// up above so, up above so quiet //
Oh, he prowls and stops short – not enough to cause such a shuffle of snow to imply something else is there, but more like a course correction, as he watches with delight to see the trap the Maverick has made. The man staggers and the fyrhund’s paw lifts as he leans in a bit closer, watching and nearly howling with the scent of blood that fills the air. But he is patient, as he was taught in the Climb, and his vibrant orange eyes watch the blonde with a hint of admiration and begging, that he waits for the go ahead.
Understanding the assignment, as it were, the fyrhund yips a sound, diving onto the man’s back with claws outstretched to rake and tear, teeth leaving marks into the man’s shoulders and arms and legs, everywhere where it may seem like multiple dogs (if the tracks had anything to say about it). They’re all carefully placed bites to not take a kill but to simply harbor more bleeding – on ground that’s covered by trees and mercifully left untainted by the snow in a bowl-ish shape, doing nothing but creating a bowl of blood beneath the man.
Astaroth is calculating in each bite, thanks to how familiar he is with human anatomy, tearing a bite from the man’s side as he flips him over, and with more gurgling and pained breaths, the fyrhund steps back, mouth and chest coated in blood, panting despite how he sits and swallows down the strip, orange eyes seeking out Danta to finish the job or have his fun. Whatever’s left will certainly look like an accident regardless.
Understanding the assignment, as it were, the fyrhund yips a sound, diving onto the man’s back with claws outstretched to rake and tear, teeth leaving marks into the man’s shoulders and arms and legs, everywhere where it may seem like multiple dogs (if the tracks had anything to say about it). They’re all carefully placed bites to not take a kill but to simply harbor more bleeding – on ground that’s covered by trees and mercifully left untainted by the snow in a bowl-ish shape, doing nothing but creating a bowl of blood beneath the man.
Astaroth is calculating in each bite, thanks to how familiar he is with human anatomy, tearing a bite from the man’s side as he flips him over, and with more gurgling and pained breaths, the fyrhund steps back, mouth and chest coated in blood, panting despite how he sits and swallows down the strip, orange eyes seeking out Danta to finish the job or have his fun. Whatever’s left will certainly look like an accident regardless.
Astaroth
// down below so, down below so violent //
