Post by Phoenix on Oct 25, 2012 21:58:07 GMT -5
If Noblepaw had met Demon on his own... Predictably, rather violent, so be forewarned.
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It was barely a moment's notice, but in that instant, he had begun to draw back rapidly, sensing the on coming attack. A paw came up under his jaw, knocking his head back with a sickening crack. He could not make a sound as he fell backward from the force of the blow. A choked scream caught in his throat as his injured hind leg caught under him, and he managed to twist to the side. Once more, the landing knocked the breath from his lungs, but he could not be too bothered by it. The lack of control he had over his limbs provided a greater source of worry, and panic gripped his heart. He could feel them resting on top of each other, as heavy as stones, while he lay there, gasping and panting for breath. But he seemed to have lost control over them. A cold filled him, replacing the fiery distress, as he realized that he could only wait there, immobilized and helpless, at the complete mercy of his hunter.
But he did not have to wait long. In a mockery of the gentleness a mother would use to nudge her young closer to her, he as felt a large paw roll him over onto his back. He felt sick. Unable to resist, his left legs flopped over, hitting the other ground and causing a dull pain to shoot up his leg. And then nothing happened.
Suddenly, the very same large paws pressed down on him, all gentleness gone from them. Hooked claws pressed down into his shoulders, the pressure suffocating, but not enough to break bones. The cold foreboding that had seeped throughout his body cracked under the strain of the pure terror that battered against it. As breathing became even more of a struggle, the icy cold began to evaporate, and his instinct told him to get up and flee. In his inability to do so, his distress became more vocal, as whimpers and cries left his maw, broken only by heavy panting and choked sobs. He had more to do with his life. He had to become a warrior. He had a competition to win. He had to start a family of his own. He had to prove that he was the best. And he did not want to be remembered as the foolish apprentice who had finally paid for his pride.
Warmth breath spread across his face, and he could almost imagine the grin that existed on the lips of the hunter as he stared into his prey's broken, bleeding face. Blank eyes remained wide open, staring back into the predator's face, yet they saw nothing but darkness. He could feel the mocking gaze drilling into him, and no matter how much he tried, he could do nothing about it. The cold that had spread across his body was replaced with something indescribable. It was not cold, but it was not warm. Simply, it was there. I am going to die. And there is nothing I can do about it.
Jaws parted and settled themselves around his neck, teeth resting on either side of his bloody throat. He kept his eyes open, staring straight ahead into the depths of the darkness. A twinge of sadness hit him, a twinge of regret. Fangs dug into the side of his throat, and a sharp gasp escaped his jaws as they tore sideways. He could feel his blood draining onto the ground, flowing steadily from his body just like his strength.
"That is is how you do eet, leetle cub."[/color][/div][/center]
Just as his paws left the branch, the lynx reared up on its hind legs, displaying its full height and might. A paw, adorned with hooked claws, came swinging at his face, and he was given a moment to stare blankly at the large talons before they connected with his face.
He had felt the blow, and he had felt the dagger-like weapons sinking into his flesh. But the pain he had expected from the attack did not come. Air was expelled forcefully from his lungs as his body hit the ground, and he lay there, stunned. Another blow landed directly by his head, and he flinched away violently, settling on his side and gasping from the effort. While he tried to regain his breath, gasping for air, he became conscious of the blood flowing down his face. The thick, warm liquid soaked his fur, and the air felt cold on his newly opened wounds, creating a rather unpleasant stinging sensation. He winced, and the stinging sensation turned into a blaze of agony as his nerve endings woke up once more.
An savage shriek escaped his jaws, and his eyes snapped wide open. Through his haze of pain, he realized with a jolt that he could not see. He was stuck in a black world of fiery pain. Panic raced through his veins, the pure fear propelling him to his paws as if something had stung him. A head swung back and forth, the gray and white fur barely visible under the layer of red. Unsheathed claws dug into the ground for stability as he shook his head back and forth with a force that nearly drove his skull from his neck. Whimpers began to escape his jaws as he realized what must have happened. Panicked whimpers. Pathetic whimpers that would have shattered any mother's heart. It couldn't be! Paws batted blindly at his face, as he twisted and turned, trying to remove the blood that must be preventing his sight. Something hit him in the side, right behind his foreleg, and breathing suddenly became considerably more painful. Instinctively, he turned his stumble and fall into a roll, shifting so that he moved with the force of the blow from his invisible hunter. It would have made his mentor proud.
Giving him extra energy, the adrenaline pumped through him and his instincts took over. Ears listened intently to his surroundings, trying to pick out the sound of an approaching lynx over the frantic tattoo of his heart, whose thuds he could feel resonating throughout his own body. Head swung side to side with barely controlled panic, and the fur along his spine bristled as he whipped around, trying to find the lynx. His muscles were tense, ready to spring the instant he thought he sensed something. He's playing with me. But he was up against the master, a predator who had seasons of hunting experience on his side. He was not ready when the paw connected with his hind leg, which buckled under the blow. Sharp claws dug into the flesh, stopping only when they hit bone. Another cry escaped him, ending in another choked off whimper as he turned despite the pain. He had to land a blow while he knew the location of his opponent.
He could barely breathe as he blindly lashed out with his forepaws, armed with pathetically short claws that paled in comparison to the impressive ones that the larger cat had. Even without seeing it, he could tell that his movements were no longer those of the graceful fighting style he had begun to develop and nurse. They were panicked and desperate, completely uncontrolled and frantic. A cold, deep chuckle reached his ears in response, sending a shiver down his spine while igniting his ire. Claws lashed out with more force, and he could sense the other feline dancing just beyond his reach. A growl escaped his clenched jaws, eliciting another chortle in response.
"Watch and learn, leetle cub."
He had felt the blow, and he had felt the dagger-like weapons sinking into his flesh. But the pain he had expected from the attack did not come. Air was expelled forcefully from his lungs as his body hit the ground, and he lay there, stunned. Another blow landed directly by his head, and he flinched away violently, settling on his side and gasping from the effort. While he tried to regain his breath, gasping for air, he became conscious of the blood flowing down his face. The thick, warm liquid soaked his fur, and the air felt cold on his newly opened wounds, creating a rather unpleasant stinging sensation. He winced, and the stinging sensation turned into a blaze of agony as his nerve endings woke up once more.
An savage shriek escaped his jaws, and his eyes snapped wide open. Through his haze of pain, he realized with a jolt that he could not see. He was stuck in a black world of fiery pain. Panic raced through his veins, the pure fear propelling him to his paws as if something had stung him. A head swung back and forth, the gray and white fur barely visible under the layer of red. Unsheathed claws dug into the ground for stability as he shook his head back and forth with a force that nearly drove his skull from his neck. Whimpers began to escape his jaws as he realized what must have happened. Panicked whimpers. Pathetic whimpers that would have shattered any mother's heart. It couldn't be! Paws batted blindly at his face, as he twisted and turned, trying to remove the blood that must be preventing his sight. Something hit him in the side, right behind his foreleg, and breathing suddenly became considerably more painful. Instinctively, he turned his stumble and fall into a roll, shifting so that he moved with the force of the blow from his invisible hunter. It would have made his mentor proud.
Giving him extra energy, the adrenaline pumped through him and his instincts took over. Ears listened intently to his surroundings, trying to pick out the sound of an approaching lynx over the frantic tattoo of his heart, whose thuds he could feel resonating throughout his own body. Head swung side to side with barely controlled panic, and the fur along his spine bristled as he whipped around, trying to find the lynx. His muscles were tense, ready to spring the instant he thought he sensed something. He's playing with me. But he was up against the master, a predator who had seasons of hunting experience on his side. He was not ready when the paw connected with his hind leg, which buckled under the blow. Sharp claws dug into the flesh, stopping only when they hit bone. Another cry escaped him, ending in another choked off whimper as he turned despite the pain. He had to land a blow while he knew the location of his opponent.
He could barely breathe as he blindly lashed out with his forepaws, armed with pathetically short claws that paled in comparison to the impressive ones that the larger cat had. Even without seeing it, he could tell that his movements were no longer those of the graceful fighting style he had begun to develop and nurse. They were panicked and desperate, completely uncontrolled and frantic. A cold, deep chuckle reached his ears in response, sending a shiver down his spine while igniting his ire. Claws lashed out with more force, and he could sense the other feline dancing just beyond his reach. A growl escaped his clenched jaws, eliciting another chortle in response.
"Watch and learn, leetle cub."
It was barely a moment's notice, but in that instant, he had begun to draw back rapidly, sensing the on coming attack. A paw came up under his jaw, knocking his head back with a sickening crack. He could not make a sound as he fell backward from the force of the blow. A choked scream caught in his throat as his injured hind leg caught under him, and he managed to twist to the side. Once more, the landing knocked the breath from his lungs, but he could not be too bothered by it. The lack of control he had over his limbs provided a greater source of worry, and panic gripped his heart. He could feel them resting on top of each other, as heavy as stones, while he lay there, gasping and panting for breath. But he seemed to have lost control over them. A cold filled him, replacing the fiery distress, as he realized that he could only wait there, immobilized and helpless, at the complete mercy of his hunter.
But he did not have to wait long. In a mockery of the gentleness a mother would use to nudge her young closer to her, he as felt a large paw roll him over onto his back. He felt sick. Unable to resist, his left legs flopped over, hitting the other ground and causing a dull pain to shoot up his leg. And then nothing happened.
Suddenly, the very same large paws pressed down on him, all gentleness gone from them. Hooked claws pressed down into his shoulders, the pressure suffocating, but not enough to break bones. The cold foreboding that had seeped throughout his body cracked under the strain of the pure terror that battered against it. As breathing became even more of a struggle, the icy cold began to evaporate, and his instinct told him to get up and flee. In his inability to do so, his distress became more vocal, as whimpers and cries left his maw, broken only by heavy panting and choked sobs. He had more to do with his life. He had to become a warrior. He had a competition to win. He had to start a family of his own. He had to prove that he was the best. And he did not want to be remembered as the foolish apprentice who had finally paid for his pride.
Warmth breath spread across his face, and he could almost imagine the grin that existed on the lips of the hunter as he stared into his prey's broken, bleeding face. Blank eyes remained wide open, staring back into the predator's face, yet they saw nothing but darkness. He could feel the mocking gaze drilling into him, and no matter how much he tried, he could do nothing about it. The cold that had spread across his body was replaced with something indescribable. It was not cold, but it was not warm. Simply, it was there. I am going to die. And there is nothing I can do about it.
Jaws parted and settled themselves around his neck, teeth resting on either side of his bloody throat. He kept his eyes open, staring straight ahead into the depths of the darkness. A twinge of sadness hit him, a twinge of regret. Fangs dug into the side of his throat, and a sharp gasp escaped his jaws as they tore sideways. He could feel his blood draining onto the ground, flowing steadily from his body just like his strength.
"That is is how you do eet, leetle cub."[/color][/div][/center]