The Wildwood the way we bruise

<blockquote><i>This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.</i>

His heart beat a slow tempo across his chest, ear pressed comfortably against the grass, creating a magnified hollow to the inner sounds of his body. The steady thrum of blood against his ears was a small comfort, making him all the more aware of the delicate trickles of his own life; the cool blades of grass that cushioned the length of his body, the morning dew dampening his fur and exposing the curve of a muscle, the small ant that marched across his paw, stirring the hairs on his foot so that it twitched in reflex, it all combined, slowly penetrating, until he awoke.

<i>Reality.</i>

His eyes snapped open. And then closed.

His scrunched his eyes tightly, the cool shadows of the trees too much light for his retinas to handle. Snippets from his previous evening played through his vision, reminding him of the reason why he awoken with such a wicked headache the morning after.

Funny, the images that one's mind sears into memory. The flash of the scent of an early fawn. The high blades of grass that both obstructed his view and kept him under cover. The overpowering scent of recently spilled blood. The not quite dry back of a spotted fawn. The way the recently taxed doe had loomed from his right. A sharp pain in his muzzle. Running. And while he remembered the scenes of the incident all too well, it was the back of the fawn that lay emblazoned in his memory. The way the downy fur mixed with the patches of wetness, creating a dark, looming contrast between the light brown and the bright spots that were strewn across it's small body. It was that same image that consumed the darkness behind his eyes before he began to squint narrowly, allowing light to reach his eyes millimeter by millimeter until they were finally open and viewing the sun spotted fields in front of him.

He lay on the southern edge of the Wildwood, peering out into the expanse of fields that crawled quickly south until they were met with another tree line. He didn't remember choosing the place, only now that it was pleasantly comfortable here. The sound of a creek nearby was what stirred him into movement. Limbering to his feet, he made his way slowly westward, tongue flashing out to slide across his jowls before they opened in a wide yawn. The taste of dried blood and the aching that the movement brought on told him that he had been lucky. A hoof to the muzzle had merely badly bruised him, laying a gash open. Had the creature not been fatigued, she might have easily done more damage.

As it was, he slipped toward the edge of the creek with a banged up snout and an empty stomach. At this time in the morning, that was all the damage he needed. </blockquote>

(This post was last modified: Apr 07, 2012, 06:04 PM by Mateo.)

	I used to be involved, and I felt like a king...
	He had left his encounter with Rhysis more confused than when he had arrived. So the lad had his pack now, he had his bitch, but he was in trouble. And now it fell to him to rally a pack of his own to pull the boy's sorry arse out of the hole it had dug for itself. The fool had suggested he challenge for leadership of the Hollow. Was he insane? Sure there was more work in rallying a pack of your own, but at least you knew there was going to be at least a little loyalty there. Would the Hollow wolves come after him like the River wolves were doing to Rhysis? Most of them would probably be happy to see the back of him, he had really only bonded with two of them. Borden was well on his way to being leader again. Would Kade stay? Any wolf would have to be blind not to see the love he held for Jayse, that probably was unless you were Jayse herself. It was all so complicated. No. He didn't want to lead the Hollow. In fact, he didn't even know if he wanted to go back. The trees of the wildwood surrounded him. He had deliberately chosen to avoid the sooted charred remains of the other half, partly for vain reasons, partly because if he did decide to go back to the cedar trees that surrounded his home he didn't want to rub it in that he had been gallivanting half way across the lore... well all the way across the lore. Even though he had been gone for a little over a week, he doubted his presence was missed. One less mouth to feed meant less stress on the caches. If only he knew the truth of it. The sound of running water drew him closer. Yes it was time for a break, no matter how short lived. If he had been less of a fool, he would have used his nose to tell him there was another male nearby, as it was, he was too exhausted and wrapped in his own thoughts to care who he stumbled across. As it was it was the absolute last possible moment that he spotted the darker male, facing away from him and lapping at the water. It wasn't often that Valiant encountered a wolf so close to his own height and weight. Sure Rhysis was a little taller, but he was all legs. This wolf looked like he knew how to brawl. Perhaps a little of the younger wolf was already rubbing off on him. A quick sniff told him the brute was a loner, injured judging from the smell of blood, but otherwise available. Dragging his knuckles through the leaf litter to make sure his presence was known he moved down to the water himself. A few wolf lengths from the other (after all it never hurt to play it safe) and lowered his head for a drink himself before sitting on his rear with a 'humph'. He would wait to see if the stranger spoke first, but otherwise, he tried to appear oblivious to the other wolfs existence. Give him a chance to adjust to his presence first.
	Now I've lost it all and I don't feel a thing...

<i>OOC: Dear Lord, this was long. Don't mind me, just trying to get my feel back for Teo. x3</i>

<blockquote>The steady stab of his inital headache had lulled into a slow ache, enticed to reapear only when he made sudden movements of his head. As such, he was inclined to think that today was going to be a meandering day. At least until he had managed to calm the angry beast that lay beneath his skull. He wasn’t particularly inclined to do much more than that anyway; the only possible thing that would bring him to speeds above two kilometers per hour was an assured meal of flesh. He might even take the time to circle back towards the area where he had encountered the fawn. The small family’s tracks would surely still be there and perhaps more predators had been drawn in. It might turn out to be a worth while venture. And thus, with the day’s activities given vague shape, his ponderings brought him to the lip of the creek.

His ears twitched, rotating keenly as the sound of moving water reached it’s peak volume. Little doubt there would be creatures venturing around the water source throughout the day, though he wasn’t particularly keen on being taken unawares. His gaze shifted evenly around him, taking note of a small ground squirrel taking priority with a bundle of leaves under a tree on the opposite shore. At the moment, it seemed to be his only company. It’s scent traveled coyly towards him before slipping away on light breeze.

The creek was wide at this point, and higher than usual with the spring run off; the noise was just enough to dull the rustling across the shore, but far from being able to eliminate it. As he strolled delicately into the cold waters, the rustling stopped abruptly. His own attention on his footing beneath the liquid, his eyes closed in a revelling moment, taking it as his own and ignoring what the surrounding area had to offer. A minute later and there was an abrupt sound of sprawling leaves and a loud chitter before the same, slow rustle from earlier picked back up after a minute or so. It was just as well. The creature had nothing to fear from him in this moment.

His eyes opened an he scanned the area once more, now facing the shore from which he had come. Dipping his head low, he drank from the middle of the creek, ears shifting minutely in order to keep him aware of what he could not see.

There were three things that indicated the other’s approach.

The first was another burst of movement from the squirrel disturbing the leaves, followed by angry chittering, the light scrabble of claws up a tree and then silence. The second was the same breeze that had brought him the squirrel’s scent, though this time it carried with it the scent of someone his own species before it turned aside, leaving him to ponder on the scent. His body immediately stiffened, his tongue rolling neatly back between his teeth, and he froze, listening for the sound of an approach.

Any burst of speed in an attack would bring the other wolf into contact with the water, at which point Mateo would know roughly the time at which to turn and meet the other wolf with teeth by estimating the location of the sound and level of volume, thus giving him the time it might possible take the other to reach him; he would only be thrown if the other decided to leap into an attack and meet him from above. At which point they would have had to be an excellent springer considering his own height and the level ground that surrounded the creek. Unlikely, but not impossible.

As it was, the slow drag of paws across leaves indicated a much slower approach, and from the sound of it, not one that was meant to go unnoticed. He paused for a moment, considering his options.

He was roughly north of every pack he had yet discovered in the area, including the new one that had set up near Riddle Heights; this was the furthest North he had traveled. Even then, they were a comfortable enough distance away to note that he probably didn’t have much to worry about in the way of pack politics. Which was what he wanted to avoid in the first place. There had been no voluntary action on his part to delve into the packs in the area and he didn’t have any plans to. With such considerations in mind, he turned towards the other, body still stiffly on guard, though his eyes met the other with calculation, expressionless otherwise. His gaze followed the other male as he took his drink and settled onto his haunches. A moments pause before Mateo took the invitation and plopped himself into the water, the stream pulling slowly at his haunches. His eyes remained vigilant in their observations of the other’s movements and general appeal, though eventually he did add speech to the quaint scene.

<b>Pleasant morning.</b>

It was wording that implied both statement and question, interrogative implied by the slight change in expression in his brows as they raised slightly just as the statement implied his own experience with no pitch turned upward. My, what a observation owl he was today. </blockquote>

(This post was last modified: Apr 09, 2012, 03:44 AM by Mateo.)

Sorry this is horribly short, I'm trying to get back into the swing of posting with Val.

	I believe in Kingdom Come...
	As the mild words crossed the distance between them he slowly turned his head to look at the other male, his ears weren't pinned to his head, but were slightly angled back. He closely observed the condition of the brute before him without making eye contact out of respect. That kick to the face looked painfulI. It would make hunting and eating difficult for a few days at least... "It is. Not quite quick enough ay?" he questioned with a small smile, his teasing tone conveying there was no harm intended by his words, he wasn't the fastest wolf either. Taking a moment to casually stretch, his fur separated enough to show the large pink scar on his flank that his fur hadn't have time to grow back over yet. "Not so quick myself, makes catching dinner alone a bit of a challenge." he said conversationally. He didn't particularly care how the other male had gotten his face smashed up, he just wasn't that caring. What he did want to find out though was if this wolf could be of any use to him. If that meant he had to help the other hunt, then so be it. But he wasn't the type to offer, the other wolf would have to ask for his assistance.
	And all the colours will bleed into one...

<i>OOC</i>: No worries. <3


<blockquote>The creek was busy making what it would of the new obstacle seated in it’s path. It was a firm push on one side of his body while a pulling motion had picked up on his other. The fur caught up in the midst of it was parted easily once it had seperated the guard hairs and saturated the fur beneath. Teo was torn between the feeling of refreshment one gets in the minutes after dunking into water after a morning of high activity and the feeling that if the current got much stronger or higher he was going to be hardpressed to keep himself in a position that wasn’t going to have him sliding across the smooth stones and silt beneath the surface. He didn’t want to become a living top in front of the wolf in an area that would alternatively offer him some advantage if things went awry.

For now, though, he was content where he sat.

The words of the other slipped across the sounds of the water, dulling them, but still loud enough for him not to have to strain to hear. A small smile of his own slipped across his lips appeared, though it lingered for a mere moment before it slipped away once more with the trailing water around him.

<b>"Not quite."</b>

A quick flash of his tongue across his jowls told him that the blood had loosened from it’s dried state and had begun to wipe away with the wetness from the water, though a fair amount of it still clung to his muzzle. He would do well to wash the rest of it away soon, else he might well have infection set in. He was certain today’s pain was only a taste of what he would feel tomorrow morning. The second day was always the worst, at least in terms of bad bruising. He was sure the headache would heal itself as the day went on.

Even so, he would push himself to move at any speed if he had to. He could always grumble about it later and find a quiet place in the creek to drown himself.

His eyes flicked across the naked scar that broken the flow of the other wolf’s fur. Though the wolf could have easily gotten the scar in another manner, his words implied that he too had had a run in with a particularly well spirited prey item. <b>"A bit. But you do it for long enough and you learn what you should and shouldn’t do."</b> He shrugged.

<b>"You shouldn’t be stupid. But what do they say...?"</b> He was actually uncertain if it was the right saying. He should probably culture himself again. <b>"-shit happens."</b></blockquote>

(This post was last modified: Apr 18, 2012, 11:06 PM by Mateo.)