Rising Sun Valley before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves

@Shardul I did not specify a location really, so feel free to choose one!

The moon was tucked behind an endless shroud of thick cloud. The air was crisp and cold. The early night was still and quiet, but not the white wolf who stirred in the shallow impression that served as his bed. His forehead was furrowed and his breaths came in soft huffs as tension gripped his ribs. He found his paws, rising with a loud exhale. He wandered, finding himself at the edge where robust trees met the flat expanse of the meadows. He peered out, his silver eyes hard and icy. Ruled by emotion in this moment, he left home without a second thought. He followed a trail leading out from the hollow, made by broad paws that did not leave the imprints of claws at the tip of each track. No wolf could match the stealth and elusiveness of the creature he sought, but he was driven. Hour after hour he spent piecing together the traces that were left behind, roaming further and further from where he should have been.

overture downs? <3 thanks for starting! tagging regi for visibility

the trees that formed the bulk of the sloping lands were sufficient enough to closet aside shardul and his ward for the last several nights, while the wounds inflicted by the hollow wolf and the foolish cougarette slowly healed. the cat was in a foul temper and snappish -- @Regipre kept to herself, a wise thing indeed given the long reach of his long claws. he would not have harmed her, but when his gorge had risen several times in the night, and a mild fever intensified his wrath, she was not safe from his raised voice.

presently, hunger flaring in his gut, shardul took to the hills for a hunt, feeling quite a bit more infused with life than he had in the days past. the coyote pup would follow, or perhaps she would not -- the silver cat was not swayed in either direction. the heavy scent of a moose flickered across his senses, but shardul knew he must settle for smaller game, given his compromised state.

and then he smelled wolf, and red anger burned across his vision -- he slunk into the lee of a thick tree-bole to watch the odd blue nose of the pale creature cover the earth, and his muscles tensed to attack.

that works!

His awareness was not commonly acute, but he hunted the most dangerous game and he knew it. On some subconscious level, he sensed the cat's presence before he could hear or see it. The furs along his spine rose with the chill that swept over him, but it was swiftly replaced with a heat born of anger. He spun, bristling, to face the direction he believed the threat to be coming from, his ears pinned forward and his tail stiff. There was no quiet rumbling; he snarled loud and intensely, challenging the cat to come out, to meet him head on. His muscles were coiled and his nails sank into the earth.

this wolf was more intelligent than most -- the male whirled to face the cat -- and so shardul relaxed, slipping easily into view as he created a semicircle of trekking upon broad and noiseless paws. the scent of the wolf was that which had been tangled tightly into the withers of shardul's latest victim -- the cat's features contorted into a thoroughly humourless grin. "did he die, thy fellow?" came the purr of his cunning voice, followed by a dry hiss of mocking laughter. if he could not immediately strike, he would toy. that was his law.

He was not here to talk. He was not here to even think. He was reacting, and as the cat pulled into view he snarled all the louder, his lips peeled back to reveal the fangs he wanted so desperately to sink into feline flesh. He did not hesitate. The words were barely spoken when he sprang like a rabid beast, his jaws opened and aimed for the cat's nose and muzzle. It was a reckless, rage-inspired move.

the wolf sprang at shardul; he rejoiced inwardly. white teeth flashed, scoring long cuts across the broad expanse of his snarl-wrinkled muzzle - the cat growled savagely and raised a wide paw to thrust luke aside with a heavy blow. he circled 'round once the wolf had been thrown some feet, blood dripping horridly from his lips and the edges of his mouth -- then again! he sprang! lunging to bury his fangs into the very meat of the pale one's shoulder.

His teeth connected, white fangs slashing into the cat's horrible muzzle. His ears were deafened to all sounds around him but the terrible and savage growl of his enemy. In one effortless swoop the cat threw him aside, like some insignificant, inconsequential thing, a mouse beneath a mighty paw. He felt a flash of fear, of terror borne of helplessness, but just as quick it shifted to spur him into an even, irrational greater rage. He roared his defiance, but he had not been swift to gather his feet and the cat was upon him again, tearing into a shoulder and drawing from him a wail of intense pain. He kicked furiously but without strategic intention, flailing madly as his saliva-dripping jaws snapped with just as much desperation. He wanted to regain his feet, but he was not yet so far enough beaten as to wisely think to flee should he able to.

blood flooded into his muzzle, but shardul twisted aside as white teeth slashed his cheek. the cut was superficial, but bled profusely, running along his face to mingle with that of the wolf's. the silver cat leapt free of the morass and prowled to circle his prey. for that wounding would he prolong the other's suffering, though the usual fear had not yet entered the features of the foolish tabaqui. no matter -- shardul would shatter the wolf upon the altar of his own pride.

There was a time in the white wolf's life when anger had been the norm, and if not rage then there had been sickening misery. It was why he had been strongly encouraged to leave home, to find his sun and to find foundation. Now, his wild temper seemed to have returned.

The cat leapt free of him and he gained his feet, planting them firm and holding his blood-stained ground. His head was carried low, defensively, and still he bristled and snarled with all the ferocity he could muster as his steel-hard stare followed the circling predator. Ever foolish in his rage, and woefully inexperienced at combat, he leaped again for the cat, attempting to once more score the creature's muzzle, to lacerate his nose and tear so savagely at that mocking face.

the wolf's teeth connected once more, but shardul anticipated the pain. he slashed a paw upward, seeking to tear the beast from his muzzle and thrust him harshly down into the dust, before the silver body descended upon that of the wolf. the anger of the creature was unbounded, but the murderous ire that shardul bore all of the lupine's ilk would reign stronger. again he struck, and again, using his great strength and the heft of his massive body to his advantage.

He had struck in the same fashion as he had before, and the cat did the same, once more tossing the raging white wolf into the ground as though he were made of feathers, not meat. Luke is clearly insane in his ire, for is it not the mark of the insane to do the same thing expecting a different result? He barely registers the taste of blood on his teeth, scarcely realized he had contacted again with that ugly snout, before the shadow of death descends upon him. He is struck again and again, and for the first time he becomes aware of pain, the cat's beatings finally breaking, finally piercing the armor of anger.

He struggled in vain to dislodge the predator. He is exhausted, the ground beneath him scored with the determination of his nails, but determination not enough. He is an inexperienced fighter and does not have the stamina to stand up the punishment, and he wilts beneath the cat, his body trembling with exertion, and also with fright. He is at the mercy of a vengeful demon, and his rage is draining out with each desperate breath, fear taking its place.

at last the wolf seemed to cease his hateful struggle -- shardul bludgeoned him carefully once more, if only to see an expression of pain blossom across the other's face -- before thrusting roughly the wolf aside. he himself climbed to his paws and circled the pale beast once more. his intention was to torture, to maim, to prolong the moment of death as long as it could be delayed. in many ways, it was the seduction of the orgasm, though not so very physical.

shardul waited, humming lowly in his throat.

Finish up in the next post or two? You know what to do haha ;) Also, my apologies for flipping my tenses around. My brain has been muddled since doing a few posts in present tense lmao.

The cat lashed out at him again, striking him, drawing his face into a pained and terrfied pinch before he was thrown aside. He had never felt so small, so weak, so incredibly foolish and useless. His body was breaking under the blows, but so was his confidence, his spirit. He stared wide-eyed, panicked, at the feline as it prowled about him. His body shook as the power of adrenaline left him. He tried to gather his paws beneath him, to stand, but he quavered badly. With one last pulse of energy he bolted, the fighting drive at last gone, affording room for the flight instinct to lend itself to his limbs. But his efforts were staggering, clumsy, he practically threw himself in a desperate, futile bid to escape. He would be caught, he knew this even through the frenzy of panic. He was certain he would die here, in a pool of his own blood and stupidity.

sure! this will be my last post :3 and don't worry about the tenses; you are totally fine

at last! the fear leapt firelike into the eyes of the wolf who had sought to fight against shardul, and the silver cat gave a low and mocking laugh. the jackal, he tried to run, but in an instant shardul had forced him back against the ground with a lazy trip of his massive paw. "thou shalt know my name," the cat spoke, bringing his massive head close to that of the wolf. yellow gaze burned into the horrified silver of the foolish one's own, and then shardul spoke no more.

time passed in a sort of route way, though shardul could not say how long he worked upon the body of his most precious creation. the dying light found the last flit of the cat's long tail disappearing into the underbrush -- the breath of first moonhaze surrounded the bloodied body of the wolf in a soft aura, but one that did little to veil that which had been done to the still body.

claws had rent deeply the cheeks of the stupid creature -- the lacerations traveled indiscriminately down his sides, his flanks. blood from countless wounds had painted the pale pelt crimson, and, as if to evidence the last of shardul's dark passions made whole, he had taken the helpless creature in a lustful manner, hurting the tender flesh there.

but shardul had gone, and the wolf was alone -- if there was breath left in his maimed body, the cat knew it not.

<3!

That name would haunt his mind, reverberating in his skull as a cynical hiss and a threatening growl for some time to come. Shardul.

He expelled the last of his energies in a wrenching cry, one that bore his horror and his acceptance both. He had failed in the uttermost and was to die here because of it. He went limp beneath the bludgeoning of the cat's paws and the tear of his terrible claws, overwhelmed by the onslaught of pain from the wounds already carved into his body and the ones being made now, and numbed from his own admittance that he was done. There was nothing more to do, and if there was, he hadn't the strength to do it. The last thing he did was to squeeze his eyes shut and dig his nails into the earth as the cat dishonored and desecrated him in the most intimate way.

But he did not die, though he willed himself to immediately upon waking the next morning when a crow pecking at a gash in his side roused him. Frost had settled onto his blood-stained coat, and he hurt in more ways that he knew was possible. He was broken in body, mind, and spirit, and it would take many hours before he would rise, shakily, and hobble home.