I have yet to edit this chappie so, forgive me. Will do sometime this weekend, but out of 10, I've rated myself a 6. The YouTube link below is me performing the actual Trumpet Voice of War within this chappie. Originally, I was going to post it in the next chappie to come, but I've decided against doing that and thought to include here for new readers and mayhap re-readers, yeah?!

THE TRUMPET VOICE OF WAR! It's a bit dramatic/theatrical, well, to me it is hehe. Enjoy! I suggest using HEADPHONES FOR A BETTER SOUND.

https://youtu.be/OBe-GCPerqU

Chapter 8-Dog Soldiers.

   Ear-splitting...

   Heart-thumping...

   Benumbing...

   A scene of mad confusion, it was complete pandemonium.

   Flesh turned, bursting into ripples of fur as eyes filled with a bloodthirsty heat of sanguinary hatred. Moving forward, they drew their horny curved swords as one, tearing through the 'big top'; gashing away at any and everything. Like weeds, bodies of frightened men and women tumbled, scurrying hither and thither for the nearest exit.

   Simultaneously, my body began to strum with a hum. As somewhere in the recesses of my mind came the strings from a cord.

   Ta-tiki-tiki-ta-tiki-tiki-ta!

   'Announced the trumpet voice of war.

   Ta-tiki-tiki-ta-tiki-tiki-ta!

   Announced the dog soldiers on the hunt for more!

   Ta-tiki-tiki-ta-tiki-tiki-ta!

   Announced as they tore through the skins of all.

   Ta-tiki-tiki-ta-tiki-tiki-ta!

   Come now blood, spill onto the floor!'

   Swish!

   Swish!

   Swish-Swash!

   Argh!

   Swish!

   Swish!

   La-de-da-da!

   Swish!

   Swish!

   Swash-Swish!

   Urgh!

   Swish!

   Swish!

   Ha! Ha! Ha!

   Ta-tata-tata-tiki-tiki-ta-ta!

   Ta-tata-tata-tiki-tiki-ta-ta!

   Ta!

   Suddenly, a horrified gasp to the right, pulled my attention to a man no more than twenty (20). Pinned beneath the massive foot of Lochna's Lycan Wolfskin, his struggle to free himself from the predator's clutch was futile. With a guttural snarl, Lochna struck.

   Swish!

   Talons connected to skin, slicing through the soft, living tissue. Hardly enough to cause extreme damage, four precisely tight lines ran diagonally from the left side of the man's face, cutting pathways into his ear. Instead of opting for a quick death, Lochna thought it comical to play with his food.

   Swish-swash!

   Twice more they came in repetitive strokes before Lochna was at it again; this time, launching with powerful swipes at the man's throat.

   Swish!

   Swash!

   Tiki-tiki-ta!

   A blood-curdling scream came shooting from the man's mouth that soon began to fill with red liquid. Spewing onto the territory's ground, my nerve endings sizzled from the inside out as the man's skin grew pale. Without delay, Lochna struck again. This 'meal' would not be allotted the chance to run.

   Swish-swash!

   Almost like ribbons, long, thin, jagged bands of inked flesh adorned his talons, frolicking away with a sway to the calamity. A deft flick of the wrist had them collapsing gracefully to the ground. It was then when I saw that the tides had turned in the eyes of Lochna's Lycan Wolfskin; deciding enough of toying with his food—playtime...was over.

   Frothing at the mouth much like a rabid animal, jaws of steel clamped tightly onto the man's head, wildly shaking it. Similarly, to acid burning through any surface, the separation occurred quickly. Time itself had become irrelevant as blood then oozed in thick rivulets down the man's face to form tiny pools around him. The man's body bucked, convulsing into light spasms. A gurgling breath was drawn, and then another—before his head was cleanly removed.

   Thrown carelessly into the masses, I watched—like a hawk, panting in absolute fear as sweat hovered like clusters above my brows. Even though his head had been removed, the spasms continued, lasting nearly a minute. On top of that, neither had Lochna the decency to down his prey before he was onto the next one.

   An endless pile of headless lumps littered the territory's ground.

   Limbs laid unnaturally...

   Blood streamed profusely...

   Bodies twitched uncontrollably...

   Faces contorted painfully...

   Meanwhile, eyes absent of life shifted with a haunting accuracy, tracing my every move. Much the same as a pillar dusted in salt, the Wolfskin remained motionless to the carnage that surrounded him. However, not ten feet away was the mammoth of a bear; chomping on its teeth and blowing out air.

   Repeatedly—it tried escaping its cage, bashing head first. Moreover, just as how it was with Lochna's Lycan Wolfskin, I saw when the tides had turned within this Wolfskin.

   One moment, he stood—parallel of my sight. And in the next—the door of the steel cage was ripped from its hinges, locking his jaw into the scruff of the bear before dragging it out.

   Pawing frantically at its neck, moans of fear reverberated through the bear's chest beneath an unyielding jaw. Realizing that—it was no longer a predator to a predator, it grew more restless.

   Spittle came flying from the bear's mouth, landing across my face as the Wolfskin's jaw muscle worked, tightening his grip.

   From dragging...

   To pulling...

   And kicking...

   There was no differentiating between this bear and the man that Lochna beheaded. Because like that man, this bear's resistance was futile. In an instant, it was released. However, its reprieve was only short-lived.

   Talons penetrated the bear, sinking smoothly into fur and skin as though it were made of kaolin clay; shredding a part of its middle. A high-pitched moan pierced the air, assaulting my ear-drums. At the same time, some of its bloody, stringy entrails tumbled out, dangling from the opening.

   As more of its entrails came tumbling, another high-pitched moan followed.

   Soon thereafter, the Wolfskin hoisted the bear above his head, sending it flying with what little there was left of the 'big top'. I found myself running along with it as fountains of the red liquid splashed, staining a plethora of faces painted in fear and rouge. The bear then landed upon one of the ballistas attached to the battlement, slicing the remaining part of its middle in half.

   With a wet plop, the rest of its entrails plummeted to the ground; leaving it to hang like a flag as a sacrificial lamb.

   Suddenly, I felt a vibration of heavy footfalls resonating from behind. A glance over my shoulder showed the Wolfskin, pushing off his hind legs. Hard on the heels of him was Lochna, sailing through the air.

   Moving effortlessly, they jumped from stone to stone, scaling the castle wall. And though he wore the form of his Wolfskin—it did nothing, however, to deflect the huge chunk missing from his right leg. Grotesque as it was, the muscles and tendons visible flexed with each movement; pulsing with a life of its own. Having said that, they reached the battlement to which the bear hung.

   Standing on either side of the mutilated carcass, heads tipped back and chests splayed out, the Wolfskin along with his second—howled mercilessly to the moon.

                                                                                                *

   Wrapped in hopeless misery, I felt much the same as a horse tethered to a post. Allowed for only a couple paces from the door of the hollow to the divan, my movements were restricted.

   The bonds of twisted sisal had been fettered around my waist in rings of three. Looping thrice over and under, each ring had space lesser than the first; knotting securely at a proper length to which—lead outside the hollow.

   On the other hand, I thought I'd never step foot inside this hollow again; adamant on killing something had my plan been unsuccessful. And yet—here I stood...Within the face of brutality's lair.

   The Wolfskin showed a blithe disregard for the rules of propriety when he'd unleashed Lycan Wolfskins to the inhabitants of Hollow's Bay. One by one, they kept cutting bodies down in a show of malicious dominance. As a result—many lay dead. Victims to a world that most may not have known existed.

   Furthermore, he'd wanted to make a firm statement to all that—retribution would be had once crossed. Indeed, the statement had been made, as bloodshed zoomed by and around me like hail.

   Even more shocking was Lochna. Call it ignorance on my part, but—never would I have imagined such devastation coming from him. In fact, I'd never once considered Lochna to be made of such things. He was vile, vicious, and cruelly unforgiving. Then again—remembering how he'd slaughtered that man so easily, without a moment's hesitation on his part—he truly is what one would expect from those of the wolf's skin...Barbaric.

   Immediately, I paused in my pacing, as the door to the hollow suddenly creaked open. Anxiously awaiting to see whether anyone would walk through, I listened—hearing only my heart: drumming to a beat of its own accord as each second passed. Becoming more ominous by the minute, the silence continued to reign.

   Before long, I found myself taking tentative steps towards the door. Leaning the top half of my body out, a quick peek to the right, and then to the left showed no one. Unsure as to whether anyone was even there, to begin with, I'm about to retreat when from the distance came a chime.

   At first, it was nothing but a simple caress; a light flutter. Almost as though something was being struck. Growing louder, then softer, then louder again, it appeared to come from all over the tunnel; increasing in its octave. Though the stillness of the air only added to the uncanny atmosphere.

   However, as the sound grew closer, the more distinct it became...Bells. Still—it was unnerving. But then all too quickly it stopped.

   I felt the blood in my veins chill, as after a brief time—came another chime. Wounding itself around my head, trembling hands held tight to my ears as gradually, it began to change; more so, into a shrill loud whistle. And like the first time around, it grew louder, then softer, then louder once more, before stopping altogether.

   At that very moment, the lights dimmed. Lacking the incandescent like glow to them. No longer did they flicker against the tunnel walls as from the darkness—came the sound of banging doors. Following the same pattern as the chimes, the banging intensified. Yet all too quickly, it ended.

   Without warning, there's a plash! Tongue darting out to moistened chapped lips, my fear spiked; rooting me firmly between the entrance of the hollow as another plash occurred.

   Somehow, everything was the same and different. The chime. The banging doors. And now this. Each dissimilar to the other yet—sounded very much alike.

   In the deep recesses of my mind, somewhere—the hum became a whine.

   I staggered. Stumbling over feet in shoes that squelched with every step. Resembling something close to water, the floor had been laden with a clear liquid. I bent low, dipping a finger into it.

   The smell at first was indiscernible; having mixed within the grime and mud it turned mild. However, the closer my finger got to my nostrils, the more it became defined.

   Spirits.

   "What the—Urgh!" Plunged face-first into the alcoholic solution, someone was pulling on my bonds of twisted sisal. A tug with no war, my body twisted painfully; veering alternatively from left to right. I shrieked, blindly flailing my arms in a panicked rage as I sought desperately for a touch of something. Anything that'll put an end to it.

   Like static against my skin, the solution crackled; sploshing into my mouth—eyes, nose and even ears. I began to choke from its toxicity.

   Pushing against the darkness was light from the outer cavity. Searing into my eyes with its intensity, they pricked with unshed tears. Arms thrown carelessly about my face, I became aware now of how much faster I was moving.

   One hard tug on the bonds of twisted sisal, and sure enough—I was yanked off the ground. Flying...then falling...then flying once more, before rolling to a complete stop.

   My face was numb...

   My ears rang...

   My breathing was haggard...

   Pebbles had found themselves embedded in my skin. Likewise, there was no telling as to how much bruising my body sustained from all the tossing, scraping and bumping.

   I felt like an animal wounded.

   "Oi! It's not to say we don't like watching the beauty in you as you sleep there, lovvie, but—d'you thinks you can get up?" The voice was a warm, deep sigh of measured cadences. Rolling and breathy. Like the chime, it fluttered with a caress against my cheek. Still—for all its soothing warmth, it stunk with a commanding foulness.

   Eyes snapping open, I jolted upright. Crouched beside me with his face: stained with blood and close to mine, wearing a sickeningly sweet, toothy grin of a smile...was Tallon.

   "Now, look at you!" he said, his hand gently patting me on the knee. That too along with the upper part of his torso had matched his face. "All up and about. You were beginning to scare us for a bit there, lovvie. After all, it usually doesn't take us this long to draw a Sheila out."

   At his 'us', my head pivoted round. Gasping, my heart leapt into my throat. The eyes staring back at me were cold. Colder than the frost from Winter's snow. Their auras were of pure evil and hate. In the form of human flesh, they looked no different from that of their Lycan Wolfskins. And of all things...I was surrounded.

   Trying to jump to my feet, something sharp nudged me in the ribs.

   "I thought to give you's a hand, lovvie," Tallon said, waving what appeared to have been a whistle in my face. With a strong grip, his fingers closed around my wrist, biting into my skin in a not so, pleasant kind of way. Taking a closer look at his nails, blood, along with God knows what still lingered beneath. Opening my mouth to scream, he brought the whistle to his lips.

   From afar, one could easily mistake it for charming sounds coming from tinkling bells. But up close, it had me clamping my eyes shut in a grimace of pain. Mouth still blowing on the whistle, Tallon had me on my feet before I could further protest.

   "Can you please stop that?!" I managed to squeeze out.

   "D'you like?" Tallon said, swinging the whistle from left to right. "It's one of my many proud creations; specifically used for huntin'." Tilting his head to the side with a quizzical smile, he then asked, "Shall I tell you what for?"

   Vehemently, I shook my head no.

   "Ah, shucks." He clucked his tongue. "But," giving the tombs a turnabout, Tallon's eyes met mines once more with a twinkle. "I'll tell you anyways. This here likkle friend of mine," he gestured to the 'item' in his hand no longer than my middle finger, "is a Galton's whistle. Or—as it's more commonly known: the 'silent' dog whistle. A likkle fun twister—it was originally used on humans, prior to those 'men of science' extending their fields in the land of us, four-legged creatures.

"Clever are those...forgive me, I mean—were those 'men of science' to think that— animals should be trained and not left to run wild. They must know when to sit, stand, walk, run, jump, stop barkin'...the lots goes on, lovvie," Tallon said, ticking each point off on his fingers.

   The brutal realization of what he was implying had me curling my hands into fists. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I blinked, hard.

   "Y'sees," he continued, smoothly, "it's not so much the sound to matter, but the animal acclimated to it. Hence—my little creation. Made from staghorn, I thought it unfair to us dogs that—we had something to get us in line and not you pretty likkle Sheilas with pretty fat likkle kitties." With that, my eyes flashed in anger. "We can't hear it, though. Just the unruly Sheilas...

"But you, however—you's tooks lots longer. To respond, that is. Still, wanting to fight, eh? So, I had to give you a likkle pull," he motioned towards the bonds of twisted sisal now being uncoiled from around my waist by a follower.

   "Who would've thought that, a simple likkle nudge..." My hands were already moving at tempo. Clasping onto my ears when that bloody whistle rang through.

   "Look sees, you began to kneel all on your own. And you had me thinkin' my likkle precious was defec—"

   "Enough, Tallon," came a voice much colder; one that had me flinching involuntarily.

   Parting much like the Red Sea for him, backbone erect, side by side he entered with his second. Not far behind, looking identical to Tallon in nothing but black leathers and an opened vest —were Kraze and Nemo. Making up the rear, however, were the seven (7) Lycan Wolfskins from the Harvest. In each of their hands rested a leash that led to a collar nestled neatly around a girl's throat.

   Naked from the waist down, on hands and knees they crawled like dogs behind their masters. Tumbling down their faces, were tears not of joy.

   Surprisingly, three (3) of the seven (7) newly 'initiated' ladies bore the territory pack's sigil. Whereas the other four (4) bore more so marks of resistance.

   Something moved at the corner of my vision.

   I hadn't noticed from when I was first dragged in, but—only the tunnels had been laden with spirits. The outer cavity, however, up until some minutes ago, remained unscathed.

   Ta-tiki-tiki-ta-tiki-tiki-ta!

   More and more the coldness seeped into my skin as they cleared the rest of the furnishings from the outer cavity. Casually, they flung the chaise lounge into the corner before grabbing hold of glass canisters filled with clear liquid. Spirits, I presumed.

   Tiki-tiki-ta!

   The whining became too much to bear in my head as they uncorked each canister: upending the spirits all-round the middle part of the cavity. Many resorted in throwing the canister onto the floor.

   It came just above my ankles. Forming a pool of radiance as the lights from the outer cavity reflected brightly with its rays. Looking down, I saw not my face cast back at me, but a shadow of what was to come.

   Ta-tata-tata-tiki-tiki-ta-ta!

   The first to step into the pool was Nemo. Then came Kraze and Tallon, having all removed their vests. The other four Command Warriors were of nowhere to be found. But— as the age-old proverb goes, 'Speak of the devil, well—in this case, devils and they too shall appear.'

   Raizo held three (3) chains in one hand that—like the collars around the girls had led to shackles around the necks of Gage, Colt and Beecher. Despite not being in the form of their Lycan Wolfskins, the three (3) had prowled: on all fours like lions into the cavity.

   Snarling, grunting and using their hands almost as though their claws were drawn to mock swipe at me.

   "Now, now boys...you'll have at her soon," Raizo murmured soothingly.

   Turning to the Wolfskin, "Lane, what's he talking about?" I demanded more than asked.

   "Ah...Now is when she decides to use my name without disdain and fear," he replied.

   "I'm serious, Lane. What's he talking about?!"

   "Think, Jaxsa," he began slowly, almost deliberately. "Think long and hard from when I'd warned you last if you were to try and flee my side again on what would happen."

   Threading through the hum now blaring in my mind, I remember having followed him out that night onto the walk-bridge, before stopping at the edge of the forest...

   "The next time and—there will be a next time Jaxsa because, let's face it—it's of your nature, you can't resist...Hands shall be placed onto you."

   "You can't possibly be serious? I'm supposed to be your match, dammit! Even you said it best: how you've never placed me in a situation where I felt the need to question my safety. So, why start now?!"

   He pointed at the seven Lycan Wolfskins who now had their matches kneeling upright onto the floor. "An example needs to be made for them."

   Ta-tiki-tiki-ta-tiki-tiki-ta!

   Announced the trumpet voice of war.

   "Lane."

   "There must be order, Jaxsa."

   "Lane."

   Ta-tiki-tiki-ta-tiki-tiki-ta!

   Announced the dog soldiers on the hunt for more!

   "Order comes first...Always"

   "Lane."

   "Embrace not thy Lycan Wolfskins." Clicking his fingers together, a wooden collar with metal spikes protruding is placed into his hand by Lochna.

   Shaking my head, I tried desperately to plead with my eyes for him not to do this. However, my plight is ignored as he walks towards me, stopping mere inches to place the collar onto the floor laden with spirits.

   "The first to not only get to the collar but—collars her with it...can have her for a fortnight." Letting go of the chains, the shackles are then removed by Raizo as he too, along with ten (10) more Lycan Wolfskins joined within the pool; all jostling with hungry, crazed looks for the best position nearest the collar.

   "LANE!!"

   "Put hands to her."

   Tiki-tiki-ta!

So, I'd originally wanted to call it Wolfskin but, held back a bit. I don't care anymore lol. I'm going for it. I thought of the claw marks to represent the wolf/Lycan part and the branches for skin/witches. A.K.A. Wolfskin. But, I may use another cover without the branches to start.