POOOOH BEAR WHINNIE THE POOOOH BEAR.
-manic mornings-
"Fatman, have you ever fought a bear?"

"Oh yes! I have, Angel. Tore it's head clean off!""

It had been a bad decision to venture beyond the River today.

It had started with the urge to hunt. The scent of larger prey had been alluring, teasing, and he had chosen to track it in the hopes of being able to initiate a proper hunt with the rest of the pack. While he did not like the invitation of strangers into their ranks at this delicate time of Corinna's, he could not deny that the extra wolves were useful in hunts, and at least they were all of a capable calibre this time. He was particularly pleased with Elsa's behaviour since her joining. He had hopes that she would not let the pack down as her previous equals had.

The tracking had taken far, far too long. It was difficult to reconcile his stubbornness with common sense; on the one hand, he was travelling too far for a viable hunt, but on the other, he had come such a long way! Perhaps he would be able to take out something small to at least make it worthwhile? Irritated and growing impatient, he had stalked the herd, and finally sensed that he was coming closer.

The scent of bear had dashed his hopes upon the forest floor in moments.

Strategic back-tracking was in order! The damned ursine attacked the beasts Marsh had been tracking so carefully, and with an angry snarl the copper wolf had retreated, circling about the hunt which happened before his eyes. It would have been an awesome thing to watch the bear down its target, almost as if effortlessly. In that moment, the Second was keenly jealous of his larger rival, and rather than slink away and admit defeat, he chose to stalk the bear as it dragged its victory-carcass away to a more pleasing area for dining. He reasoned that he could wait for the bear to finish. Taking a leg back might validate the time spent tracking the damn things. The rest of the herd was spooked and scattered, and Marsh had little hope of taking them by surprise after this.

For his own safety, the wolf had taken the high ground, standing on an earthy bank relatively far above the bear, which sat so neatly in the little clearing, enjoying the bloody fruits of its labour. Grumbling but silent, the wolf laid down, watching the larger predator intently.

The scream brought his ears up to alertness instantly. For a moment he panicked, thinking his cover blown - but then, in a moment of wonder, realised that he recognised the voice. No... surely not...?

There the bizarre wolf stood, a beacon of stupidity. The bear's reaction to protect its meal from the intruder was instant, and Marsh stared in open bewilderment, slowly rising to his feet without thinking. Did the crazy wolf have a death wish? Seriously. What the fuck.

I think I'll wait to have Kiche recognize Marsh... :P

The horrible note lingered in the air far longer than Kiche liked.

And then that terrible, shaggy brown head swung towards him. Instinctively, the moron dove back behind his tree, the only defense that remained to him. Choking on his fear, the red giant found that he could hardly breath, could hardly move. Beyond the tree, the brooding creature, giving up on its curiosity returned to its hard-won carcass. It took several minutes for Kiche to regain his composure, and even then his thoughts were still a frantic jumble. He needed to get away, but he didn't know how he could do that without rousing the attention of the bear. He certainly couldn't fight the bear... What was a bear even doing here — so close to Grizzly Hollow, nonetheless? Kiche had little experience with bears of the non-stuffed variety, which left him without any strategies or answers to his questions. Generally, he figured he was doomed, and this creature was out to get him. Sure, it was distracted by its meal at the moment... but pretty soon it would come for him. Seeking comfort and finding support only in his old, delusional piety, he immediately concluded that this was one of the devil's agents.

Awe-struck and maybe a bit curious, the red man leaned out once more and gaped at the ursine death-sentence. As he leaned farther out, however, he suddenly noticed something: there was another wolf, just sitting there behind the bear. And then... just as the heathen began to rise... so did the bear. Accidentally, the universe strung together a meaningless collection of coincidences to create something that had the uncanny look of puppetry to someone as willing to believe in the bigger, crueler picture as Kiche was. It wasn't even a thought, it was an instinctive knowledge that came without words but translated roughly to that is the motherfucking devil controlling that motherfucking bear. This time, no scream pierced the air. There was nothing, just silence, a bear, and two very unfortunate wolves.

And then, "You... you stop that right now, Lucifer. I... I have... have G-g-g-god on my side. I will ... You... You cannot tempt or kill me!"

In gobsmacked awe, Marsh watched as the moronic wolf was graced with a chance. To his surprise, the bear let it go, turning away from the screeching beast as if - correctly - identifying it as no threat. No physical threat, at least. Give it half a chance and it would slay your mental health, though.

The crazy wolf tucked itself behind a tree, and Marsh slowly lay himself down again, unable to believe the close shave he had just witnessed. Although, watching the lumbering predator decapitate one of Marsh's old annoyances would definitely have made the journey worthwhile...

After a few minutes, the Second let himself forget about the instance, believing that the wolf had made its getaway after losing the bear's interest. It was certainly the sensible thing to do.

As movement caught his eye, and Marsh glanced back to the tree to see that the crazy wolf was, in fact, still here, Marsh had to remind himself that common sense was never something that seemed to apply to it.

Slowly, the bear turned, and slowly, the bear rose. Without thinking, Marsh rose too, as if on the edge of his seat, unable to believe what he was seeing. It didn't even begin to occur to him that such a simple notion would be so misinterpreted. He saw the wolf's wide eyes flicker in his direction, but was too far away to decipher any kind of rhyme or reason in its expression or body language beyond that. Then it opened its mouth.

Marsh had hoped to forget that voice.

This time, the bear was not quite so forgiving, and Marsh could hear its deep, warning snarls from his high vantage point. He did not envy the crazy wolf's position - but then, had it been shouting at him? What was he supposed to do? It could fuck right off if it thought Marsh was going to put his ass on the line to save it.

Though, on that note, it would not be too much effort to howl for support. No doubt the thing had friends if it had survived for so long. And then, after getting rid of the bear, Marsh could finally claim some of that meat.

But all in good time, he thought, lowering his haunches to the ground. He could enjoy this for a bit, first.

SHORT AND CRAPPY HOORAY

Somewhere along the way —be it tracking the bear, screaming at the top of his lungs, or shouting at the heathen-devil— Kiche had done something very stupid. And now it was all coming back to bite him in the rear. His awe-inspiring speech of defiance echoed off the trees, and some how it all seemed to sort of magnify his words... and it all seemed ridiculous —pathetic even. Provoked by the noise, the devil rose, eyeing him with those gleaming, soulless eyes. Fuck he realized, Fuck fuck fuck. Stupid, stupid, STUPID. How could he have been so stupid. Now more than ever he feared for his life. He wondered what the devil would say, how he would respond. Violent shuddering wracked his bulky frame as his ears fell back against his head. But Satan would never deign to speak to him, and his only response was through his mouthpiece: just a thunderous grumble, a threat.

Without warning, Kiche's bladder exploded... and then he promptly fainted, his body making a resounding thud as crumpled to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs, his head knocking carelessly on the hard dirt floor.

Ridiculous.

Marsh was almost disappointed. Here he had been hoping for a good show... and instead, the damn thing just faints. Hopeless. Rolling his eyes, Marsh concluded that it was a lost cause, and so might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.

Lifting his head to the skies, he let out a loud, urgent howl, a general cry of help to anyone in the area who had the decency and lack of common sense to actually run to the aid of complete strangers. Or if Marsh had been right to think that the wolf had allies somewhere, perhaps they would answer it? Either way, the request was sounded, and without a further note Marsh turned on his heel and all but flew through the trees, back down the incline he had so carefully sought, giving up the height advantage and all his wise precautions. All for a wolf who was sick in the head. Marsh was no better for helping it.

The bear, taken aback by the pathetic display but no less pissed off, had begun to take heavy steps towards the fallen wolf, eager to get rid of the nuisance once and for all. Its frustrated growls turned into an angry bellow when the copper wolf appeared, snarling and bristling, coming to stand just before the unconscious fool, between it and the bear. The display gave the massive beast pause, but only to lift itself up and roar in Marsh's defiant face.

Those allies had better exist, and they had better turn up sharpish. Marsh was willing to put on a show to delay the bear, but like hell was he risking his life any more than that. If push came to shove, the bear was more than welcome to it.

Marsh quickly realised that things weren't going to plan when the first wolf to arrive was, he realised with a dull wave of panic, one he recognised. The large male newcomer may have failed to make a stellar first impression, but that did not stop him from being a packmate, and as Marsh watched the simple brown beast dance around the bear, he suddenly felt extremely responsible for Bear's wellbeing.

A cautious yip, somewhere behind him, alerted him to some more back-up, though she was not as bold as Bear. As distracted as he was, it was difficult to tell if he recognised that voice. His nose was so full of ursine and the crazy wolf's piss that there was no way he'd be able to gauge it until she came into view.

That's when it got worse. With alarm, Marsh heard the steps behind him, and a scent he could never misplace intruded on the charming aroma already swimming in his mind. Ice?! This was all totally, totally wrong. The hell were Swift River wolves doing here?! If he'd known, he would have never called - the crazy wolf's life was not worth that of his kin. Panicked for the sake of his allies, Marsh glanced back at Ice as he grabbed at the unconscious wolf and began to tug, taking the opportunity while Bear distracted his namesake. His expression was open as he stared at Ice, wondering just what he had gotten the white wolf into, before a rather more furious growl tumbled from his jaws, aimed solely at the urine-smelling creature who had caused this mess.

Oh, who was Marsh kidding - he had caused this mess. If anybody died, it was on his head.

Livid, with the wolf and with himself, Marsh snapped back to attention, glaring as the two Bears danced. Fucking damn it all. He exploded forwards, teeth bared, with intents just to put pressure on the predator. Alone, none of them stood a chance. The bear spun about, massive paw swinging, and Marsh obligingly dashed away from the giant beast of teeth and claws. With space gained, he turned about again, snarling, doing his best to further divide the bear's attention.