Good ol fashioned stress relief

In the midst of the thrill of the hunt, it was easy for Alastor to lose himself in the chaos and carnage of primal nature. He was a predator and the buffalo his prey. Sharp gemstone claws carved through the thick, fatty flesh of the cow while she bellowed and bucked, desperately trying to throw the wolf from her. Alastor's muscles rippled as he fought to keep his grasp on the prey animal, snarling like a feral beast while he clawed and clambered his way up the buffalo's side, tearing through skin and sinew until trails of blood flowed down the bison's side. No matter how much the buffalo tried to throw him off like a rampaging bull, the dire wolf clung tight to it, eventually managing to climb his way up onto the animal's back, biting into the tough skin along its backbone to hold on while his quarry thrashed about. Thanks to Manea, he was left one on one with the bison without the aid of her pack long enough to begin wearing down the cow's stamina, and by the time his wife came in with her artful crippling blows to the animal's legs, the fight was all but over.

Alastor felt gravity shift around him as Manea cleaved the bison's legs out from under her, sending the heavy creature toppling over with a bellow of pain and fear. Crawling along the buffalo's side as it hit the ground, Alastor repositioned himself and regained his momentum, springing up in a blur of tightly coiled muscles releasing all their tensed energy as he lunged up the length of the buffalo's body to reach its throat. Deadly jaws opened wide as the dire brute moved like a bolt of ebony lightning to bite down around the panicking animal's throat. And just like that, the hunt was over. The final sounds made before the knolls went into deathly silence was the ferocious snarl of the dire wolf and the last cry of the cow, and then Alastor's jaws crushed down around her windpipe, smashing her trachea and ripping through arteries and veins. Hot blood gushed into his mouth, pouring down his chin and neck like a geyser as each beat of the bison's heart spurted more and more of the warm, viscous liquid into his maw. Alastor gave a little shudder of grim delight as the taste of copper and iron coated his tongue, making dark eyes widen with ecstasy and pupils shrink to pinpricks as the feral instincts fed at the dying cow. Hooves scraped weakly at the ground while the bison slowly died, its strength sapping away with each panicked beat of its heart until the straining muscle could pump no more.

Only once the struggle had stopped did Alastor release the buffalo's throat, breathing heavy and quivering with delight from the thrill of the successful hunt. Blood dripped from his fangs and mouth, each hot exhale forming a cloud of steam at the end of his bloodstained muzzle. The dire brute wore a macabre grin on his face while he reveled in the high of taking a life, a thrill he hadn't felt like this in some time. Sure, all the hunts he participated in had the same excitement, but never to the degree that a hunt for sport on a massive animal like this did for him! Raising his head high above his prey with his tail curling up over his hips in a show of dominance, Alastor gave a giddy laugh to no one and nothing in particular, feeling a buzzing high he had missed. Then the brute's gaze turned, snapping to Manea where she stood at the side of the kill, looking at her with this euphoric gleam in his obsidian eyes. His beautiful wife, his greatest supporter, she had made this happen for him. Without waiting for her to say or do anything, Alastor hopped down off of the buffalo carcass and closed the space between them, moving to capture Manea's lips in a hard, heated kiss that poured all of his love and gratitude for her into this one motion.

"Manea & Alastor Mendacium"