Redrum limped through the open fields, his gait uneven and strained, each step carrying a weight that was both physical and emotional. His dark red fur was matted, splattered with dried blood—some his, some not. The wound on his neck, a jagged gash from Enyo’s vicious assault, still oozed in places, a dull, throbbing ache pulsing through the torn flesh. The world around him was quiet save for the whisper of wind through tall grass, the rustle of unseen creatures scurrying away from the scent of fresh violence. Prey animals running from the scent of predators.

His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, muscles twitching uncontrollably beneath his battered frame. There was a tightness in his throat, something unsaid, something struggling to surface, yet stubbornly refusing to give itself a name. Golden eyes, narrowed with pain and confusion, darted restlessly as if seeking an answer from the empty fields. But there was no comfort here, no resolution to the turmoil that churned within him.

What… was this?

Enyo’s name hung on his tongue, sharp as a blade, sweet as poison. The clash they’d shared had been a blur of teeth and claws, of snarls and guttural sounds that spoke of fury and something far more dangerous. And now… now, even with the wounds she’d inflicted still stinging, the memory of her burned brighter than pain. There was something about her—raw, fierce, something that called to him in a way he didn’t understand. How could he?

Redrum shook his head sharply, regretting it as pain flared through the torn muscles of his neck. He winced, ears flattening. Every thought of her felt like a hook buried deep beneath his skin, pulling, dragging, refusing to let go. A fish hook? His heart beat faster as he thought of her—the way she moved, the fire in her eyes, the way she had smiled even as they tore into each other. It was intoxicating. Maddening.

He didn’t know the words for what he felt. He didn’t know how to define this turmoil, this mix of heat and frustration that simmered just beneath his surface. No. He couldn’t—didn’t—shouldn’t—

But every time he tried to push the idea away, it slipped back, more insistent, more consuming. What was this pull? Why couldn’t he shake it? She had fought him like an enemy, and yet, in those moments, it felt like they were something more. Two beasts locked in a dance of teeth and blood, of challenge and acceptance.

The fields blurred around him as he staggered onward, the tall stalks swaying gently, parting like shadows as he made his slow, painful way toward the den he called his own. His mother’s lands stretched endlessly around him, familiar and safe, but tonight, they felt foreign, hollow. As if everything had shifted. He felt… empty without her. Without Enyo. That was a foolish notion, wasn’t it? A fleeting one as he experienced so often?

Redrum’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding audibly. He hated this. This vulnerability, this loss of control. The not-knowing clawed at him, worse than any physical wound. She had hurt him, and he should hate her for it. Should want to rip her apart. And yet, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the thrill of the fight, the way she’d grinned, the way she’d pushed him to his limits—and how alive he had felt in her presence.

A low, frustrated growl bubbled up from his chest. He didn’t know what to do with this. He didn’t know—didn’t understand this strange, unbearable desire to see her again. To be near her. To prove himself to her. It was madness. Insanity. His breaths came faster, his claws digging into the earth beneath him as he stumbled, half-falling before catching himself again.

"Murder"

É R E B O S .

─

he expected him already, after treating enyo who had just left. he was already informed and thankfully so, otherwise medusa's son wouldn't have been met with the same hospitality. hearing a growl just outside his den and the strong scent of tangy blood, Érebos ventured out to see the staggering mortem. worn down by battle, Érebos moved quickly with a harsh gaze and pinched brows. "Lay down. stop moving." he sighed, assessing their body with skilled ease. "You younger wolves know no discipline. Fight one night to never rise again for another. foolish this was, from both you and enyo." he scolded him as he done her, angry as he looked over the brute's body. blood was everywhere, so bad he couldn't even identify where it was coming from. "stay."

he quickly trotted back to his den, grabbing supplies and the tin can jug of clean water with his mouth. his satchel of herbs chunked over his back as he hurried back.it was clear to see that their breathing was labored. "Take deep breathes for me. You need to calm down, your body is in shock & you're losing lots of blood." he sat down his equipment, muttering under his breath with frustration. he didn't want anything to get out of hand with the mortem and dunamis clans. hopefully these two knew what they were doing. seating himself, Érebos began his work had red allowed him to, coming to pour an even amount of cold water onto the male's upper body first. it would whisk away blood and help him see what needed to be stitched. "You okay with needles, tough guy?" his voice lightened, teasing the male some as he began to look for his needles and alcohol.

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Made for Alo by Skelle !