ISAR
Arm yourself
Thoughts came grudgingly to the hound. Like dredging through mud, whatever passed through the hunger came out warped and sullied. A low whine was in his throat while the woman contemplated. The wait was torture. Every moment an eternity of ravenous emptiness, of thorny vines dragging through every vein of the massive body. There was so much space to fill.
He was on his feet in an instant when Kiada shifted. Drool was a torrent of molten rock dripping from his jaws and the impact of the bloodlust was as a warhammer to the head. Physically staggering with the internal struggle between leaping at the lial and holding himself back, the fyrhund shook his head, followed in her fiery wake up on the ridge – and caught sight of the figures moving through the heat haze.
All thoughts ended there. There was a mad frenzy over the way the rangy, emaciated creature rushed the closest Fyrhund. Starvation incarnate, the kind of nauseating, blind devouring need that sapped strength away and numbed all capacity towards mercy or self preservation.
Compared to the wild creature, Isar was thin and scrawny. Nevertheless he charged in with ferocity and went in for its throat like a hound might a bear. Initially it balked in surprise at the sudden assault, but then a snarl rumbled like thunder as it retaliated.
Massive paws slammed the newly made Ancient to the ground. A yelp of pain tore from him; but he was struggling to get up again in a blur of movement, heedless of the way his ribs groaned, and leaped again. Closing burning jaws around a leg of solidified rock and furnace blood that sang like sweet wine on the tongue. He had never tasted anything so sweet - and the craving for more rose like a keening in his ears, into a si gel, vibrating point of focus that wiped out every other sensation.
He was on his feet in an instant when Kiada shifted. Drool was a torrent of molten rock dripping from his jaws and the impact of the bloodlust was as a warhammer to the head. Physically staggering with the internal struggle between leaping at the lial and holding himself back, the fyrhund shook his head, followed in her fiery wake up on the ridge – and caught sight of the figures moving through the heat haze.
All thoughts ended there. There was a mad frenzy over the way the rangy, emaciated creature rushed the closest Fyrhund. Starvation incarnate, the kind of nauseating, blind devouring need that sapped strength away and numbed all capacity towards mercy or self preservation.
Compared to the wild creature, Isar was thin and scrawny. Nevertheless he charged in with ferocity and went in for its throat like a hound might a bear. Initially it balked in surprise at the sudden assault, but then a snarl rumbled like thunder as it retaliated.
Massive paws slammed the newly made Ancient to the ground. A yelp of pain tore from him; but he was struggling to get up again in a blur of movement, heedless of the way his ribs groaned, and leaped again. Closing burning jaws around a leg of solidified rock and furnace blood that sang like sweet wine on the tongue. He had never tasted anything so sweet - and the craving for more rose like a keening in his ears, into a si gel, vibrating point of focus that wiped out every other sensation.
Because no one else here will save you
