Desoto hunched low over the struggling form of a mob boss. The area surrounding her was littered with dead bodies, guns and stray bullets. Yes, she was bleeding and her limbs were shaking. But that was only seen if someone was really watching her stand still. Cuts and stab wound were scattered along her arms and shoulders and a scant few on her legs.
Her feathers ruffled, looking even more haphazard and ragged than before. It was obvious that she wasn’t grooming them as well has before but one would assume that it was from the fight because of the fresh and caked blood making the feathers stick together. They opened partially, their massive size and hers combined really did make her look like a demon. That and the dead and dying bodies around her.
The man moved again, to punch her in her face, but her hand pressed down on his face as her grip on her jaws encasing his throat increased. He gurgled, kicking and flailing, choking on his own blood and suffocating. Her pupils dilated and her lips pulled back a little more and with a squelchy crunch, crushed the remains of his wind pipe and lifted her head. Desoto counted to ten, then moved back, hunched over before standing to her full height.
The room was very dark. The reason? The creative use of bashing all the lights in and ripping out the wires coming from the ceiling. Brushing herself off and jumping upwards, folding her wings close to her body, to haul herself through the hole in the ceiling. Very sore and the pain from all of her injuries catching up to her wasn’t going to stop her now. Easily existing the ventilation system like some kind of fox, her eyes glanced from right to left before gliding over to the nearest roof to land clumsily with her wings floundering a bit. Her claws scrambled at the tiles to get a grip but found that she was slipping. Refusing to fall into the brightly lit driveway, her wings flapped heavily and she was airborne again, only to land at the twisted roots of a large willow tree. It was good luck that it was at the time of night were the shadows are always the darkest. She blended right in with her dark clothes and fur.
She sat, and began to tear of strips of her clothing to stanch the blood flow. The demon would need to take regular breaks on her trip back to her home. But for now, the slow progress would be fine and the worse injuries on her arms would need tending to at the moment. The large werewolf wasn’t aware of anyone nearby until there was a snap of the a twig. At once all noise coming from her stopped mid-knot to listen, her ears erect and perked, her eyes searching the darkness.
