damsel in distressin’

Redrum's massive paws struck first, claws sinking into the coyote's side with a sickening rip. The animal's desperate yelps filled the air as it writhed beneath him, but Redrum's grip was unyielding. He felt the creature's ribs crack under his weight, a grim satisfaction fueling his rage. His jaws snapped forward, teeth sinking into the coyote's scruff, dragging it further away into the snow.

The coyote twisted, trying to bite back, but Redrum's jaws found its throat. He clamped down with crushing force, the warm blood gushing into his mouth, an utter contrast to the cold air. The taste of iron and salt filled his senses, heightening his frenzy. He shook his head violently, tearing through flesh and sinew, feeling the life ebb away from his prey. He still heard the cat roaring for the kill, his helm hiding his maddened expression, save for his jaw and eyes.

The coyote's struggles grew weaker, its eyes glazing over with the inevitability of death. Redrum's claws continued to rake across its body with those claw covers, each strike cutting deep and bloody as if to fuel his fury and desperation. He felt the coyote's pulse slow, then stop, its body going limp beneath him.

Even as the coyote's life faded, Redrum did not relent immediately. He continued to shake the carcass, driven by a primal need to ensure the threat was utterly vanquished. His breath came in ragged gasps, the exertion and adrenaline coursing through him. Finally, he released his grip, stepping back and looking down at the bloodied, lifeless form.

His sides heaved, his muscles quivering and twitching uncontrollably with the aftermath of the fight. The snow around him was stained red, a reminder of the violence that had just transpired. He was more rabid than Redrum at this moment, but the hissing was fading as the cat was satisfied. Redrum turned to Elara, his eyes wild with a mixture of fear and relief. She was safe. She was here. But the sight of her injuries ignited a new wave of fury within him, directed now at himself for not being there sooner.

“Elara!” He whispered, his voice hoarse and choked. He stepped toward her, his movements careful, as if she might shatter under his touch. “Is Elara- Okay?” The young brute’s paw moved up to his throat, loosening the buckle there to release his skull from the helm, shaking it off and revealing a bloodied maw, and golden eyes full of guilt and longing.