The characters aren't mine… etc… YAY! Part IV!

Unwilling for defeat, I jab my elbow into his stomach in a desperate attempt to cause him the pain I am experiencing, as well as humiliation. I want him to suffer.

Reaching in my back pocket, I feel promising handle of my skillfully crafted knife, a gift from a merchant who presented it to me during the war. I don't have time to wait for his recovery.

I charge, clumsily. I raise my arm to strike. The wolf grabs my wrist and twists it. Remembering the technique Rei taught me, I strenuously fling the knife into my left hand. He's surprised by the act and I swing the blade under and plunge it as deep as I can into his arm, the one holding my former weapon. With a clatter, the sword drops to the earth with a clang drowned out only by his pained howls. He keels over in agony, desperately trying to hinder the rapidly leaking blood. Sporadic bursts of anguish jump from his throat as he struggles clumsily to rise from the ground.

I aim for his heart. Another hit is attempted but this time, he ducks and the blow misses its intended target as it slides across his face, leaving a streak of red.

The wolf curses under his breath as he gasps for air. "Damn it, you're going to die a slow and painful death for this."

"Looks like I'm winning." I retort with a slight smirk.

Before he fully recovers from his kneeling position, he shoots forward, slashing the sword and cutting open the soft flesh on my stomach. He loses his balance and falls in front of me.

An exasperated twinge of pain stings at my waist. My hands rush to cover the wound but I remind myself to finish the fight before trifling myself over my own hurt. Eying the wolf struggling to regain his position, I sink my knife into his back, directly behind his heart. Satisfaction, guilt. The two merge as I strike the fallen man. He collapses at my feet with a raspy gasp. Blood cascades down his scarred back and torn clothing. I stand there, enthralled by the violence I had just committed. Confusion and clash of emotions.

Reluctantly, I bend over the ragged body and turn him on his back. His eyes are squeezed shut, teeth and fangs clenched tight through the taste of iron. Red on his lips. His chest rising and falling at an uneven rate and alarmingly rapid speed. Excruciating pain is articulated in the creases of his expression. He's dying, slowly, painfully.

Should I feel pleased? I don't. I bend down beside him, planting an exhausted arm on his torn chest, just bellow his rapidly beating heart. Sliding the sword out of his loosened grip with my other hand, I stab it into his chest once again. His eyes and mouth shoot open, him spitting out blood, drowning in it. It soaks through his sliced shirt and his chest freezes in mid-breath. Both of us are now drenched in our own blood as well as each others'.

I stumble over to Zane. Just before I reach him, I give in to the hurt and strain and exhaustion as I crumple to the floor. I reach my hand forward and pull myself over to his body. I lie next to him, just to feel his dying warmth and I drape his limp arm around my shoulders and wrap my arms around him. I just want to rest here, a while. Just for a little.

How was this chapter? Any comments? Suggestions? Please R&R. If you don't like it, please tell me and if you did, please tell me as well.