Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I've got to be where my spirit can run free
Got to find my corner of the sky
Fenris glared menacingly at the woman, who pointed the 12 gauge shotgun straight at his head, the flashlight sitting at her feet as it had been dropped in horror. Blood dripped from his maw and a growl emitted from his throat as he stood over the mangled carcass of another wolf, who sported a greyish/white hue. In the back of his mind, he kept thinking, Shoot me.. do it.. you're not gonna do it.. he watched her carefully, noticing some bit of quivering here and there.
The area was dead quiet as the two had their little showdown, both entirely too afraid to make a run for it. If the wolf ran, she'd most likely pull the trigger and he'd be just as dead as his own victim. If the human ran, he'd probably attack her on the spot and claim his second victim that night. Nothing good coming from either scenario. So the two would just... glare at each other, neither one speaking nor moving. After a few moments, the wolf finally climbed over the dead kinsman and growled more, the crimson nectar still dripping from his chin.
Do it. a voice rang out from somewhere in the forest nearby. It couldn't be the wolf, right? He didn't even move his lips. And he's a wolf.. an animal. He can't talk... right?