Nov 20, 2011 20:04:22 GMT -5
Post by »Image on Nov 20, 2011 20:04:22 GMT -5
"Get the heck out of my face if you know whats good for you."[/size]
Cornered in a back crevice of cold stone and towering walls of rock, Phrino growled a caged tiger's warning. Don't mess with me. He was surrounded completely by three wolves, given two options from which to choose his fate. Go easily and get sold into a wretched institution of slavery. Or fight his bloody way out. Trained in the art of warfare, the choice had been predetermined.
His fur spiked straight along his spine, eyes flashing fury in golden slits. This was the ferocious animal that Dachau's legends had only rumored about. He was a Zielle! An esteemed, respected Head Zielle. Who had made the plans to drag him to this unforgiving place? Hmph. Who cared. The one who looked weakest would pay first. Phrino's eyes narrowed as he considered his tormentors, selecting the one directly to his left. Inattentiveness would cost him dearly. Snarling retribution, Phrino lunged at the nearest wolf, teeth wide.
His opponent had the unlucky fortune of not watching his proximity to the oppressed. And to top it off, Phrino was not one to miss his mark. He was enraged, clamping on the wolf's neck like a vice. He would not, could not let go. The warmth of blood broke into his mouth, a sweet taste compared to the foul aroma and scents that had plagued him for days as he waited for an opportunity at escape. Now was his time to turn the tables. The wolf in his grasp was growing weaker, the scrabbling and attempts to slip free slipping into fainter, slower spasms. Phrino relished the feeling, his jaws aching from the energy, the adrenaline numbing. This feeling of euphoria at another wolf's death was strange and delusional, fueling kindle for the roaring fire.
The next blow stung like iron hot fury as a new, livid pain laced across his muzzle. The other wolves had joined their accomplice, trying to free him before the clock, and his time, ran out. A pair of teeth now clamped on Phrino's own neck scruff, choking his air supply, dragging him into a subconscious of the world. Air. He needed air. Phrino stubbornly refused himself the thing he desired, greed to end the suffering of his prey overcoming him in a flash. You won't get away that easily.
Phrino's vision went black. The color drained, lost for the need to breathe. The male gave in after he could no longer stand the burning, ripping, tearing sensation that screamed from his lungs. He needed to live more than this mongrel needed to die. At his release, the victim staggered away, the crimson water dripping in a mad rush. The pressure on his throat lifted, but only barely. Phrino allowed himself to be directed towards the wall, force his only dictator. Panting with exhaustion, Phrino gave up, his eyes flickering a subdued hue of amber. He was beaten. The head wolf was swift to pin Phrino to the ground, snarling in his face with a new vengeance plastered inside the threat he spoke.
"You're gonna wish you'd never done that, mutt."
Phrino whined outwardly at the words. The once high ranking male scrabbled to get away from the brooding temper and building anger, a small silver of fear creeping into his mind. Would they kill him? Possibly. He'd tried to take one of their own. Hmph. They'd deserved it. For a moment the barely forgotten image of Dünen flashed across Phrino's memory, followed by the striking frame of her. Wicca. This couldn't be the last time he'd think of her, in all her feminine beauty and defying arrogance that he loved to hate. As a last ditch effort, Phrino cast his gaze towards the night streaked heavens. Brenn. If you're out there, anywhere, please. Help me.