Howling in the Streets{M} DamoniquexBrokecollege

[Damonique]

Khlia Mane was rarely taken so utterly by surprise...most of her life, all she had to do was rely on scent and sound and the barest prickle of hairs rising at the nape of her neck to see a threat coming from far away, and end it with prejudice when it finally appeared. But the smell of human no longer registered after so long living in the midst of them. Humans were slow, they were weak, they could hardly smell and hardly hear and couldn't even stomach raw meat anymore, making them nothing more than unappealing prey.

But just one of them, armed, at just the wrong moment turned momentary misstep into disaster in a heartbeat. A deafening bang, a bright flash, the acrid smell of gunsmoke mingling with fresh-spilled blood, very distinctly Evertail-blood, and Kellan's panicked shouting told her it was Elisabeth's other brave, Foster, who had caught the buckshot. It was bad, he said, and from the quantity alone Khlia could tell it was an understatement, neither man's hands doing much to staunch the flow. Torso, left side, low. Nasty wound. Likely as not, the warrior had a perforated stomach and would be dead by daybreak.

She loosed another string of curses as she looked upon his face, twisted into a grimace of shock and pain. A crying shame it had to be Foster, with his hair afire, his smart mouth, and the handsome face that made it somehow endearing...Khlia had been looking forward to ending the night savoring the taste of their enemies blood off that one's lips. And worse than that, these warriors had been a gift from her hunt-sister, a token of the young lieutenant's trust and a misplaced but...deeply touching concern for the Mane Twins.

Elisabeth, who loved as fiercely as she fought, and above all loved the warriors under her command, as if they were of her own blood...if Lucent truly meant to join her blood to theirs, Khlia could do no less herself, and stayed her strong hands from delivering the sharp twist followed by silence that would have been the Gift of Mercy to a mortally wounded warrior. There might still be time to save him....if she bought it. First things first, she struck the still-shocked Kellan sharply across the face with the back of her hand, to get him back into action.

Second, she took care of the impudent human that had interfered in affairs he should have left alone, turning to the lit doorway with a snarl, diving left to avoid the hurried second shot he fired, turning Wolf mid-roll, then leaping to ride him down, tearing out his throat. In a flash, she was in human-shape again, fresh blood still covering her lips and chin as she barked her orders.

"Kellan, Caine." She named the Evertail man and her own blonde-headed elite bluntly. "Go. Carry him, the rest will guard you. Make the bridge, steal a car, get him to Brother. Fast. Fast. Might be he'll live." As her words sank in, there were voices and growls of dissent that Khlia fixed with a glare, her meaning clear. The howling and baying of Redmoon wolves drawing closer left no time for dissent. This was not a debate. They would all go. And she would stay, and face them, and either win, or die. As was her way.

[brokecollege]

Foster's blood-soaked Kellan's hand as he desperately tried to apply pressure to the wound. But no amount of pressure was enough, and Kellan knew it wouldn't be long before not even a healer could help. His helpless gaze met Khlia's as she approached, though it was quickly replaced by a look of surprise upon being slapped by her. He shook his head a bit, the sharp stinging in his cheek somehow calming him some.
Then, Khlia turned to face the human, who stood some ways away just as surprised as they were. Khlia moved to approach the human, easily dodging an aimed shot before proceeding to shift and tear out his throat. It was a sight that Kellan relished--and Foster would have too, if not for the fact that he was barely conscious. With the human dead and twitching on the ground, Khlia returned to her human form and began to give orders.
They were to cross the bridge, steal a car, and return to her brother. And if they did all of that fast enough, Foster just might make it. Distant howling caught Kellan's attention, and he briefly glanced in the direction they'd come from. He knew by Khlia's orders that she intended to stay and fight. She was a fierce warrior, damn near obsessed with the fight and all the blood that came with it. He had no doubt that she could hold herself against their enemies.
He just didn't know for how long she'd be able to do it. But, still, he'd been given orders and he sure as hell wasn't going to go against them. With the help of Caine, they ran off with Foster in their arms. The next twenty minutes were nothing if not chaotic--a bunch of naked and bloodied men running around what looked to be a suburban neighborhood, waking up family dogs and causing at least two car alarms to sound. But eventually, they found a car and were racing down the street at what felt like the speed of light. By the time they arrived in Mane territory, Foster had passed out. He was limp and pale--but still breathing. With Caine's aid, Kellan dragged his friend's limp body out of the car.
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Something wasn't right. Bryant's howl had only been responded to by Grigori and his men. Khlia and the others were nowhere to be found--not even a howl had been heard from them. It could be that Khlia and her men were overwhelmed. Bryant would have been himself, had Grigori and his detachment not shown up to lend aid. For that reason, it was decided that they would head deeper into Redmoon territory. If Khlia and her men truly had been overrun, then they wouldn't make it without help.
They aimed to comb the area as they went, which would hopefully lead to a scent that they could track. And for the most part, it worked out pretty well. Grigori managed to catch the very faint scent of his leader--but it was all that Grigori needed. With a deep howl, he began to follow the scent. Bryant and his men fanned out and followed.
As Khlia's scent grew stronger, so too did the familiar sounds of fighting, and it wasn't long before they were deeply embroiled in a battle. There had to be at least a dozen wolves--reinforcements for the Redmoons, no doubt. Luckily for them, Khlia Mane stood at the center of it all. And so they fought, killing as many wolves as they could as quickly as they could. A few of their own men fell in the process--a couple just from their wounds, and a couple because of death. But they faired far better in comparison to the Redmoon reinforcements, who fell dead one after the other.