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Cloud lost what little warmth he had shone as well and heeled like any proper dog, staying at least two steps behind and to her right. Though only the more canine of the demons would understand he kept his ears down and tail tucked in submission to the obvious leader in front of him but his icy blue eyes glared out a challenge to any who dared approach.

"Cold? It feels offly warm out to me, there isn't even a blizzard," he shrugged as he walked over and sat in the snow. His clothing was so thin it moved freely in the wind, but he had no problem with the cold. Even without the thick fur of his true form he had a remarkable resistance to cold. "Do you still wish to spare even though you are so cold?" he asked, clearly thinking she had now decided against the practice.

He stood in surprise, slicking snow off his tail. "I have always been amazed by magic, I only have enough to use the specialties of my heritage," he commented. Carefully, Cloud removed his sword and placed it near Deleyla before slinking down into his fighting stance. His eyes narrowed as he concentrated. Pure uncontrollably dark magic pulled around his body and melted the snow around him with an angry hiss. He clenched his right hand again and again until a p***k of blood formed in his palm and then suddenly a sword of pure silver sprang from his arm, glistening in his own blood. The pummel stone was bright crimson, standing out in stark relief next to the black leather wrapped hilt. It was a beautiful weapon and the carved fangs at the end of the hilt and inlaid in the arm guard showed it to be a very old family heirloom. It was a show of magic that no novice should have been able to produce but still the violent surges of his uncontrolled, and surprisingly dark, magic was also the sign of one who had not spent long learning the subtle art of spirit control.

Cloud looked a bit miffed at his sword being called 'pretty', but he clenched his double edged blade tighter before leaping forward. His speed was similar to a striking wolf.

He leaped to the right of the construct, circling, testing it. His form blurred as he struck out from the side barely glancing before zipping to the left and his steel flashed again. He jumped back suddenly, his eyes flashing around wildly as the construct made its mood. It was fast, feline fast.

He could scent its, her, magic and it burned his nose. He snarled as he avoided another strike and dodged to the right before zigzagging to the left. He pushed out with his blade and felt it jerk and snag in the flesh of his victim before leaping back.

The construct wasn't real, it was more of a golem, but it looked real. It felt real. The blood that pored from its side smelled real. It was the blood that brought the wolf. The blood that made Cloud reveal why the family loving wolves were considered so fierce.

The sword melted away like liquid mercury as he pounced. The construct flashed his weapon quickly and it bit into his side and seared his hip, but it was already to late. He morphed into his true form mid jump. At transformation so swift it looked like a replacement. There was a flash of white before crimson painted the sky and melted the snow. Standing above the decapitated construct was a pure white wolf with thick heavy fur covering an almost emancipated body. His fangs dripped with the fake blood and flesh as he starred at Deleyla with his unnerving blood tinged eyes. His claws were long and jagged and they pulsed as he gouged the construct, as if assuring himself it was dead.

Cloud, like any incompletely trained demon, could not return to his humanoid straight so quickly. In fact he could hardly draw anything more then animalistic hunger from his muddled brain. The new combatant drew his attention like a cat to a ball of yarn. He grinned as best as a wolf could, a demonic curve of jagged fangs as he drew his lips back with an almost silent snarl.

He faster in his four-legged form and proved it as he zipped forward and reached out low with his forepaw. He grazed an ankle or maybe a little higher on the calf before rolling away, kicking up snow and dirt. He bearly missed a downward strike of a sword as he pushed to the right then left then right then left again. His momentum carried him faster and faster, but this golem was just as quick. His already wounded elbow jerked. It was only a moment. A second in time, but it was enough. The construct moved forward with a burst of speed, sensing his moment of weakness. Its blade came down with such biting intensity his vision blurred the moment it tore through his shoulder, severing muscle and bruising bone.

Now he was pissed.

Cloud turned on a dime, his feet kicking up more snow and dirt as he lunged. The construct tried to push up his sword to defend itself. It would have worked on a normal opponent. On a sane opponent. On Cloud, however, the blade pierced his shoulder and continued through right up until the moment Cloud ripped a hole in its chest and tore out its innards and broke its magical spine.

This time he was almost completely gone. He turned on Deleya with completely red eyes. The icy blue was gone and now there was hardly any demon in him, just an animal. A wild, wounded Wolf. The marks were blindingly painful. Not deadly by any means but still enough to draw his more sensible concisions into seclusion. He circled the female demon with a vicious snarl, limping on his wounded leg as he challenged her, no longer recognizing her as a friend. He was wounded, nothing would be friend until it proved itself or he healed.

His posture was still tense. Ears at an angle and tail flicking irritably as he watched her. He paced about eight feet away close enough to leap at her but far enough away for him to not feel to stressed. He watched her with eyes that were not his own and the more he paced the more a mark became clear on his hip. At first it was just a dull grey but soon it darked until it was as dark as a moonless night. It was the shape of a bird with its sharp beak facing him and its wings stretched out to wrap around his hip while its tail and hind legs curled down lower on his leg. The mark flashed and angry black and any magician would be able to sense the magic surging off of it. IT was a dark mark. A curse mark.

Cloud calmed the moment his wound started to heal. As the bone strengthened and the muscles knitted back together and the flesh pulled and fur regrew. Soon the wound was nothing more than a bit of tussled fur. The curse, however, still pulsed angrily. The moment it felt an intrusion it spike with darker power. The mark flashed darked then burned red and Cloud yelped in pain. He laid on the snow and craning his neck started licking the area, matting the fur. The curse would not be subdued.

The mark pulsed once more in warning and then receded and the evil was almost completely gone. It only tickled lightly at the back of the senses. The mark, however, did not disappear.

Cloud rose slowly and, with the inborn care of any wolf, approached her cautiously. He gave a soft keening wail as he padded within a foot of her. He seemed to ask, "Are you okay?" He knew, instinctively, she had been the one to help him and even try to help him much further, and he knew even further that she was injured trying. In a move that was all together unheard of for any wolf, demon or otherwise, offered his back to her.