta patrolled with him, admitting, never, in a soft breath. Her daytime patrols had also been limited. Now and then Leta had done so, to be helpful... but thankfully she had never been met with anything that meant she had to act. While she was glad for that, it also made her feel out of her element. Her experiences paled in comparison to his, or anyone here, when it came to fighting. Leta hardly knew the bare minimum, but fortunately she had the basics down (she thought, anyway). Applying them? She had never needed to. But she knew them. 

The approaching nightfall was beautiful. Normally she could appreciate such a thing, but her focus was split on her own woes. The mountain terrain was hard on her paws, soft and used to the gentle give of dirt and grass. Her feet ached, and sometimes she fell a bit behind to sniff at the earth to intentionally give them a bit of a break. And her muscles, they had never been so tested before. Her hazel eyes lifted to see Osiris up ahead; the sight of him heartened her, and she jauntily moved in his direction—

She hardly noticed the wolf coming toward her. And she definitely did not notice when Osiris was suddenly right next to her. It was only the Ostrega that connected with her, and she was but a dandelion seedling being blown in the wind. The drifting was far more rough as she was pushed out of the way, an oof expelled from her lungs. 

No one had told her how fast things like this all happened. Because now, he was not next to her. In the blink of an eye, he was going for the stranger, and Leta stood frozen and helpless for a very long second. 

Seconds are meant to be quick, and in her experience, they usually were... like just then, for example. But as she watched, Leta saw how slow it could be, too. Nothing had yet connected, between the two of them, and Leta was just standing there, thinking all this: 

Wh—oh!—whatdoIdo?—Ican'tdoanything—Iwillgetintheway—Imafraid—yelloweyes,yellowteeeth—Osiris!—bebrave—

Be brave!

She had come here to be brave. 

And Osiris! No—

Leta did not think, not really, because these things that flashed through her mind were feelings, not true full-fledged thoughts. Iamafraid—crouch against the earth, melt, be invisible—Osiris!—stand, ears press forward—bebrave—fight...

Be brave! FIGHT—

Standing, more falling forward than lunging, Leta released a snarl that was more scream than anything else. GO AWAY! She willed with the sound, GO AWAY! Do not hurt Osiris, do not come any closer to him, to me, even as she became closer to him. 

As Osiris went for the chest, Leta drove toward a shoulder. For all of her lessons in self defense, she applied only the instinctive desire to look after her throat. That was it, though, and she was not aware of it as she moved. Inexperience was likely more than evident, but it certainly did not make her any less passionate. She had come here to be brave. 

Her aunts voice rang in her ear. Be brave, came again—and she swore she could hear @Nanook say it again.

Alongside his sweet, dark shadow was another wolf, which he realized too late. There was a softness and gentleness about her posture as she roamed along with him that enraged Fallstag terribly. Already she'd found another? And while he rose to meet the charging male first, it was not without knocking his former beloved aside. And while Fallstag intended to inflict misery upon her himself, it enraged him to see someone else step in and joust with her, even more when he realized that the agouti male moved in a protective manner. 

His momentum made it impossible for him to maneuver around the forest-eyed scout, and so he slammed into the young warrior, fencing with sharp canines as the other snapped his jaws repeatedly into the fur and scarred flesh of his chest. He nearly wretched in the pain- those wounds had hardly had time to heal- and screeched furiously as he reached to grasp the younger male by the scruff and tear him away, side-stepping to relieve himself from the guardian's grasp- which was when he felt the rake of fangs across his shoulder. 

She would. 

Her eyes flashed in the crimson light of dawn- but he didn't notice how the hue had been altered...How it wasn't the same as he'd remembered. He was drawn into the savagery of battle and fell upon his chosen target with yawning jaws, which closed down upon the side of her neck, hooking his upper canines into the soft spot just below the back of her skull and with a heaving jerk, he whipped his head to the side, aiming to snap her neck and make her crumple to the ground. He'd wanted to kill her more slowly- but faced with two opponents, he couldn't afford the luxury of time. He sniggered when he saw her drop- and now all he had to do was get away. He whirled, snapped at the agouti male- and began to dash down the perilous landscape, but having grown up on the open prairies, he was unaccustomed to the loose ground and ill-equipped to maintain his balance while he barrelled down the slope, sending a small volley of rocks and shale to come loose under his feet with every step.

The opposing forces collied into each other, their strength and savagery matched. While in the proximity of the other male's chest, he tore and scratched what scarred skin he could to harm the intruder severely. As Fallstag snapped into Osiris' scruff, the young Delta relinquished his onslaught to grimace in pain. While distracted, he gave his opponent the chance to toss him aside like a ragdoll—an oversight of the young and unexperienced Delta. While he had been hyper-focused, Osiris had also failed to realize that Leta had joined in on the fight. 

He landed heavily with an oof, and although he felt as though the air was nearly forced out of him, he managed to struggle to a stand. Once on all-fours, Osiris faced the current situation: Leta laying limply on the ground, forced out of the fight (and this life) with a snap of Fallstag's jaws. She laid on the ground, unmoving, and he was quick to assume the inevitable; here one moment, gone the next, Leta's short life had abruptly ended. Dumbstruck, he watched for a moment, as an overwhelming concentration of passion and vengeance began to consume him. As the sickly feeling spread throughout his being, Osiris' nape-fur stood on end and his saliva-slick jowls fluctuated as he released a thundering snarl. Nothing mattered now that she was gone—he would do everything in his power to get revenge. 

Fallstag would die for this; now, Osiris was really seeing red. 

He was poised to strike when Fallstag clicked his jaws and whirled 'round to run in the opposite direction. He gave chase, trailing after Fallstag at first—he felt no pain, as adrenaline pumped through his body. It did not take long for him to catch up. Using the advantage of his upbringing, Osiris was able to navigate down the mountain nimbly. Once alongside Fallstag, he forced himself upon the other wolf, intending to shove him onto the ground and pin him.

Leta tasted blood. 

Did she like it? Detest it? 

The shock of it, and the shock of the question, were distracting enough for her to not even realize all that came next. 

It was quick. But she hadn't even the mind to think through it. Only feel. 

Pain. Just for a second, though. Fallstag was then falling away—oh wait, no, that was her?

And then, as her eyes rolled, Osiris, and as she exhaled, tried to work her tongue to say his name, blackness stole from her the rest.

Having accomplished his mission, Fallstag thought he might have felt more satisfied; but the sturdy yearling protecting her had been unexpected. He'd wanted to tear into her with his words, to make her feel as though she'd had everything stripped of her, the way she'd caused his own downfall- but he'd had to improvise. Perhaps if he just stole a glimpse back to see how she looked, the little ragdoll, lying on the mountain's edge-

But something larger and fiercer obscured his vision, and sent his world spinning when he was hit with the force of a jackhammer. Fallstag lost his footing and tumbled over and over, bouncing off a legde and scrambling to try and right himself as he slid down a patch of loose shale. How the fuck had the yearling caught up with him so fast? Fallstag barely had time to right himself when he realized that those emerald eyes and snapping fangs were at his heel again. All Fallstag could do was attempt to side-step at the last moment, hoping the young man's momentum would cause him to drift past just enough for Fallstag to avoid being slammed again, and lunged in to try and shove his bulk against the young man's shoulder, grabbing for his scruff, shoulders or back- anywhere- so that he could get the upper hand again.

Fallstag's side-step had worked as intended, causing Osiris to skirt a few strides past his intended target; it had happened too quickly for him to react in time. Once he realized what had happened and regained control of his momentum, Osiris whipped around in time to feel Fallstag's teeth dig into his nape. He winced in pain, unable to deny the strength of his opponent—if he didn't act quickly, the severity of his injuries would increase tenfold.

Willing every ounce of strength he had, Osiris forced himself upward, bucking like a wild mustang as he attempted to displace Fallstag.

Fallstag gripped the yearling's thick, heavy hackles in his jaws, but with any creature, there was little he could to do inflict damage that might hinder him from making another move. He might injure Osiris' shoulder muscles a bit with such a bite, but it wasn't the same as drawing a large amount of blood, or injuring one of his bucking legs. If he could do something like that, it'd slow down the vigour of his opponent who seemed to have become so much more dangerous now that his ire had been fuelled. 

He couldn't hang on- with each buck, he felt the strain on his jaws and eventually he let go- and dropped, snapping at the front legs the male had planted- but at the last second, the shale beneath one of his own front feet gave away, and he fell heavily to one shoulder.

Osiris successfully ejected Fallstag, and he felt a rush of confidence as he watched his opponent tumble to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, while pushing through the pain that radiated from his throbbing shoulder, Osiris rushed forwards with a ferocious growl. 

He approached Fallstag with his head low, aiming to slam into the lifted shoulder and force his opponent onto his back.

shit-

Something hard hit him in the shoulder and while he tried to tense his stomach muscles and keep himself on his side, he was inevitable shifted onto his spine. Now, knowing he was vulnerable and with little means of protecting himself, he yowled viciously, snapped, and flailed his feet to try and keep the male from getting too close, kicking out wildly with his hind feet to try and push the male away from him and keep him from pinning him down. "Mercy!" He cried, "Please, mercy!" He said, as he tried to shield his throat with his lowered muzzle.

The pain was temporary, for now. 

The blackness seemed to linger, even when she opened her eyes, until she could make out shapes. Shapes, then sounds too. The fight, it was still happening. She could not lift her head to look, but her eyes searched, and her head was propped up upon a rock. Mercy. That was what she heard. But it was not what she thought as she stared at the man who had struck her down. Revulsion, fear, the sound of her heart hammering against her chest. Be brave, was what she thought, her eyes upon Osiris now. Braver than she could ever be, then.

"Mercy!" Fallstag begged once he had fallen, doing everything in his power to keep his adversary at bay, "Please, mercy!" 

Osiris did not reply; there was very little that would deter him now. He circled his opponent clock-wise, seeking an opportunity to make a significant blow. Fallstag's flailing was sufficient enough, and his neck was protected for now. Osiris knew that something had to give for him to be successful. After a brief pause in contemplation, he had a plan: aim forFallstag's nape and prompt him to expose his throat. 

Osiris sprang forward without warning, his jaws aiming towards his opponent's neckline. If successful, he would dig his fangs into his mark and pull with all of his might.

"Please," He spluttered as he watched the male circle around him. He didn't fear for his life- though he kept his forelegs tightened to his chest and chin down as per his training. Though there was a deadly seriousness in those gemstone eyes, there was a youthfulnes to his face as well that Fallstag thought might hint at a softer side. Compassion. Naivety. "She dun it- she ruined me, she-" He said, beginning to attempt an explanation, as though blaming the female for his own actions might serve to clear his name- but as soon as he tilted his chin back in indignance, he was struck. 

He felt the tight clench of jaws at his jugular and his eyes rolled back to reveal bloodshot whites. He kicked and struggled, working his jaws uselessly, making nothing but a muted gurgle against his opponent's grip.

I would say that it would be a good time for @Hydra to join!

 
They were past the point of no return. Osiris had struck with deadly aim, and intended to finish what he had started, and Fallstag's gurgles and withering acted as motivation. He would do everything in his power to silence the fool that had decided to tresspass and kill Leta. 

The familiar—yet distinctly different—taste of blood soon filled his mouth, prompting Osiris to sink deeper into his strike. Steadying himself, he placed a forepaw against Fallstag's shoulder and tugged with all of his might. Finish him— his inner monolouge commanded, —now. Osiris would not shy away from the passion that gripped him; this man had taken a light from his life (or so he thought), and now he aimed to do the same—it was only fair, in his mind's eye.

Sorry- gotta get a post in or he'll get swept :)

There wasn't anything left for the miser to do and his clambouring paws slowed as his oxygen supply dwindled and cut off. His one gleaming eye stared straight out into nothingness as the recognition slid from its focus, though the look of panic remained on his face as he slipped from consciousness and into the unknown, mouth still open in a silent cry for mercy that would never be answered or heard.

Fights were not slow things, Hydra knew. And yet as her eyes fell upon the scene before her, she felt time defy her. Slow, she felt time move at a sluggish clip as Leta was brought down. It seemed to still entirely as Fallstag's fangs pressed upon her sons flesh, and Hydra released a strangled noise that sounded a far cry from savage as she witnessed it. Far, I'm too far— she realized.

She grimaced as she pressed on regardless, helpless, knowing even now it was out of her hands, denying it despite that—believing if she ran harder, she might make it, she might be able to save him if this bastard got the upper hand! Even as she came closer, she was still so damnably far away—

KILL HIM! KILL HIM FIRST! She willed, no words able to be formed by her tongue, and yet, could he? Would he? Her boy, her sweet Osiris, with a gaze that felt like the warmth of Summer—did he have the unforgiving bite of Winter within him, too? Hydra held her breath, watching, watching as Osiris circled him, wondering if it was compassion that prolonged him or something smarter than that. 

And as he moved toward the stranger, Hydra watched herself come to life within him. No mercy, no forgiveness—only justice, only what was deserved. Hydra did not falter in her stride, arriving before him but a moment after the others last rattling breath, looking upon her son with entirely different eyes. There was no distinguishing one emotion from the next as they shifted within her, tangling and knotting only to unravel and pass for the following feeling to come. To overwhelm. 

I am so proud of you, she breathed to him then, looking him over to ensure he had suffered no grievous hurts. You did the right thing. You did well, she remarked, looking to the glass-eyed corpse he still clung to. Turning away from him to inspect Leta, Hydra saw life in those eyes. 

Not much of a fighter, this one. She had gotten in the way—could have gotten her son and herself killed in one dimwitted fell swoop. Hydra had her work cut out for her, and she stared down at the girl with some unknowable emotion. Sniffing at her, Hydra helped the girl to a stand before looking to Osiris. Make sure he is dead. And then, we must go and see your aunt Lyra, she drawled. One of the most important lessons she could teach him when it came to killing was making sure the job was truly done.

Osiris stared deep into Fallstag's eye as he tore into his throat and pulled, watching as it's vital light faded. He tugged mercilessly at his opponent's throat, only stopping his charge once he realized that their struggling had ceased. Fallstag was dead, and justice had been served; Leta was safe, and Hydra was suddenly beside him. 

"I am so proud of you," she said in a doting breath, looking him over to ensure he had suffered no grievous hurts. He snapped to attention at the sound of Hydra's voice, nearly jumping out of his pelt because of her unexpected arrival. Osiris breathed deeply as he attempted to calm his nerves, taking some of Fallstag's blood down as well. "You did the right thing. You did well," she remarked; he did, and he knew it. 

Then, direction: "Make sure he is dead. And then, we must go and see your aunt Lyra." He obeyed, but not without sparing a glance towards Leta's—quickly, he recognized that she was alive. The revulsion and fear in her lively expression, the shallow rise and fall of her chest—she was alive. 

With renewed purpose, he turned to the cadaver. Making quick work of Fallstag's throat, Osiris tugged at the bloody tendrils until they were entirely removed from his body and then spit them into the dirt beside the intruder. Feeling no remorse and abandoning the remains, Osiris scrambled onto all fours and raced to Leta's side. He pulled her into a long embrace, allowing for both of their nerves to calm before they moved. 

Once they were pacified, they did as Hydra had instructed. They sought out Lyra and had their injuries tended to, and keept low for the following days as they recovered.