Odin's Prize

Trade

Ancient forest greens consumed in blood stare down at the head that lands at my half's feet.

He looks into my eyes, holding them. A flash of fang from me, a ripple of musculature showcasing the Wild within. Testing Odin with the tone of my vision, trying to bring him down like the rest of the females that surround me with the soft part of their throats angled to my teeth.

A seduction of power so great, it's hard not to split apart from it. A rush of whispers, edging at the shell of my ear, licking in a hum of sound to take what I can have.

Alpha, the chant growing louder on the wind. The extended limbs of the trees rubbing together seem to be saying what the wind wants me to hear.

Alpha

It's hard to maintain my stability.

Odin's takes the first shaky step towards my radius. He's without hesitation of strides, powerful vibrations that run up into the very marrow of my bones. This male made of flesh, sinew, and bones stands solidly in front of me.

Cheek to cheek

An inhaled breath from him, I can feel it expanding his chest against mine.

His hand runs from my neck, down the length of shifting spine. The ridge fur that was starting to stand on end settles itself down. Again and again, he does the same thing, running his hand from the base of my neck to the arch of my back. Leaning into him, taking that breath to expand tightening lungs. His dark, fertile scent violently washes within my body. A sigh outwards, with eyes that close fractionally.

My half

"Where is the third, Odin?" It's as if my words cause the wind to sway the canvas of tents. Looking around I find her. Taking myself away from his radius, inching forward, the ground holds my displeasure, vibrations tumbling outward into those around.

They shake, I rage.

Standing above her, a claw comes out from my index finger. The same bloody hand that is still holding the necklace. It's easy to lift her up to a standing position, brushing my cheek against her. Lips pressed against her ear, "I'm going to send you to the Moon as a Warrior."

She smiles with all her teeth, a real feral smile that makes me smile my War of teeth back.

The cocoon of skin opens itself up, the Wild now stands almost head height to the female who startles backward. The third meeting her death with her shoulders back, head high and a smile on her face. There is no slow or gentle bite, it's a force that spills the throat of life from the third, no recovery from the injury. The Wild sniffs once to trot away not looking back - her muzzle drips blood on the path forward, that she is creating for herself. No one is leading her on this trail she's running at a speed that is uncatchable.

There is a surging violence of energy that only the Wild within can contain, Nature's full power sinks into flesh, sinew, and bone.

Gluttony, wanting more, needing more of this feeling. Is this what the Moon herself feels when her body is full in the nighttime sky?

Power is seducing our soul with the need to keep it all for ourselves.

It's late, or at least I think it's late when we shift from fur to skin going into the tent. The light of the sun is still high in the sky.

Odin is laying down, all he does is open the fur blanket for me to slip inside.

Skin against skin

An indulgent mouth seeks to feast on my bare flesh.

He stops momentarily to place his cheek against mine, his whole body is revolting. The layering of skin, flexing, shifting, quivering.