The 16-year-old werewolf known as Jetta Silverbaine stared down dispassionately at the fallen form that had been the former Alpha of their clan; her father, Brendan, “The Betrayer.”
It hadn’t been too hard to find the bastard. He had been on the run for more than a little while. It was even thought ‘odd’ that he wasn’t outright attacking anyone. He was just running.
And that was another thing that told Jetta something was wrong with him. He was just running. No aura of burning hellfire, no levitation like a god descending upon the earth, no sparks of magic flickering off now and again, causing small forest fires... Just a scared man running as though his life depended on it.
Many others of the werewolf clans, adults, just tried to steer clear. They had seen him fight and were still scared, and these facts of how Brendan was acting wasn’t registering in their minds. It did in hers though, and she took off after the bastard.
It didn’t take her long to catch up. Brendan had apparently been running for a longer time than she had, and he was already out of breath when she had just started chasing him. She caught the man in a tackle, intent on getting her revenge. The man, no, monster had almost let Xerxes, the head of the werecheetah clan, kill her and then taunted her when she had killed Xerxes with her own claws to save her life!
Basically, Jetta had a lot of anger to work out on that son of a bitch who’d dare call himself her father.
However, the idea of getting revenge was easier said than done. Brendan was still more than a match for Jetta, and knew her skills inside and out. After all, he had been the one to teach her everything she knew. And he had the advantage of age and experience on his side. Jetta wouldn’t say he had wisdom. He was never wise.
Still, Jetta had two important things going for her at that moment. She had youth and an intense burning rage that was only going to be quenched by Brendan’s blood.
And when the bastard goaded her, taunted her with how he’d make sure she joined her mother in hell... Something inside the young werewolf snapped and gave the bastard everything he had coming, with interest.
That was what lead to this point. Jetta stood victorious over her father who was on the ground an absolute mess.
Bruised.
Beaten.
Bloody.
Broken.
Utterly defeated was the only way to truly describe the state that Brendan was after his daughter unleashed all her rage upon his sorry ass.
Walking over to the downed adult werewolf, Jetta stared down at him hatefully. “Why?” She growled out angrily.
Grunting in pain as he moved his head, Brendan looked up at his daughter through one eye, his other swollen shut from being beaten so badly. “Why what?” He asked in a condescending, mocking tone.
Gritting her teeth as to keep from screaming her head off and just tearing the bastard limb from limb, Jetta trembled a little and asked, in a stronger voice, “Why? Why did you do all this? We were supposed to go together in peace to the Retreat, we would have no longer had to worry about anything!” Growling, Jetta’s eyes flashed with hatred as she screamed, “WHY DID YOU DAMN US, BETRAYER!?”
Chuckling a little, Brendan just looked up at his daughter, the victor over him, with his one good eye. “I told you before... Ask your mother.”
With a howl of frustration, Jetta kicked Brendan across the jaw, hard. There was an audible, sickening crack. It made her feel good to hear the howl of pain that escaped past Brendan’s lips.
However, it was then Jetta’s ear twitched. She could hear others approaching. She smiled down sinisterly at the bastard that ruined her and everybody’s lives. “You’re going to get it now, Betrayer.”
Growling, Brendan managed to choke out through his mangled jaw, “Why don kirr me?”
“Kill you?” Jetta asked with a raised eyebrow. “Too easy. I just want you to know hell.”
Brendan gulped. His daughter had learned a little too well from him.
"Now, Gina! He's not a monster! Scary maybe, but not a monster!"
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(Posted Wed, 14 Jan 2004 17:30)
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