Wolves' Blood Rising

His axe bounced off the man's helmet crushing his skull and taking chunks of bone and flesh and metal with it as it completed its arc.  The two who had tumbled tried to roll to their feet, but Raven dropped his axe, drew a knife, and jumped atop them.  He slit both of their throats.   He held Prowl’s gaze as if to say this blood was on his hands.

The other guards had not yet crossed half the distance from the door to where Raven stood.  The Kintara sheathed his knife, recovered his axe, and turned back toward Prowl who was standing between him and the passageway that led to the cellblock.  He decided if Prowl refused to move this time he would put him down.  He had no more time to play with the assassin.

The arena was suddenly lit up with torchlight, the sconces on the walls seeming to burst into flame of their own accord.  An arrow flashed in the firelight, giving ThunderRage a split-second to duck before it plunged into his skull.  He looked up.  More guards were pouring into the arena.  He also noted that most of these new soldiers carried themselves with grace and skill, spreading out to lend maximum support for the soldiers already moving to engage.  These were not ordinary citadel guards, but rather a finely honed fighting unit.  The Headhunters had arrived.