Honeyed Pasture one false prayer wielding blasphemy

She was a deft fighter; he saw how she nimbly sidestepped the lunge to seize the coyote again and this time it was a better connecting strike. Held by the scruff, the creature delved out of his words and into feral screeching. The cries of fear and pain, the anger that rolled out of him in unseen waves only propelled Solpallur to grab his back just behind his shoulders.

From there, he could force him down, much larger and heavier and stronger—he was the superior canine in this situation, rending flesh and muscle from bone with only the pressure and pull of his dark maw. The renewed taste of blood was akin to ritual and he rumbled until a snarl squirmed its way out of his horrid mouth from between clenched teeth.

The coyote’s strength was waning, his fate on the cusp of being accepted as an eventually. There would be no one coming to save him now, not with two wolves upon him; his kin would be wise to avoid him just in the same way had he been a wolf. The tunnel vision was powerful; he shook at the loosened tenacity of skin, his emerald eyes almost flashing in the way they met the she-wolf.

Finish him, he seemed to suggest in that moment. End him.

rolled a 2