A conclusion had been reached: he was trapped, he was doomed. As it appeared to Kiche, he had died in that car crash and gone straight to hell or purgatory or... something. Perhaps this place was too cold to be hell, exactly. But this was not his world, and this was not heaven. This was an afterlife of savages and too many trees. The scars of hell, ashy claw marks on the trunks of these dead trees, told Kiche everything he needed to know about this he had been transported to. And no matter how far he ran, no matter how hard he closed his eyes and wished to be home again, he was still here, in this uncanny, apocalyptic, menacing forest. While this place wasn't so choked by weeds and undergrowth as the forest Kiche had just left, he believed it to be even more dangerous, more unclean.

"This is the home of the Devil."

Now, that was a weird thing to say. Kiche couldn't remember thinking it, it just came out. Yet, as he looked around the cold, burned woodlands, he knew it must be true. Satan would be lurking here, behind some tree. He was watching, and he was waiting. For a moment, Kiche almost thought he could smell him. But it was his own fear, clinging to him. He was not too good with scenting things. It was a skill he had never quite mastered, never having the need to before. Cautiously, Kiche began to slink his way through the trees, his firebrand coat staining the purity of the snow-scape like a tongue of fire. Where is the way out of here?

[/dohtml]

[dohtml]

Kiche was beginning to feel the inklings of terror once more. There was no end in sight to this forest, all of these trees. Aimlessly he slithered through the trees, his belly fur brushing the remaining snow, his tail in between his legs, thinking of how he missed the cropped grass and paved sidewalks and comforting walls of home. He was a very sorry, pathetic creature. More than anything, though, he was deeply homesick, and very deeply wishing that he could wake up from this nightmare. But everywhere he looked he only saw untamed, uncharted, profane woods... And a little white creature sitting amongst the snow? Kiche's heart stopped. Is this place FULL of pagans and hellions?

But of course it was, it was hell, after all.

Kiche did not take a step towards her, fearing more witchery. She was smaller than the last one though. Younger. Did that make her more or less dangerous than his silent tormentor? He couldn't decide. From where he stood, only fifty yards from the young monster, Kiche cowered beside the tree, unable to move once more. "God have mercy on your soul," he breathed. Although said to himself, it was loud enough to echo about the desolate forest. Shoot! He would pay for that mistake.
[/dohtml]

Engrossed in her own random musings, the yearling picked up on the scent of other wolves far too late -- and was in plain sight, black against the white of the snow, when she glimpsed the light-furred wolf who blended in a little better than she did. A quick glance and she realized that another wolf was also nearby, huddled against a tree... was he... what? Scared of something?

Brows knit, Volk trotted forward, throwing caution to the wind. She strode up to the female in the snow, only glancing at the reddish male by the tree. They both looked about her size... and for the first time in Relic Lore, Volkan didn't feel intimidated by the strangers she was facing. The first male she'd met had practically scared the fur off of her. The second wolf, Vlarindara, had been kind, but Volkan found her experience and kindness overwhelming. Standing over the tawny wolf in the snow, Volk opened her mouth.

"...What are you doing?" She outright asked the female, stopping short of her and tilting her head inquisitively. "And--" more hushed, "What is he doing?" she inquired as she gestured slightly with her maw toward the other wolf.

As a particularly spoiled alpha's daughter, she was slightly lacking in the manners department.

lulzzz @ word of the day. it was meant to be.

[dohtml]

---

Ah-ha!

The demon had brought a friend along with her, and this one was black! Kiche's eyes narrowed, wondering if they were up to something; some heinous plot to exploit some poor woodland creature and feed it's soul to their master, probably. From his partial cover behind the tree, Kiche peered out at them for a second, and then flashed back behind the tree, breathing heavily. They had seen him. That pale one and her black friend, they had been looking over in his general direction. And they were talking. About him? Straining, the ginger, or rather, yellow, pusillanimous wolf, tried to catch what they were saying.

"He muttered something a moment ago."

They had heard him! Damn!

However, the rest of their conversation was lost in the breeze. But they had seen him, heard him. They were probably plotting his demise, right at this very second! Oh, how Kiche wished he could run, could move, but he was trapped in their pagan magnetism, their hypnotic field of devil-energy that they exuded. He began to tremble all over, whimpering softly. Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man.

[/dohtml]

Volkan was satisfied with the other female's answer, as it had been truthful, though not too polite. She figured just laying there wasn't so weird after all, and took a moment to look back at the wolf behind the tree, who was now practically shaking out of his skin. At the female's cackle, she grinned wryly. "Weird," she said rather audibly, not really caring whether or not he could hear her. She took a few steps back from her, having lost interest in intruding on the other wolf's personal space.

"I mean, weird that he'd be scared of you," she added after a second. "I don't think you look that scary." Face a little twisted in her confusion, Volk finally turned in his direction. She called out to him, scraggly tail awag. "Somethin' wrong, kid?"

Never mind that he was probably older than she was - Volkan felt like getting to the bottom of this. Did all wolves around her always act so weird? The dark yearling glanced briefly at her other female counterpart, wondering if the stranger was as intrigued by the strange male's behavior as she was.

What sounded like the dark wolf's voice rang out through the dismal, charred wasteland. She spoke loudly, as if she didn't even bother to conceal her intentions. Was it because she knew that since there was only one of him and two of them, that he stood no chance? He gulped. They were mocking him, their tormenting voices followed by even more agonizing, ominous silences. He could hardly contain his heart, which threw itself at his rib cage, threatening to break out, to run away and leave him.

For some reason, though, nothing happened.

Delving in to the remnants of his courage, Kiche gathered himself for one last glance beyond the tree. But when he looked back, he saw that there was only one wolf, just the dark one. What magic is this? Fretfully, the ginger male began to wonder if that white wolf had ever been here at all. Maybe she was just a sprite, a demon sent out by the his hellish, dark fiend to confuse and torture him. Maybe she just wanted him to think that he was out numbered, although, even with the subtraction of one wolf, he still did not stand a chance. Despite this, he felt a little braver. "What magic is it that you do? Stop it this instant!"

As the white female threw her a strange glance and pretty much bolted, Volkan was left standing there with her brows lifted slightly, a bemused expression on her face. What was her problem? Didn't she know it was rude to leave another wolf's company without saying goodbye? Even if they'd just met, Volk found it a little uncouth. She hadn't even caught her name.

Oh well, she resolved, directing her full attention now to the weird quivering guy behind the tree. He was saying something finally, but unfortunately Volk only caught the tail end of it and the word "magic" – she tilted her head quizzically, lifting a paw, tail brushing her heels curiously. Given the circumstances, this was... funny. So she didn't bother to conceal her amused giggles; what could he possibly be afraid of?

"...I'm not doing–" anything, she began to retort, but her words fell short. Wait, had he just been talking about magic? Like... magic, magic? That... wasn't real, was it? Did he think it was real? Oh boy. This was going to be... fun.

Volkan began to waltz toward him dramatically, ice-blue gaze fixed on the male, a devilish grin crossing her maw. "I won't stop my magic until... you... tell me your name!" she blurted, having started rather confidently but also having failed to think of what she was actually going to say. Never mind that Volk had no idea what magic he thought she was doing... hopefully he'd betray some clues or something?