Bear with me, here, I know there really sin't much of the wya of plant life available. HE A GOOD SCAVENGAR.

Draped over the cliff edge was a curtain of stone that rippled and teased the trees at the edge of the forest, thrusting it's boulders and rocks amongst the roots. Perhaps one day the mountain would swallow the forest entirely, the lowly wolf mused as he paused for a moment beside the wall, strange roots in his mouth. Now, he said, turning his attention aside, Where is it again? Gently, he placed the strange looking roots at his feet and lifted his muzzle to the sky.

This time, when he drank deeply from the air it meant something. The breeze spoke to him. It carried the stories of this poor land whose past, he could sense, was fraught with pain. These wolves he lived with — they had not been the first; they would not be the last. The red man sighed, wondering how he could have been so blind to the world that lived in the wind, the world that his nostrils could read and his eyes and his heart could not. How could he have denied this part of himself for so long? There was no sin in this sense. He was only using what God had given him. I won't take it for granted, Pangur, I swear. His exhale was heavy, the steam of his breath swirling from his nostrils and disturbing the roots he had set before his paws.

Ah, yes. The roots.

Once more he picked them up and started off again. He trotted close to the wall, his ginger fur brushing against the time worn stone. From time to time, he would stop and glance upward at the cliff-side as if looking for something, then shake his head and continue on. It was some time before he finally stopped, pausing where there were a number of tumbled boulders. Here, he began to scramble upwards, bounding from rock to rock piled up against the wall. Eventually, this path gave way to a cavern that had been worn into the cliff side. Cautiously, the red man stepped in side the dark, fairly shallow cavern. It was cold in here, surrounded by stone that never saw the light of day. But it was dry at least, and it would keep his small collection safe.

Carely, he laid the shriveled, tangled mess in his jaws in a pile next to several other piles of assorted things. There was a pile of shriveled yellow flowers, and a clutch of some dark berries, and a collection of something like wheat, and a bundle of spiderweb. Now, Kiche wasn't really quite sure what any of these things did... but he had smelled them on Elettra before. He had caught glimpses of them in her den in Grizzly Hollow. He figured they were probably worth collecting if Elettra had bothered to keep them around at all. She didn't seem like someone who would waste.

Once more, he took a deep breath and steps out towards the entrance to cavern. Slowly, he lifted his head to the sky and let out a bellowing cry. His howl was distinct —a strange mixture of scream and shout. Kiche had never learned just precisely how the heathens made their music, but his improvisation wasn't that far off.

After some time, Her dark shadow emerged from the trees and passed over his heart. It had been quite some time since he had last seen her. A few weeks, maybe. They seldom crossed paths since most of his time had been spent out here, at the very limits of the Ridgelands. And Kiche was okay with this,He trembled, suddenly, as if frightened.

But it wasn't fear that made him shiver, so.

Oh no. It was Lust.

The judgement she had promised him was coming, he could feel it. Every part of his body hummed and resonated with a strange anticipation. This is what he had came here for. To make up for the past. To be convicted, put on trial, and sentenced for every wrong he had done. Wash me, clean me, beat me, hate me, anything. Every beating brought him a little closer to his God, a little closer to redemption, a little closer to understanding his place in this world. And yet, there was something more to these feelings than the religious desire. There was a thrill that quickened his pulse and a perverse desire to be the victim. Somehow these two realities existed without contradicting each other. Both held equal sway over his mind as they ripped him apart.

But he had always been a broken man.

"Elettra," he barked from his perch on the cave, flicking his muzzle towards the rock pile he had scaled. "It's up here." Would she snarl at him? Would just shove him aside and put him in his place?

He could only hope.

LOL this is going to be one kinky thread. here, have some random lyrics:


I am the Law and the Law is not mocked

I'll spit his pity right back in his face

There is nothing on earth that we share

It is either Valjean or Javert!

He shuddered with every footfall that brought her closer.

"You."

Her sultry murmur was enough to throw red man to the ground. He pulled his tail up towards his stomach, as if to make some attempt to protect his sensitive man-parts. The fear began to fill him up, and yet he was excited. He had waited so long for her to do something, to make something of him.... and now the moment was here.

"I've been craving a piece of you."

His lids fell down over his amber eyes as if in ecstasy. He did not know what forces compelled him anymore. Was it godliness or something else, something less pure? He did not question her motives or ask why. The boundary between heaven and earth seemed to fade. Images of Pangur and Elettra began to merge in the darkness behind his eyes. Kiche had been bad. He had spent years questioning her, his God, and he had no right to ask any more questions of her. She probably didn't even hear him. Just before her body connected with his, he whispered, "Take me"

Their bodies met and he could hardly stand the strange feeling that flared in his heart. The sheer force of her, with all her hard muscle and hard-won weight, was enough to send him onto his pack. But she was strong, and the jaws that found her shoulder came with him as he fell backwards. She broke the skin. Bright ginger fur came away from his shoulders in tufts and blood began to seep up from puncture wounds.

Oh, how it hurt. And yet it felt good. It felt good to hurt. The red man's eyes flickered but he held them shut. Otherwise, he made no other move to defend himself.... in fact he pulled his head back, baring his neck to this dark shadow the lay upon him. Take it, he dared her, Take it, it's yours. I'm yours. So lost was he in this crazy fantasy that had run away with his morals, he actually began to speak this out loud, "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," he whispered with a strange longing.