wheels of fate

Fracture was quick on the uptake. He moved in the union to her jump, securing the cat with efficiency. Heloise grunted and slid from its back, keeping the back of its neck in her jaws. It occurred to her that she may let it live. The sad state of the once bold cougar was enough to wretch her sympathies. But this feline was not a female. There was no cub scent on it. This was a lone male, and she knew he’d return for revenge. The dark man told her to end it; it was her prize. She could line her den with its fur too, making the winter a bit more bearable despite her own thick coat. It was a good thing that it was pinned, for the ivory woman felt conflicted. Taking a life was no simple task.

She sent a silent prayer to any god who may be listening. Then she crushed the windpipe of the cougar. It jerked violently as blood sprayed from its neck, a muffled cry echoing the quiet pine woods. Heloise closed her eyes, uttering prayer in Latin as the beast finally left this mortal plane. Her neck and belly were soaked in its blood. She opened her eyes just in time to see the cougar’s eyes flash defiantly with life before they were dull. It was dead. Panting lightly, she’d look up at Fracture. “it was… a male. No children. No cubs I could smell on him.” and if she allowed him to go, he could reproduce. Then the cougar may be more inclined to breach the border for the sake of his hypothetical cubs.

Winterfell came first. She knew that now. Even if it sounded like she was trying to convince herself what she did was right. “We should take the body to the camp; our packmates could have a use for it." Heloise went on to say, nudging her muzzle under the corpse’s arm to lift it up a bit. Waiting for Fracture to assist her or deny her, she was obviously dwarfed by the size of the beast. She needed help getting it back to camp.