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 Blood in the Water

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The Laughing Stranger
The Laughing Stranger

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Join date : 2013-08-29

Blood in the Water Empty
PostSubject: Blood in the Water   Blood in the Water EmptyThu 29 Sep 2016, 21:31

The tide came in. The jagged standing stones were were slowly flooded as frothing eddies washed ever higher along the shore. Wolves, great and rangy creatures, strode from beneath tangled cover of the trees to stand in the rising surf. In their midst was a single man, who they hounded, snapping at his heels and nosing after him, driving him into the deeper water.

Rends-the-Gar could feel the night-chilled water lapping at his throat, the salt brine prickling at his nose.

A pair of the wolves left the others, wading out after Rends-the-Gar. As they reached him, their bodies warped and ran like mercury amid a spray of salt water as they exploded into Crinos.

Robert Swift-Death stood close behind Rends-the-Gar, the Eldest's shadow falling across him and blotting out the overhead moon. Salts-the-Wounds, her grey-black hide scarred almost to the point of mutilation, stalked into view, the sea rushing around her waist.

The Philodox held aloft a jagged bladed, a cruel hooked knife made from the head of a harpoon, and Robert stepped forward, his hard, cold hands holding the condemned steady, just above the waterline. Rends-the-Gar could feel movement in the water around them, a subtle shift in the current.

Salts-the-Wounds reached out with her empty claw, and wordlessly caressed the side of Rend's face, along his cheek- when her talon reached his ear, she gripped it and yanked, pulling it taunt as she brought the dagger whistling down. A lightning bolt of pain shot through the Coyote Alpha, and then he was being forced under the surface. The brine-water bit into his wounded head, compounding the shock of having his ear severed with a brackish burn. He choked, grappling as much with his own savage anger as the searing agony.

Then Rends was foisted out by Robert, in time to see Salts-the-Wounds place his mangled ear within a scratched and battered iron strongbox, which she then carried back towards shore. In the shallows she buried it with a howl, driving it down, deep into the rocky silt of the shore where it was lost. The other Get echoed her cry, a lament that the wolf would be buried until the rising of the next Blood Moon.
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