(You'll like this one, Lycanis.)
The poison-fanged wolf (needs a better name
) is a creature specific to Iuthernya, the main country of a land I created that still needs a name (
I'm terrible with names).
It resembles a wolf, except it is bigger. Taller and more powerful, but no faster than a normal wolf when running. Their fur ranges from dark brown to midnight black, and their eyes seem to glow. Their teeth are long and pointed; made expressly for getting a grip on flesh and not letting it escape, ripping meat, etc.
Their rather thick saliva contains a deadly poison that coats their teeth. One good bite will kill a human within 2-3 minutes. A lesser bite will, of course, take longer to kill the victim, and a tiny one may even be treatable, but if a wolf is that close to you, you're usually dead anyway.
They travel in packs. They do not like water, and not all of them will deign to chase their quarry through water, so the packs sometimes split and some will run through the water while the others won't. They will rejoin the pack later, bringing back the dead prey if they caught it.
I'll put an excerpt or two here so y'all can see how they come into play:
Quote:
These are no normal wolves. These are the large, albeit heavy kind, with razor-sharp claws, perfect night vision, and poisoned teeth. The only good thing: You won't live long after being bitten, if they get a good, strong bite. At least their claws are not venomous.
Starrett splashes through another, deeper stream, and this time only two of the wolves deign to wet their fur. He is beginning to slow now-he is not a race-horse; this chase is tiring him.
“Go on, Starrett! You can do it!”
A branch hits my cheek. My eye begins to tear right above it, and I know I shall have a bruise. From that point on, I keep my head as far down as it will go.
Starrett pulls up short, and I raise my head. The wolves have fronted him.
This is my end, I think, half-regretful. I hope it does not hurt too much. I know, though, that this is a false hope.
Then Starrett rears high, and I am thrown off. I land in a heap on the ground, my head hitting a root, and I just manage to keep awake long enough to see Starrett's hooves come down to crush one of the wolves. His head shoots down and his strong, oat-grinding teeth bite down on the last wolf's neck. He thrashes back and forth until it is still.
And then my eyes close.
Quote:
We hasten along the path, back toward the road that I was foolish for leaving, though Starrett seems to be tiring very quickly.
“What's wrong, boy?” I then have a horrible thought. “Did they get their teeth into you?” I jump down without further ado and check him over. He has the claw marks on his rump, scratches from branches, but I see no bite marks.
Until I stand in front of him, petting his nose, and he nickers and pulls away.
“Starrett?” I guide his head back to face me with a gentle hand, and find small but inflamed tooth marks in the side of his nose. “Oh, no.” It does not look like he was bitten badly enough to kill him, but even a little amount of poison causes much pain, and after a while, fever and vomiting in humans. If they survive the first hour. “I'm so sorry, Starrett,” I choke, beginning to cry. If I had known, I never would have ridden him. How could I not have noticed? This is why he has seemed so tired and odd.
Any questions? Comments? Name suggestions?
These sound neat!
I wouldn't give anyone I liked a poison-fanged wolf. 
)
Just the way you worded it was... funny in a disgusting way?
I've never weighed one.