A terror-inducing, thick blanket of lupitoxins surround your senses, the cressending growl under the Borisin Warhead's guttural vibration of his saliva-laced mouth in a threatening hunger. You were weak. At this very hour, your body was crying out an audible scream of exhaustion -- the visible pained shivers of movement cried out for your mercy, making the borisin general only deepen his gruesome laugh of apathy. He feasted in your moment of terror, no. He reveled in your fear.

The terrified expressions, the feigned movements, he savor each ending second of it -- the mere sickly gloom of fear in the air made him shiver in delight; It drove him, gossiped through his wolven ears of dark, cruel intentions... It turned him on. To that of a flickering light bulb. A malicious, guttural chuckle pitifully came out of his canine teeth, a jade mask, an cold unfeeling scrap of metal doing absolutely nothing to restrain his unsympathetic chuckling of cruel interest. The warhead's voice grew closer to your ears, his gruesome words came out like a distasteful growl, his silk white wolven fur grazed your exposed skin around your hands in a twisted manner, like he intended it.

"Secrets are a weapon that a hunter cannot live without. Those that bear no secrets, are nothing more than prey -- cut open, and waiting for death."

A purposeful sniff silently crept by your shoulder, his eyes filled with a concealed rage, a satisfied, interested hum peered through his teeth.