Dark Flame Of Mine [Creedance]

Amaranth was a vicious creature, prone to furious bouts of rage and aggression. She hated most everything, seemingly nothing could crack through that cold frame of malice and indifference. Her lips would coil back over ivory fangs, a rumbling snarl vibrating up and through her larynx. Her tail would lash behind her, slicing through the air with wicked irritation. She was not a kind or gentle soul. She wanted to rip this figure apart and should it be one of her tormentors, she would meet them with tooth and fang until her body failed her. There would be no hole on earth they could escape her ferocity. He approach her, snapping back his own response. Her snarl would heighten, rising in its pitch, golden eyes narrowing into a wicked glare as she locked gazes with this monstrosity.

His scent was familiar too her. Sparking a memory and instantly she imagined the ruby stain of his life spilling out across his fur drenching his pelt and the sands beneath them, thoughts of the sea had vanished, thoughts of life had vanished. She recognized that scent...but it did not bring forth her anger and aggression. This confused her. Anyone of her past should have brought forth indiscernible rage and malice, they raped her, they beat her, they gnawed at her flesh like demons have starved, but he brought a calming sense of peace washing over her. How...why?

The snarl died in her throat as she recognized the strange markings adorning his face, and for a moment she could do naught but stare. Improbable, impossible, inconceivable. He was dead. She had watched him die. She had watched them rip him part. He was dead! He was dead! He was dead! Her confusion morphed to malice. Who was this imposter who dare toy with her? Who were they to force her to remember? Who were they to remind her of that day? She snapped, her teeth coming together in an audible click. Her hackles rose and her claws tore into the sands, barely concealable rage washing over her.

"Who the fuck are you and why do you pose as my Cree." It wasn't a question but a command. The snarl ripping through the air like the crack of a whip, her tones venomous, poisonous, toxic. He would answer or Amaranth would rip him apart.