Seri's Story

Hubert's eyes shot open wide, muscles tensing around his neck as Snow went for Arman.

He'd known that man.

Though he'd never liked him, never got along, thought he was this surly old creep, he had spoken to him, to an extent, hunt out with him, got used to his mannerisms. He'd becoming a thing in his life. And now, suddenly, he'd be missing. He'd have to deal with that from here. Someone he'd known was going to die right in front of him.

A necessary sacrifice, but a grim one.

No joke this time.

Ulrich gave a glance to Hubert. A short one, but it was enough to see the look on his face and hit him with a pang of guilt. However, there were more pressing matters than Hubert's distress.

The man had long since shut himself off from things like this. Though, in the back on his mind, he knew there was both distaste... and a riveting, heart pounding thrill. Morbid fascination was always among Ulrich's faults. A hidden one, at that. Beneath that constantly tired and apathetic expression were darker things.

So, without a moment of hesitation from the kill order, Ulrich lurched forward, teeth bared, thirsty. Ravenous.

Two more furred forms moved in unison, Desmond sweeping in from the side while Bastien hurtled himself at Arman's exposed back. The larger of the two, Desmond, came in low, his jaws snapped closed on air and falling short scant inches from disemboweling the rogue in a single swift strike.

Bastien meanwhile slammed into Arman from behind as he threw his full weight into the larger werewolf, jaws snapping closed like a steel trap as he sought to get a grip on the rogue's shoulder to ride him the ground beneath his weight.

Arman might hold his own long enough to fling some of them away, but with the weight of the pack bearing down on him with gnashing teeth, it was only a matter of time. It would not be a swift death though. No, he would be rend and torn from all sides as he was fought over like a scrap of meat... savaged like his victims had been. Each bite of torn flesh, each drop of lost blood would weaken him further until he hadn't the energy to fight them anymore. And when he faltered, there would be no mercy, no hesitation.

Arman’s howl of protest did not leave his mouth. Before he could even turn to attempt to run - having finally let go of that smallest amount of hope which had glimmered especially bright when Cass and Baron had been conversing – a furry wall of white collided with him. The first of many.

He was almost down instantly in a spray of blood as teeth tore at the area near his throat. Being met from behind assured this, he fell to a knee, new pain blossoming as something else slammed into him, taking hold of his shoulder with sharpness. Now noises slipped out of his mouth; startled gargles and grunts. Rather feebly, he struggled. Nasty clawed hands grabbing out, seeking targets in the eyes of the attackers. His teeth too, broken as they were, hunted for a mark.

Brendan prowled, circled, watching for escape routes, backing up and jumping in to fill in weaker sides. A growl rumbled deep within as he did so.

Cass hadn’t taken her eyes off Baron. She watched him still, the sound of the torture told her that she did not want to see it. She daren’t meet the eyes of her fellows, for she was scared of what she’d see; disappointment, horror, disgust, shame…

Injuring one, two, three… it didn’t matter. Arman had evaded some attacks and handed out some damages. But he was lost. His fist had been closed, trying to pummel, the fingers loosened now as he slid further and further into ultimate defeat, closer and closer to complete collapse.

His back hit the ground, and still it came, the pain. Blood trickled into his eyes, blinded him.

Arman's claws raked across Snow's pelt, drawing blood and forcing him to dart backwards for a moment whilst the others closed in to avoid a more serious wound. But he wasn't slowed, coming straight back in on the flank to bite down hard on his arm, shaking his head back and forth to rip at the flesh before retreating again away from flailing claws.

He circled around as Arman grew more and more exhausted from the assault, going for the leg, the side - any opening available. His packmates did the same.

Then the bulky werewolf fell, and his struggles grew feeble. Snow closed in for the kill. His jaw clamped closed around Arman's throat and he tore at it, splattering blood that stained his fur crimson.

Above them, Seri continued to watch. He did not turn away like Cass had. His eyes were narrowed with malice.

He himself wasn't sure whether it was simple sadism or some sort of sense of justice that meant that, far from being disgusted by the gory scene before him, he found it enthralling. He'd seen brutal displays of savagery before, but only after the fact. He'd not made a habit of being around to watch.

It was... odd, watching a man who'd spoken to him in the misguided belief that they were, if not friends, companions, only weeks before get torn apart viscerally before his eyes. But he wasn't upset by it. It was ... satisfying.

Were it not for him being transformed, it would have been clear that he was smiling.

As it was, there was a wicked glint in his golden eyes, as the wolves went in for the kill.

Teeth rend and tore at Arman as his back hit the ground, and Desmond swept in with his own fangs seeking out Arman's now exposed stomach. Snarls filled the night as Bastien jerked and tore at Arman's shoulder, adding leverage against Desmond's own bite.

Steaming entrails hit the dirt as Arman's abdominal cavity was torn wide open, and the only signs of life that remained where the gurgling gasps of his twitching body before that too fell silent beneath the vice grip of Snow's jaws around his throat.

And still they tore at him, snapping and snarling as his limp, lifeless body was jerked and pulled between them.

It was several minutes after the last sign of life had slipped from Arman's body before the last of them finally backed away from it.

Through it all, Baron's eyes had never left Cass' own. She would find not a shred of remorse within them as he stood there unflinching, unwavering at the brutality that had been enacted not yards from them. Within his eyes, Arman had become nothing more than an animal to be put down.

At last though it was over, and a silence hung over the wood.

Hubert quivered as he watched, limbs frozen, eyes wide and unblinking, as though they'd been pulled back by pins. The spray of viscera streaked red across his vision, and he flinched back, pitifully crying out in a high whine. He opened his eyes just in time for the last of it.

To see them covered in bits of Arman.

Arman.

He knew that man.

Now that man was everywhere. He didn't think he had the power to move. To walk. His stomach swirled. Sickening him even more, the urge he'd been fighting to join them. He stumbled on his feet, but his eyes caught Ulrich's at the last moment. He didn't see a man there. Not one trace of it, not in any of them. All he saw was the animal.

The fright gave his limbs strength, and with a yelp he shot off into the woods blindly, his heart pumping like a helpless creature beneath it's worst nightmare.

It went on for far, far too long a time.

Cass still did not drop Baron’s gaze when a splatter of guts hit her bare skin. Even when she heard a yelp followed by the padfalls of a gait which she recognised as Hubert’s, she didn’t move.

She’d had some idea of what to expect. But the brutality, the animalistic manner… She had not been prepared for. And definitely, neither had Hubert. Pressing her lips together, she arranged herself as to not make it obvious that she wanted to take flight right now and piece back together what was left of the werewolves of the Phantom Quarter.

With the show over, Brendan turned his attention to Baron and Cass who were stood in silent confrontation. He was sympathetic to a point, but it was hard to feel wholly sorry for the woman who had remained so ignorant, who had been so passive and let so many awful things happen.

Finally, Cass broke their competition by looking about the area, searching for Michel, Seri, to see if Hubert was anywhere near with a sweep of her head. There was some embarrassment. She couldn’t see anything, though she felt that Seri was nearby. She itched to get going, to attempt to mend.

Alone. Naked; literally, figuratively. And surrounded.

“We need to talk more.”

Whilst others of the pack had given in to their primal and feral sides, after delivering his fatal bite to the throat, Snow had retreated back from the dying Arman, leaving the others to savage him. The sight was not pleasant, but he did not show his disgust. He padded calmly to the edge of the rise, not far from where Baron and Cass were talking, and waited to follow Baron's lead.

As gruesome as the scene below him became, Seri did not take his eyes off of it. When it was done, he sat in place for several long moments, looking down at the tattered remnants of Arman. Finally, his eyes snapped to Cass and Baron. What came of the Runts now, he wondered?

That was in Baron's hands, it seemed. He grimaced. He hoped he hadn't traded their freedom from one menace off for another.

The hardness of Baron's eyes did not abate as Cass looked away at last, and in fact only grew darker at her response to the situation.

He had asked her for hunters, and she brought children and a man who had never seen violence in his life from the look of things.

"All of you, get back to the city," he instructed his pack. "Except you," he told Snow. "You stay."

Cass was indeed right, they needed to talk. And he intended to do it right here, and right now. What better place than here, with the mark of her failure dead not yards from where they stood. His blood still fresh, and the consequences of her actions heavy on the air.

By Baron’s authority they’d be left alone. Or, alone enough.

The white wolf, who she guessed was the werewolf in next highest position after Baron out of those present, had been so fast to attack. She regarded him quickly, warily.

She caught sight of Seri and found herself staring blankly. Her emotions were mixed. It had been he who took the step to leading the pack in their direction. Obviously with good intentions. But were they really any better off? Before, they had been subject to torment by one crazy werewolf. Now they were under the subtle dictatorship of another - so she thought.

“What happens now?” Cass asked, making sure that she sounded cool by ignoring the bloody mess across the forest floor and their own skins. She realised that she was in no place to make any demands, only suggestions.

As the others moved off, Snow watched them descend the slope before he surrendered the wolf form. His transformation was surprisingly graceful for those used to watching werewolves shift. The cracking and wrenching sounds of his bones altering their shape and formation were brief, and the process relatively smooth. He rose up onto his hind legs and straightened in a single gradual movement. His white fur receded, until what was left formed his thick head of hair. He let out a sigh, and opened his eyes - they alone, aside from the strange colour of his hair, retained their wolflike quality, yellow and bright. The whole process took no longer than fifteen seconds.

He turned his gaze to Cass and Baron, still devoid of any prominent emotion despite the ferocity of the display mere moments before. Blood stained his hair and skin, notably around his mouth. He refrained from speaking for the time being, letting Baron take the lead.

Seri met Cass's eyes from his perch. It was difficult to read him due to his shift denying Cass recognisable facial expression, but he showed no signs of discomfort or alarm. He made no move to leave his perch, either.

So many words of criticism came to Baron, so many reprimands and condemnations, and Cass could see it all flashing through his eyes as he stared her down. But the words never came.

Baron knew she knew it all.

He didn't need to tell her how thoroughly she had made a mess of things. The city was in an uproar over the death of the boy in Lupaix, her own pack was in chaos and disarray... no not her pack. He had given her that opportunity, but she didn't step up to it. They where a pack of misfits with no leadership. It was only a matter of time before another disaster struck.

"I'm extending my territory into the Phantom Quarter," he informed her. "You have two choices. Disband your pack, or fall in with mine."

There was no room for debate within him on the matter. Too many had suffered at the hands of this woman's mistakes already.