At the End of the World

The panic in the little wolf's eyes was divine and Batos' believed that he could taste fear on the air. He expected the winged man to run for his life, but before he did that, the dumb bastard called for backup. Batos tsked and rolled his eyes. He wouldn't get to take his time or have any sort of fun. Killing at leisure was the best part, but he supposed if he was being forced to rush... Fine.

The little wolf ran after howling and Batos gave chase. The difference in size was comical. The monochromatic brute's stride was long whereas the smaller wolf's stride made his little legs disappear in a blur. Those wings would surely get in the way and slow him down, so Batos took his time, using his trajectory to steer his prey in the opposite direction that he'd called in. Make them work for it. It would give him a smidge more time too.

Batos gained on the winged wolf, growling loudly juuuust to let him know where he was. Jaws snapped on the end of the fleeing man's tail and he spat the fur away, but the action had caused the little brute to stumble. Batos dove forward, his big body crashing hard atop the other man. One huge paw pushed onto the back of the wolfs head, his claws digging in. Batos pushed the little bird's face into the dirt, but was it to humiliate him or to muffle his oncoming screams?

Jaws opened wide and clamped down hard on the thickest part of wing. Using his paws to keep the wolf in place, Batos stretched his powerful neck, applying pressure to the wing until the black and orange wolf's body could hold out no more. The wing separated from the wolf's body and for the second time that day the rich scent of blood filled the air. Batos pulled and pulled until it separated entirely, then spat it aside. The flailing and screaming mattered little and, ever the completionist, Batos moved on and gave the same treatment to the opposite wing.

With both wings removed and laying on either side of the tiny wolf, there wasn't much else to pull off. So, Batos spread his jaws wide and clamped down on the back of his prey's head and neck. Muscles in his neck and jaws flexed as he ever so slowly bit harder and harder, his grip getting tighter and tighter. Batos could feel the skull of the brute squeaking against his fangs, but that sound was drowned out by the squelching crunch as the bones of the skull gave way. The little bastard was as good as dead, though the grey and white brute was a little disappointed. The woman had put up more of a fight.

With the skull crushed, Batos used one big paw to flip the dismembered wolf onto his back. With practiced ease, his teeth slid through fur, skin, muscle and flesh, laying open the wolf's chest right down to the bone. Just as he had with the woman, Batos spread the ribcage open wide, making a happy little sound as they cracked loudly. Reaching into the body, Batos gobbled down the heart and the liver, both nutrient rich and delicious. Had to make the hunt worthwhile, you know.

Once his meal was finished, Batos prepared to leave, but not before he did one last thing. With a twist of his jaws and a couple of well placed bites, he tore the little wolf's head clean off. The head he placed upon a rock and he leaned the wings up behind it so that it looked like the head might fly away. A little chuckle escaped the man and he left the bloodied clearing with a jaunty step. He was terribly funny, but he doubted anyone else was clever enough to appreciate his humor.

"Batos"