Sanguine

Wylde cringed back, whimpering, from the implied blow, watching the tensed muscles warily. Her tail slips between her legs as she crouches, perfectly still, every muscle tense and rigid, waiting for the blow. She didn’t know what she would do herself – would she take the blow with a whimper and flee, or would she bite down hard on that furred fist? She didn’t dare shoot a glance to the other wolf in the room – she knew she was nothing in Tuff’s mind beside him, despite being his so-called mate. How could she have been so stupid as to think things would change? He still burned for Mike, still focused all his attention on the younger wolf, still had no use for a “weak” female.

What was she doing, anyway? She neither wanted nor needed Tuff. She wanted…. well, that was immaterial. As the blow came down towards her head, she snarled, lunging at Tuff’s fist, sinking her fangs into the delicate flesh. Tuff yelped, snarling viciously as he flailed his arm, throwing the white wolf against the wall with a dull, sickening thud. Wylde struggled to focus as she lifted her head, snarling in warning, but Tuff was not frightened by her vague threats, and continued to come at her. She watched his half-lupine mouth moving, but paid no attention to the words – she knew them well enough without listening. Stupid, bitch, cunt… She had to get up, had to bite again, or he’d hurt her. She watched the foot moving towards her ribs, struggling to get to her feet, to move out of the way, too slow…

The foot, miraculously, hit an invisible wall, which glowed faintly gold as he made contact. Wylde stared at the spot where it had hit stupidly, then lifted her head again to sniff the air. Detergent, feathers, and above all, the sweet scent of Justice. Wylde laid her head back down, her snarling ceasing, and closed her eyes, drifting off somewhat.

As she awoke, she felt the fingers brushing against her fur, soft and gentle as always. She opened her eyes, lifting her head, the dizziness gone – but then, her natural healing factor tended to prevent concussions. She nuzzled into Cornstalker’s hand, wriggling a little so her head rested in his lap, looking up at him with a soft whimper. To her delight, he smiled a bit, though he didn’t look entirely pleased by the situation. “Wylde… what happened? I thought you were done with him.” he said, softly, making it obvious he disapproved of her actions, but not overly chastising. She considered not answering, but as he frowned at her, lifting his hand, she sighed, shifting to her hybrid form so she could speak properly.

“I just… I don’t know what I was thinking, ok?” she said, looking away from his stern face, refusing to make eye contact.

“Wylde… he’s no good for you and you know it. He could have broken something, or worse.” began Cornstalker, before sighing, and falling silent. They’d had this fight so many times before…

“I… I know.” said Wylde, softly, reluctantly relinquishing her comfortable position in his lap. “I… how can I make it up to you?” she asked, her ears back and eyes downcast. She could feel his surprise in the way he stiffened a little, in the rustle of his wings as he turned to look at her.

After a long moment, Cornstalker smiled. “Well, we could use some backup tonight, for starters…”