[b][u]Roan[/u][/b]

Every bit of Roan seemed wild and untamed. Pain, hunger and worse all gnawed at his soul and his weaker mind sending it into restless fits. His stomach was sent into vertigo and seemed to choke him silently, leaping into his throat where it was caught churning relentlessly and refused to be denied. His hanging arms seemed to have no feeling anymore when the numbness set in. They were useless, dangling like dead weight against the stranger’s back who carried him though quiet alleyways and abandoned paths. Each step of the massive man was like rattling his very bones causing him to flinch with the pain. 

He felt the bandaged wound flare with fresh agony. More blood seeped, it stained the makeshift cloth used to bind his injury, only barely stoppering the flow downward. Roan felt his joints cracking and seize with a new wave of pain, one not found in the effect of his earlier encounter. Mostly because he knew all those had healed long ago.

Something was wrong. 

He felt it in his very marrow, the way the joints seemed to creak and protest, and nape of his neck hairs rose in protest. They erected with fear that now pounded in his head plagued by a migraine. He could hear the subtle growl in his ears, not realizing it was his own voice reflecting a warning, stirring his mind from an almost dead state.

This was different than before. It felt more desperate, frightened and...hungry.  

It felt like something was lurking within his body. The eyes watching and waiting, aggressively stalking to seize a weaken moment. Roan’s head jerked up. His eyes wide and alert, the pale hair already shifting into a darker, unnatural black. His skin itched and twitched, the fur starting to sprout while his muscles started to thicken. He reacted on adrenaline coursing through his veins. Before Markul could react and tighten his grip, Roan’s arms pushed off the tall man’s shoulder and tried to distance himself. Something was dead wrong, enough to force him to create distance between him and the man, uncertain what was going to happen.   

Crack...His bones started to abruptly shift when his foot hit the ground causing him crouch, his voice let out a yell in his surprise. This was happening far too fast much to his horror when already his tail surged forth, his right arm preventing him from smacking the ground muzzle first when it erupted out of his face. His razor sharp canine teeth glistened before his eyes set upon the first sound he heard. Something, large and scared, scrambled onto the nearest crate in its haste to escape. It twitched its scabby nose, whiskers sensing his presence, as its lips pulled its black lips back and reveal its oversize yellow teeth. It hissed causing Roan to belt out a snarl. In a flash he was on it. His fangs torn into the flesh, points sinking into the warmth and tongue coated with the rustic taste. Roan’s jaw held fast for a moment, feeling the high pitched, panicked squeal then tightened. Organs were buried into, spilling more precious and delicious taste, while the bones gave away to his crushing power.

Killing it in his maw, his hands raised close to his snout sides. They gripped the limp head and back half, his teeth cutting through the thick, pulp body as he ripped the rat’s carcass’ ends down. It tore into two rather easily allowing him to slurp up the innards greedily. In Roan’s mind it all happened slowly when he savored the morsel. It wasn’t enough for him. His belly still clawed at his insides, demanding more. Instinctively his head lifted skyward. He noted the roof and the flutter of birds… his nose inhaled a familiar scent. More blood mingling with sweat and another odd scent.  

It was hard to place it as it smelt like old hide, though if his human mind was awake then he might’ve written it off as the butcher’s leather apron. 

His mouth salivated, the white glop dripped down. He gave no warning as his legs curled under him, the muscles tightened then snapped forward. Roan easily leap to the roof’s edge and scaled hand over hand, his body quickly rising higher. Every second seemed to tickle by in his need to feed. However to Markul, it was over in moments. The wolf had quickly ripped the rat into swallow-able pieces, devoured it,  then vanishing to the roof in a single bound. 

Roan was following the scent of freshly drawn blood, his wound starting to mend itself, leaving his bloodied bandage behind.