Sunny was bleeding.
It was a strange and unpleasant thing, but he could not stem the flow of blood from his wounds.
His side was torn apart, and his forehead was cut. Blood was flowing down his face, stinging his eye. The world had turned half-red, and the shaft of his spear was slippery in his hand.
Of course, the smell of blood only made him hunger to kill his enemy more.
The only thing he regretted was that the Wolf did not shed blood, as well, despite being cut and mangled by his spear — the vile thing was a corpse, after all, and corpses rarely bled.
Sunny himself was not a corpse, but he was not in the habit of bleeding either. Today was the exception to the rule, though, because of who his enemy was. The Wolf was the epitome of a predator, and therefore, everything that it hunted was prey… was supposed to be prey.
And it was the nature of the Wolf's prey to bleed.
To be mangled, torn, and devoured.
