Joral led his pack out of the den with a special spring in his step. While they weren't quite as powerful as he was, they were certainly qualified. None but his trusted pack (he called them the Aljat when nobody else could hear him) could be entrusted with this initial encounter with these "humans". The Alpha's pack had sustained some losses in their conflict, but they weren't being careful enough, as careful as the Aljat would be.

They were a group of seven, small enough to stay hidden, but large enough to ensure that the hunt was always successful. It had been weeks since any fatalities in his pack, and today would stay that way. Joral assigned three of the Aljat to look with the different eyes, and stayed with the superior form of vision himself. The Alpha was overly paranoid about this new prey, but Joral figured that it was in his best interest to follow his suggestion. The Alpha was beginning to show a bit of weakness here, which was strange, as he was always confident, powerful, and successful. Joral figured it was probably momentary weakness from losing an old friend to them, but he would show that those humans had simply been lucky to have been able to kill any of the keelish. Then he would be allowed to join with the adult keelish while still a spawnling, be trusted with leadership as an adult, and... a brief vision of him accompanying the Alpha on some grand conquest flicked through his mind's eye.

He didn't, however, let himself get caught up in his imaginations. He smiled to himself, proud of how far he had come, and how qualified he was. His Aljat were qualified and powerful, and he had no worries about how easily they would pull off this hunt. A small part of Joral was wishing that they were instead the "Wolfstags" he had heard about, since they had been a threat capable of killing Rulac's Beta. They would prove worthy prey for the Aljat, but until another was found of that same level, they were left to hunt these "humans".

Again, Joral shook himself from his thought process, just in time to hear the low "gather" whistle his scout Jeeral used. It was a bit shorter than usual, but Joral glanced at the rest of his pack and nodded for them all to walk forward. He hunched low, quiet as they approached. The rest of the pack came forward with him, and it wasn't long before they came to the location where the whistle had come from.

There, Joral saw Jeeral laying on the ground, something entering his eye and exiting the base of his skull. Before Joral could figure out what had happened here, a flash of movement flickered over his shoulder and struck his Beta, Gerucht, through the throat. The five keelish still standing whirled to where the attack had come from, and Joral saw... nothing. In a moment of clarity, he shifted his vision, and then, after the briefest moment, he saw two figures standing, hidden in the shade and root system of a massive burlraiz about 20m away. One was holding a long straight stick with something shiny at the end, and the other held a shorter, curved stick with both hands.

"RIP AND TEAR!!" Joral screamed as he ran forward. The second creature held its curved bow aloft and spread its hands. In a moment of instinct, Joral ducked low and dodged to the right as a ripping shriek of wind rushed past his head. The second creature (which Joral assumed was a human) spat out what must have been curses while the first lowered itself into some kind of stance and held its shiny stick in a strange manner before it. Unfortunately, the second seemed to the be one doing the most damage, yet Joral couldn't approach without getting past the one with the shiny stick. They had intelligently placed themselves in a location where flanking them would be impractical at best, and a death trap at worst, so Joral, after the briefest moment's thought, rushed the human in front.

The other four had the same thought. As they came close, another one of the deadly flying sticks rushed out and hit another of his pack. Joral didn't know if she lived, since all he knew was from the screech of pain, but he couldn't slow down, much less stop to check. Instead, he rushed forward to engage the enemy. They had caused death with their long ranged attacks, but they wouldn't last for long, now that the pack had approached.

Joral wished he'd been less naive.

The warrior in the front expertly slowed and stopped the four rushing keelish, not letting a single one get close enough to really engage him while also preventing any from approaching his companion behind him.

Joral screeched his challenge and rushed at the human without caring for the consequences. They lifted their stick and parried/slid him off the attack while also kicking out and briefly stunning the spawnling that had attempted to approach, and that was all that the human in the back had needed. Another killing stick struck, this one solidly in the chest and knocking the keelish prone. The rest of the pack took the opening to strike out at the warrior preventing their advance.

Joral was the first to get a good strike in, just a moment later, when the warrior stumbled over a protruding root underfoot. Joral quickly rushed in and hamstrung the human, leading to a low, pained grunt. Joral pressed his advantage and switched where he was biting from the thigh to the shoulder.

The human cried out as Joral's teeth ground against bone once, twice, and, just as he was about to rip it from the creature's body, Joral heard a wet thump, then saw about 5cm of a stick with feathers sticking out of his side. He knew this was potentially lethal... but he didn't care.

The human he had crippled was being savaged by his three companions, and Joral was about to smile in excitement when the human pulled something small and shiny from its waist, then proceeded to cut open the throats of two of his companions in a fraction of a second. The third latched onto the human's neck and began to rip and tear while the human weakly but repeatedly stabbed the belly of its attacker.

As Joral looked forward, towards the one that had been throwing the killing sticks, he saw that it had resumed its ready position, so he feinted left then went right. The stick went wide, but Joral knew in his heart that he wouldn't have enough time to get to the human before he was hit again. In desperation, he charged forwards, when suddenly something foreign yet familiar flowed from his chest out to his hands, and he subconsciously crossed them in front of himself, as if flicking blood from his claws.

The feeling left him, but suddenly, there was a strong, heavy wind, and it crashed into the long ranged attacker, knocking them back into the corner of roots that had previously kept them safe while their stick flew wide, off into the surrounding forest. Now, there was nowhere to flee, and Joral quickly came close to the human as they dropped their curving stick and grabbed a small, shiny stick, like the one the other had used, from their waist.

Unfortunately for them, Joral was just better than them in every way once he got close.

At first, Joral ran his sharp fangs over the human's knee, laying it open to the bone. The white of the bone, however, wasn't visible for long, as crimson blood flowed like a river over the ragged tear. Then, the hands. Joral took the right hand first, snapping his teeth agilely over his prey's wrist, and disarming it of its hand and its shiny weapon. The other hand was easy to take, but Joral began to feel himself enjoy the pained cries and panicked floundering away from his assault, and he drew it out. A bite of flesh here, and amputated limb there. He snicked away something here, then, after about a minute, he closed in on what was nearly a living meatball with one leg. With a single, unconcerned bite, he decapitated his prey, then he looked around.

Not a single other creature, human or keelish, was left standing. Only Joral, and, he suddenly realized that he now felt the burning, pulsating pain emanating from the stick buried in his chest. He lacked the strength to carry any prey back home, and wasn't even sure he could make it himself.