[b]“Fucking body bag!”[/b] 

Renaissance’s eyes narrowed in concentration as the werewolf made his move. The sound of his beloved fellow wolf taking a hit had momentarily distracted him, but not for long. Taking his chances, he leapt fourth, claws extended. Ren lowered her body out of the firing line and dove wide as if she were taking a plunge into a pool. Her movements were swift and nimble, utilising her vampiric speed to ensure she was out of the werewolf’s firing line. In strength, the two were fairly evenly matched. It was speed where Renaissance would find her advantage. There was no way a beast of that stature could compete with an ancient vampire’s agility.

After feigning and diving a quick right, her muscular arms outstretched to steady her landing, Ren used those arms to guide her into a graceful roll. Body flipping over just the once, folding out to finish in another crouched position, Ren wasted no time in carrying out her counter attack. Having successfully dodged the wolf’s rigid, hooked claws, the ancient vampire flicked her wrist that wielded her silver dagger. It glinted in the fast-fading moonlight, the encrusted jewels dancing with its vengeful appetite. The werewolf’s forceful, muscular body had arced over the top of her and now Ren would have to seize the small window of opportunity that had opened whilst the wolf’s back was turned.

After narrowly missing the werewolf’s airborne attack, he landed with a thump, tail between his hind legs. The roar that had erupted from his fang-filled jaws triggered a snarl to rip from Ren’s lips. Though she appeared human most of the time, right now she was unmistakably part beast. With her entirely black eyes, swirling like black holes in her angular face and the fangs hanging where her canines used to be, Ren was more comparable to these ferocious beasts than she cared to admit. The evil within her had been awoken and as the ancient vampire charged the furry creature with his back turned, she moved quickly and silently so as not to warn him of her approach.

Beginning her attack with a few quick steps, Renaissance bent her knees and pushed her form upward. Jumping into the air, as the werewolf had, she gripped the silver dagger in her left hand whilst her right harboured the spiked talon poised and ready. The vampire speed with which Ren moved would be difficult, if not impossible, for the werewolf to avoid. He would not be as lucky as her when it came to dodging attacks. If only he’d just moved that little bit quicker, he’d have been able to turn around to face his vampire opponent and the exposure of his back in battle would not have arisen.

The ancient soared through the air, a shooting star, landing firmly with a satisfying thud on the werewolf’s back. Ren’s legs gripped either side of the wolf’s spine as if she were taking a wild stallion. Then, to give her grip, she sunk her talon into the right hand side of the thick, beastly neck. Before he could register the pain of the vampire’s talon, Ren jabbed her dagger into the left hand side of his neck. Like creating handles for herself to ride the enraged, lupine creature, she leant her body forward to deepen the penetration of both her talon and blade. Hearing flesh give way, bones crunch and the sounds of another werewolf cry from behind her, Ren hissed whilst she mounted her beastly enemy. She twisted both wrists, hacking wider and deeper into the wounds she’d created. 

[i]“Lyselle!”[/i] Renaissance shouted, her voice dripping with an urgent authority [i]“Whilst I have him, finish him!”[/i] She wasn’t sure how long she could remain seated on the werewolf’s back. Soon enough he’d recover from the pain of penetration in his neck, he’d see past the pain created by the silver in his jugular. Being mounted on the wolf’s back was not a position the ancient vampire wanted to be in for long. There were too many variables of opportunity for his counter attack, and by the rumble of agonised rage in his throat, he would be quick to avenge.

__________________________________


Violet’s bellow of pain shook the clearing. Leaves leapt from their branches in response to the bone-rattling roar. All she could see was blood. Blood everywhere. Her own. Spattered in the dirt, clouding over her vision. Blood and mud mixing beneath her clawed paws, white hot pain submerging her. She could barely breathe, barely take a breath in beyond the pained cries that fell from her jaws involuntarily. 

The Huntress was so close to killing her, she felt her soul begin to peel away from her body. Would these really be her final moments? In the company of the despicable undead she loathed so much? And facing a Huntress with loyalties to evil?

As her legs gave out, Violet’s heavy torso crashing to the woodland floor, her vision fazed out of focus. Instead, she was no longer in the forest. The trees had disappeared, the smell of rotting flowers no longer peppering her wet nose. No, she was watching herself. Seeing herself as a young pup. She was back at the den Violet and Victor had grown up in. The sun beat down from way above them and beautiful green shrubbery surrounded their dirt-made den. Violet’s paws, still too big for her growing body, were padding playfully as she chased young Victor. They were chippering and chirping as the two played, taking it in turns to jump on top of one another and paw at eachother. Panting happily, tails wagging back and forth, the pup siblings joyfully wrestled in the sun. 

Then the memory began to fade to black and the last thing Violet heard was the sounds of her own final howl at the moon.