Theo Thursday Pt. 2 - Prayers to Casastan

 :: Casaday Evening, the 92nd of Jhyel's Slumber ::

Theodore's eyes grew wide as he heard the bestial snarl that knifed through the thin fabric of the tent.

               

Reaching a slightly shaking hand towards Saw, Theo shook him.  Waking with a quiet snort, Saw's eyes were transfigured by terror as the horrific noises reached his ears.

Reaching for the tent flap that was now transformed from a simple egress into a portal of danger, Theo grabbed his rapier and knife belt as silently as he could.

"Stay here Saw, you'll probably just get under foot.” whispered Theo as he put a tight rein on his own fear.

Tendrils of fog danced around the legs of the wolves as they circled the tent.  Theo could read the lean winter in their eyes.  Every aspect of the animals showed how harsh the cold season had been; the lackluster fur, the skin stretched tight over hungry ribs, and most of all, the feral emaciated eyes which told the scurry that mercy would be neither asked, nor given.

The passionate ballet of savagery began, the scurry was fluid in his motions against the grey fur and gnashing teeth, the teeth which seemed to materialize out of nowhere, the fog concealing the wolves to perfection.

Comfortably gripping his rapier in his right hand while holding a throwing knife in his left, Theo assumed the relaxed stance of a natural swordsman.

"You won't find me an easy meal, wolves” snarled Theo through gritted teeth.     

A howl that shattered the night into dark, jagged pieces was the only response.

A wolf the color of ashes lunged from the shadows, fog peeling away from him like a second skin.  With little time to react, Theo rolled beneath the dark form and opened a long gash along its belly.  The leaden colored wolf, seemingly in a great deal of pain, landed heavily on it's front paws.  Weakened, the wolf crashed to the ground and lay still.

Coming out of his roll without a wasted motion, Theo let loose a throwing knife into the throat of an oncoming wolf, whose eyes glowed blood red.  The momentum still carrying it forward, the dying wolf plowed into the nimble scurry.

Theo's lower body was sprayed with blood as the throwing knife was wrenched loose from the wolf's throat by the jarring collision.

"Disgusting!  It will take weeks to get this out of my fur.” Theo grimly muttered to himself in black humor, unable to stop the words despite the grisly situation.

The mist slowly folded away to Theo's right to show a set of knife-sharp teeth, glowing white hot under Poen's gleaming eye. 

"Aaargh” exclaimed Theo, as a gash was opened on his right hand, his sword hand.  The hilt of Theo's rapier became slick as the blood flowed, unhindered out of the vicious wound.

"...ipe” responded the wolf, as Theo pounded the rapier guard down onto the grey and white mottled fur of the wolf's snout.  The wolf turned and sprinted from the skirmish.

"Of all the places to bite me, my sword hand, my sword hand!  I hope the miserable wretch dies a horrid death!” said Theo to himself, trying to comfort himself as his hand throbbed and began to go numb.

Just as Theo was saying this, an inky shape loomed up from the murky gloom.  Its ebony body, silhouetted against the bright white fog, was at least twice as big as the other wolves, maybe larger.  Foam and blood flecked it's muzzle and it's eyes gleamed with a thirsty malice.  The wolf's gaze seemed to buzz.

"Casastan preserve...” gasped Theo...