The frigid air stung Xairo's nostrils as he bounded back toward the makeshift den, his paws sinking into the icy ground with each determined step. His heart raced with exhilaration, the thrill of the chase still coursing through him. The shadows of the aspens loomed overhead, their bare branches reaching like skeletal fingers against the dimming twilight. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was lurking just out of sight, a predator whose presence sent a shiver down his spine. As they neared the den, he couldn’t help but hesitate outside- his nose twitching with anticipation as he caught the rancid scent of decaying flesh on the frostbitten breeze. He flashed a silent glance to his brother and sister. Conveying his suspicion- mirroring their own.

And with nothing more than a firm nod, he rushed the den. Inside, the murky darkness felt thicker than the chill in the air. Xairo's eyes adjusted quickly, scanning the cramped space for any sign of the threat that loomed just beyond their fragile shelter. He could feel his siblings at his side, their thin fur bristling in unison as they shared a silent accord of fear. The rancid scent grew stronger here, enveloping them like a suffocating cloak. Then, he saw it. A gaunt figure lay sprawled in the corner, fur matted and riddled with scars. The mangy wolf's ribs jutted out like cracked twigs, and its one good eye glimmered with a mix of hunger and despair. There was no recognition there. And he couldn’t help but feel like they had walked right into its trap.

Word Count: 263
"Xairo Saxe"

Mother Absinth had accompanied Zagan and his siblings to Auster, as they were interested in the ethereal events occurring on one of its beaches. The rumors of an entire territory being swallowed by tremors in the earth were exciting, but also, unnerving. What if a catastrophic event like that happened in The Syndicate? It seemed to be linked to the crimson haze that lingered in the sky, which cast an eerie glow all across the continents, the North included. The events must have been tied in some way- but how? And what better method to gain information, than to go and investigate for yourself?

While Mother Absinth searched the forest for their next meal, Zagan and his siblings chose their den for the night. The air was biting cold, the temperature dropping by the minute so there was no time to waste. All around them, an oppressive silence hung in the air- the crunching of underbrush beneath their paws was amplified in the stillness, echoing like a warning in the trees. The aspens loomed all around them, urging them into their sanctuary- as if they would be hunted by a phantom if they did not seek shelter soon.

Nearing the den, Zagan is about to rush inside- but a rancid, stomach-churning smell freezes him in place. Standing beside Xairo, he shares a look of suspicion with him. The smell was coming from inside the den. Had someone invaded their temporary home while they were out exploring? What was waiting for them inside the abyss?

Steeling their resolve, the trio takes a step inside. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was overwhelmed by the strength of the rancid smell- it consumed every inch of the cramped space, creating a suffocating, noxious cloud that disgusted him.

Their temporary sanctuary had become a threat. In the corner of the den, was the silhouette of a mangy, disease-ridden wolf- its fur matted against a visible frame of skin and bones, with a single eye that glared at them. Daring them to come closer. Around the wolf, the shadows seemed to shift, conveying a sense of imminent danger.

But Zagan was not going to tuck tail and flee- this was their shelter, and they outnumbered the wolf three to one. Even without Mother Absinth, Zagan was confident he and his siblings could chase the trespasser out of their den.

Locking eyes with the wolf, Zagan issues a challenge, locking them in a battle of wills. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the weight of dominance and submission. “Leave.” He growls through bared fangs, the quills along his nape standing erect as he bristled his pelt.

Word count: 445

"Zagan Saxe"

The den loomed ahead like a gaping maw, its shadows swallowing the last of the evening light as Ravana and her brothers crept closer, each step a silent muffled sound on the frostbitten ground. She felt a twinge of pleasure in the chill that prickled through her fur; the feeling of being alive and ready for anything. With Mother away on her hunt, it was their turn to test their instincts—and the task was a simple one; get back to the den and make sure nothing was amiss for dinner.

Ravana’s gaze darted to Xairo, his intense focus painted across his face, golden eyes narrowed as he probed the shadows around them. Always careful, ever the watcher, she mused, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Then she turned her attention to Zagan, his unease about the foreign surroundings. She knew without a word that they all shared the same distrust of the quiet.

The rancid stench hit her in a thick wave as they neared the entrance, a rotting odor that tasted of sickness and decay, and she let it fill her senses, ignoring the revulsion that pooled in her gut, Ravana’s lips twitched into a smirk, mirroring the thrill that bubbled within her. She forced herself to remain outwardly composed, though her thoughts churned with anticipation. Whatever had decided to crawl into their den was likely a pathetic, broken thing… something she could take her time with.

Then they moved, rushing in, their presence flooding the cramped space with swiftness. And there it was—a lone wolf, gaunt and skeletal, barely a scrap of fur clinging to his diseased frame. Festering wounds marred his body, and his eyes—one dull, one a feverish gleam—glared back at them, as if daring them to approach. That wasn’t very nice.

Ravana’s lip curled into a sneer, her dagger-like teeth glinting in the half-light. She felt a delicious wave of contempt rise within her, the stark disgust mingling with satisfaction as she took in his pitiful form. “The stench of this mutt will never come out of the bedding.” she hissed, her voice a low, venomous drawl as she cast a glance at her brothers. A part of her wondered, half in fascination, half in horror, what Mother would say upon her return, finding this wretched parasite defiling their space. She could already picture her disapproving gaze, the subtle frown that would crease her face as she looked to her children to deal with it. A test, maybe. But part of her also wondered if it had been The Sultan here instead, how delightful this could be. She longed for another test of his.

wc; 443 words
ravana

Xairo stepped forward, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and disdain as he surveyed the pitiful creature before him. The stench was overpowering, but it did little to dampen his determination. This was their territory, their sanctuary, and he would not allow this intruder to sully it. He could feel the stirrings of dominance boiling within him, urging him to assert his power. “No, I don’t think he gets to leave.” Xairo growled, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It was directed to Zagan’s command to leave. But this sorry excuse for a wolf might have thought he could get an easy meal out of their den.

With a sudden burst of energy, Xairo lunged forward, his body low and ready to strike. He was driven by a primal thrill, his instincts flaring up as he felt the rush of challenge course through him. This was a test—a chance to prove their strength. The mangy wolf let out a raspy growl, its single eye narrowing as it braced itself for an impending skirmish. Xairo reveled in the defiance; it was like a spark igniting in the darkness of the den. The adrenaline surged through him, urging him to dominate, to retaliate against this wretched trespasser who dared encroach upon their home- as temporary as it may be.

The world outside the den faded into a muted background, the thrum of silence amplifying the tension within the cramped space. Xairo surged forward, all youthful exuberance and fierce determination. The gaunt wolf reacted instinctively, the final remnants of its pride flaring as it clawed feebly at the air, seeking to fend off the impending onslaught.

Xairo's heart pounded with the exhilaration of battle; each thump resonated like a war drum in his ears. There was power in his limbs, energy crackling through his frame as he harnessed it into a series of quick, calculated strikes. The gaunt wolf stumbled under the force of his assault, its limbs failing to comply, and Xairo let out a triumphant growl that echoed in the cramped space of their den. It was intoxicating—

Word Count: 354
"Xairo Saxe"

The trio stood as a united force against the trespasser, ready to engage and reclaim their temporary abode. But the disease-ridden wolf refused to submit, even with Zagan’s warning. No, I don’t think he gets to leave. Xairo’s voice rang out beside him, and for a second, Zagan glanced at his brother- both of their faces lighting up with sinister glee. He glanced at Ravana next, who seemed equally enthralled- the three of their hearts beating in rhythm, with a pulsating energy that seemed to envelope them. To devour them. It was a symphony of desire and anticipation- the need to destroy the threat that dared to infiltrate their sanctuary.

Surging after Xairo, Zagan launches a vicious assault, grabbing the perpetrator by one of his forelimbs. He bites down with all the force he can muster, his onslaught emitting an ear-piercing crack as he splintered the bone between his teeth, breaking it into fragments beneath the skin. He’d start trying to drag the wolf out of the den, agreeing with his sister’s comment. This wolf would not continue to sully their abode. It’s filthy blood could be splattered across the dirt outside of the den, where the trio could leave a macabre show of strength and resilience for Mother Absinth to see when she returned.

"Zagan Saxe"

As her brothers lunged, Ravana hung back, her eyes gleaming as she watched them descend on the filthy intruder. The wolf barely resisted, its strength already sapped, a pitiful struggle of bones and gasps as it was dragged out into the snow where it should have stayed.

Blood seeped quickly, pooling in the snow beneath them, a warm, metallic scent that wrapped around Ravana like a familiar embrace. She edged closer, her steps light, careful, as her brothers wrestled the beast down, their growls filling the air. The creature’s eyes rolled back, and in that final, desperate twitch, Ravana saw her moment.

Moving with practiced ease, she slipped her paw in, feeling the slick warmth of the wolf’s open belly—already slashed open courtesy of one of her brothers—as her claws found a loop of intestine, soft and pliant, still pulsing with the last vestiges of life. Her heart thrilled as she gave a quick, precise tug, freeing the length of sinewy flesh without her brothers even noticing. The intestines were warm and supple in her grasp, glistening in the dim light, and she thought with dark satisfaction about how they’d dry into something marvelous. String worth far more than the life it had come from.

As she withdrew, a small smirk curved her lips. A future component of a charm, perhaps—one that would carry the sickly joy of this night.

ravana