The fangs that descend from her teeth are hungry to the taste of blood...his blood. Her body tenses, ready to lunge at the vein pulsating rapidly down the clown's throat. Adrenaline courses through him - he is not scared...he is excited. Ears pinned and ready for the fight to ensue - he would kill her then go for the child. But then, another, a familiar scent, and the two are forced to stop.
The deep authoritative voice that emerges from behind the clown does not frighten him. Mortem is all too aware of who looms behind, and his cranium moves slowly to gaze behind him. The wraith king, always watching, always there. The child before the group must be one of Gryffen's many, and a twisted grin tugs at the edges of the ebony stallion's lips. If the child wasn't worthy, he knew what would happen.
A step away from the alabaster stag as he approaches, and the unknown mare allows Gryffen to take a closer look. The child could satisfy...it could not. Mortem intended to find out, and destroy him if need-be. It was only a matter of time...
Modicum Mortem
They all float…