Drooping Willows Might Hurt Someone

<blockquote><i>Middle of the Night / 48° F - 9° C / Misty rain</i> </blockquote>

<blockquote><i>You don’t know me ‘til you’ve seen me cry
You don’t own me, you won’t until the day that we die
You don’t notice that I try for you
Only you, it’s only you

‘Cause all I am is a blonde rebellion
Won’t hurt you, but I <b>might hurt someone</b>
Break you down ‘til you’re begging me to
Oh oh oh, one two three SHOUT</i></blockquote> <a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHTEDe2tx5Y' target='_blank'>Blonde Rebellion</a>

Glistening orange slits wandered in the dead of the night, clearly visible against the falling rain. It was too cloudy to see the flickering stars, the entire territory was nothing but a black obis. Her eyes were the only colour, burning like a fire through even the densest shield. It was a perfect night for traveling, for the precipitation wasn’t racing down in violent splashes but instead was hanging in the air much like fog. A far away glimpse revealed little about the she-wolf, just enough to prove the thickness of her muscles and the quickness of her muddy paws. Her entire body was drenched, brown up to her stomach in wet dirt. She sat under the secrecy of a willow, head strained with watery ears pinned to her head. Just because it was the perfect night for traveling, didn’t mean she was willing to accept it. The creature did not lay on the ground and rest, nor did she leave her comfortable shelter. This was just a precaution that needed to be taken, and so she’d wait until the falling liquid let up.

If it ever would.

She sat and watched the haze drift around, messing with her eye-sight and hiding predators. Her upper-lip twitched at the thought, showing thumb sized canines and a salmon pink tongue. A bear could be approaching that second, and through the thick cloud of silver she’d have never known until it was right in her face. She dared it to happen. At that second, not even the largest demon could push her around. She wanted a fight. The heavy veil was an enemy, one who couldn’t tremble beneath her attacks. There was nothing she could do but watch and hope it cleared away by morning. She felt powerless. Desperate to prove her dominance she let out a piercing howl that echoed the forest like a church bell, claiming the world as hers. It drifted off into the air, leaving an eerie silence to take control.

<b>“Stop with the bullshit already!”</b> Her mother used to joke about rain dances, with a family of loners drinking was always an issue. When the heat was unbearable, and the only water source was claimed by a pack, your own piss started looking mighty fine. That was what this precipitation was, falling piss that was in her way to getting home. Was there a take-back-the-rain dance?

She doubted it.

Her lethal body was still threatening, the rain holding onto her pelt until it clenched against her lean figure. It was the anger floating off her that made the biggest impact, with already snarling lips and bristling fur. Her legs were locked and stiff with dominance, tail trying to be weighed down but instead floated above her head. She hated the forest. She wanted to go back home to the mountains and forget this experience. She wanted to bite something, use her claws and tear the bark of a tree. This was not a good time to run into another wolf.

OOC: I was thinking Sibyl could just be looking for some shelter and end up hiding under the tree as Treena. We can have it go Sibyl either refuses to leave, or Treena loses her mind and just bites to show dominance. Maybe Sibyl just runs into her by mistake? Treena takes it as a sign of violence.

/Shrug. Let's make it interesting, shall we?

(This post was last modified: May 31, 2012, 02:02 AM by Treena.)

The dark night and misty rain hung around her like a thick cloth, erasing perception any further than a few yards ahead. It was as if she walked along a deep canyon on the sea-floor, it was just as wet, dark, and cold. While there was not the weight of tons of water pressing down on her, the rain that had soaked into her pelt felt just as heavy. Her phobia had caused her to try and make her way back to Cedarwood Forest while avoiding any trees she could along the way. Once she got back there, under the acceptable yet still intimidating cover of the cedars, she could find a little nook and sleep off the drizzly night. But she had been caught out in the rain when evening set in and it had started to really come down. She was an easy target for the rain out in the open and had to make a dash towards the willows to keep from being too exposed.

Even shaking out her fur couldn’t quite get her dry. She just felt more and more miserable by the moment. She hated being out in this weather. Scents and tracks were erased and sound was muffled by the constant plop and plip of rain hitting leaves and earth. It was difficult to tell if any menacing creature was hiding out just around the next tree or turn, and even then something could probably sit dead ahead in her path and she wouldn’t know until she came upon it. She imagined giant gnarled beasts crouched down just out of sight; their ragged snarls just quiet enough for the rain to cover. The little brown wolf had begun to frighten herself and quickened her pace. She just wanted to just get home and forget about this nasty night. Her red ears were folded back, her tail was curled up beneath her, and her tongue hanging out in a pant as she ran.

She ran blindly through the willows, occasionally scraping her side against a tree or stumbling over a grasping root. Each little brush or trip brought her into an even greater frenzy, as she couldn’t really see what was brushing against her sides or snagging at her paws, and she could only imagine the worst. What little she could see through the rain and darkness became grotesque faces and claws morphed by fear. Somewhere she vaguely recognized a howl in the direction she was headed but it was currently the least of her worries, as she was convinced there was a horde of monsters on her tail.

Sibyl didn’t notice the wolf beneath the willow tree until it was too late to stop. She dug her already muddied heels into the damp earth, but instead of stopping her paws slid and sank into the muck and she careened right towards the stranger as if the slippery ground were an ice-rink. Predicting an imminent impact, Sibyl ducked her neck down so that she wouldn’t ram nose-first into the stranger.

The she-wolf let out a growl of outrage, hiding the fear. The smell of wolf invading her mindset, like a game of chess she wanted to win, but couldn’t find a way to defeat her own opponent. Each move was quietly calculated as a risk, which needed careful inspection. She was picturing a predator, a creature much larger than the tiny Sibyl. She did not see a wolf. Instead she saw a water demon that had come to brutally kill her, booming through the willow’s shelter and into her domain. The pounding blood vibrated the she-wolf’s ears, followed by the spattering rain. The noises sent shivers down her bristling fur, but couldn’t be stopped. She had to endure it. The setting around was gloomy, feeding off the happiness until it was nearly gone from the wolf. It was clear all that was left was aggression, her body drowning in it, eyes blazing in bloodlust.

It was the confusion, the feeling of being trapped. Here, a wolf of another pack advancing. She had not prepared herself, nor did she have the time. Her body took over, mind suddenly forgotten along the way. The darkness tinted around her warning smile, gleaming dangerously. Instinctively, she wanted to stumble back, but she was no longer the weak loner she used to be. She was returning to a healthy weight, her fangs recently sharpened and claws like mini-knives. She had no reason to submit, and so, when the wolf made even slight contact with her body, she stood straight and took it. Her tail stretched flat out, body curving on an angle and ears flat down. Her incisor teeth showed in a deadly snarl, threatening the wolf back.

There were no words to be said, it was all actions. As soon as the wolf had stumbled, Treena was prepared, her body preparing to pounce. She did not want to be run out, or chased, or attacked. She wanted to be the winner for once, to actually leave an encounter like this with her pride still intact and dignity alive. That was another reason her jaws opened, she wanted to prove to herself she could be dominate. Her neck strained forward to try and grab hold of the wolf’s muzzle, but her aim was a little off and could easily have grabbed a mouthful of air. There wasn’t much reason behind it, she just snapped, warning the other away.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/sibtable1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 315px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;">It was too late Sibyl saw the expression on the she-wolf’s face, the wicked toothy grimace, and it was too late she heard the snarl that emerged from her throat. Sibyl’s shoulder pushed into Treena with the impact, bringing her to a stop but the other had not budged. Sibyl staggered back a couple steps to try to regain her footing and distance, but still slipping with each step in the slick mud. Her head was low and pulled back towards her shoulders, tail pulled down so far that her back slumped. She had been so worried about the monsters at her tail that she had instead had run right into one. The whites of her eyes shown at the corners and she folded her red ears back as she looked up at the wolf with fear.

All too well Sibyl recognized her stance; The unbridled anger looking for an outlet, like a lightening bolt seeking the easiest path through which to strike down. It was often her sister had stood over her in much the same way, teeth bared and voice wordlessly threatening. At that thought a fresh surge of adrenaline pulsed through her body in an instant and every nerve felt electrified. The patter of the rain was drowned out by the sound of blood roaring in her ears. She kept her eyes on Treena, and time simultaneously seemed to move too fast and too slow. Sibyl watched as the snarling maw of the wolf parted, neck extended towards her face. The attack was so sudden, so unexpected that Sibyl barely had time to flinchingly duck down out of the way. She felt fangs pinch at the side of her snout, glancing against the fur and skin but not able to grab hold of her jaw. It hurt a little but she was at least lucky enough to remain free. She let out a whimper and took another slippery step back, staring wide-eyed at the furious lady.

“H-hey! Ma’am, I’m sorry,” Sibyl yelped, not entirely sure that an apology was any good here. “I didn’t mean to run into you, it’s just so dark out,” she explained, her voice tiny and trembling.

OOC: I feel terrible writing this >.< Feel free for Sibyl to get a good mouthful of Treena if you want, it's all just a bunch of swatting at air and growling for her though :D

The wolf was menacing, her body shaking with each growl that left her body. Her ears were still pulled back, just as far as her lips. Her nose was raised to show her lightened red gums, saliva dripping from off her deadly sharp fangs and onto the rainy floor. The puddle around her paws could pass for rain, but nearly a half was her own drool being spat out warningly. It flew to the ground and sat there, watching. It was fear that was now manipulating her mind, she couldn’t control anything anymore. Each moment was total instinct. There was no common sense behind any action. It was like a bad nightmare she couldn’t awake from, no matter how hard she demanded. She had dreams like this before, of a storm and attacker, all wrapped into one bundle of joy beneath the darkened sky. The crack of lightening started out soft, but within a couple seconds had turned into a death snap one can only imagine. The slight mist had turned into a blanket of falling rain, covering everything with the wetness. The land around her was black. The grey clouds covered the sky fully, not a single gap of light escaping. It was ebony, wet, and smelt of danger.

Perfect.

The situation really had an aroma like no other, for the smells coming off both she-wolves smashed into one another like the clouds above. It was overwhelming, but still Poison Path managed to ride over the mess and make its power known. With the sense of sniffing, came the sense of hearing. Each one of the female’s growls serenaded the thunder above, riding over the heart hammering booms happily. It matched quite well with the stench, well paired for such a moment. Like a play presented on a dramatic stage, things seemed planned for an audience. Had a crowd been watching, and the thrumming bass-line matching the stormy bangs, squeals of panic and fear would have escaped a professional wrestler’s mouth. No one could ignore this five star thriller.

The timber wolf did look like a monster, merely a shadow of the devil himself, altered with computer graphics to seem more man like than wolf. She towered over everything, shaking with what seemed like anger, but was mostly fear. It was silly to be afraid, it was not her being assaulted, but the storm provoked some sort of anxiety in the wolf which drove her to a form of insanity. In her own view of things, she was the victim. Sibyl was a trespasser, a <span class='word'>varlet</span> of some sort, and a threat. Yet, when the female spoke, things were proven different. It was all a misunderstanding that Treena was unable to understand, fore her own mind was cluttered with paranoia and she struggled to stay realistic. Lawful good didn’t mean incapable of mistakes. Justice would be served, and Treena would pass the final judgment through murky, unreliable vision. It had already gone too far, things could not be spoken out like the wolf would naturally suggest. She couldn’t find her own voice anyways. It must have been stuck beneath a throbbing heart and clenched fangs. Instead her body pulled back, weighing heavily with water, and tensed, like a cat preparing to pounce.

She <i>sure</i> didn’t look like Little Treena now.

She looked like Big, Berserk Treena.

The one you crossed the path to avoid.

The one who belonged in Poison Path Pack.

The same went when her forepaws left the ground, standing on her back-legs to let out a piercing howl. There was no escape now, had the tiny wolf wanted to run, Treena would chase after. Just to make sure she didn’t return. This was war, and Sibyl had a large range of options to choose from.

ooc: aww don't worry, its fine! As long as she doesn't get killed it's all good :)

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/sibtable1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 315px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;"> It was as if the lesser devil in wolf form which stood before her had somehow conjured the drizzling night into angry storm. The rain only seemed to amplify with each spitting snarl, and Sibyl considered this was one of the witches her aunt had warned her about as a pup. She couldn’t imagine what had brought on such anger in her direction. She was transfixed, trapped before the raging beast and unable to move. Her apology seemed to go unheeded and she was at a loss for what to do. She hadn’t expected a response but it was still disheartening. Scared and shaking she curled further into herself, turning into little more than a shivering wet ball with teeth bared in a futile threat. As the thunder began to boom overhead she flinched back, a scared wail coming from her. The lightening only served to amplify the diabolical environment of the scene.

Sibyl’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of this mess. Words obviously did not work here, where the primal emotion of the thunderous flashing sky reflected perfectly into the wild eyes of her adversary. She would have liked to roll over and admit surrender but she couldn’t trust the furious unknown wolf, that she wouldn’t tear Sibyl’s throat open instead if she gave her the chance. But she was also afraid to turn her back to the she-wolf, where she couldn’t see what she was going to do next. So she dug her heels into the damp earth and prepared herself for the worst. Slowly, small panicked growls worked their way out of her clenched teeth, but they sounded disembodied to her, and she did not realize where they came from and they only served to scare her further.

As Treena leaned back, muscles taught, Sibyl also pulled back, preparing for what she wasn’t sure. The air was thick with tension, and like an arrow released from a bow Treena launched into the air, splitting the night with a deafening howl. If it was meant to intimidate the little wolf it had worked. The earth beneath her seemed unsteady and trembling; while in reality it was her shaky knees barely working to hold her up. The air felt too thick to breathe, thick and sticky with scents of rain and ozone and fear. Her head felt light and the world spun around her in a macabre carousel of fangs and rain and lightening. Her limbs moved on their own, her body carrying her mind along for the ride. She lunged forward but it felt as if the ground had dropped out beneath her. Her rational mind had become a passenger to fear driven instinct, and somewhere in the back of her mind she could only watch her petite body leap up at Treena to bark and snap aimlessly, forelimbs flailing uselessly in the air. She wasn’t a fighter, there was no grace to her motions and they felt alien to her, literally all bark and no bite.

The collision was deadly. Outstretched paws, fang sharp teeth, eyes narrowed to slits. Treena was stronger than Sibyl, with higher endurance and a larger frame. Had it been a race, the tiny wolf would have run laps around the larger timber female, but that was not the case. The screams of pain when each attack hit, of growls and snarls each passing second, proved it was much more.

It was a fight.

Treena felt little pain, a claw or so dug into her body every couple of seconds, but it was nothing like the fight with Marsh. Her flesh was like stone, impossible to break open, indestructible. It was now her with the upper-hand. Her moves were edge-on, well sculpted using pure instinct and strategy. She had the history and the knowledge it took to succeed, all she had to do was apply it to the playing field. When her paws met Sibyl in the air, it was a game of balance. Shifting on her back-legs, the majestic wolf used her body weight to endure the force and pull back. Her plan was to topple over Sibyl and pin her to the ground.

Her white chest was dripping in mud, pressed up against the other female pushing with a desperate and determined force, strong jaw snapping at the other. All the anger that had built up inside was realized, savage nails searching and ripping flesh. It felt natural, so unlike her, yet right. Each snap directed towards the victim gave her a surge of power, made her believe she was doing the right thing even more.

She couldn’t kill, the thought wasn’t possible. She could defend, and I use the term lightly. She pretended it was self-defence, not pure bloodlust, not the fear, not the mental scarring which was so supressed not even her sub-conscious acknowledged it. Her mouth burned, it tingled in the heat of frustration. The cards were in her hand, but things were moving too slow. She wanted the smaller wolf to fall and run away for good. She wanted to be alone once again under her shelter, where no danger threatened her.

Well shaped body was curved and slightly bloody, her forepaws slashing down so quickly they were nothing but a blur. Her eyes were tinted with a certain kind of madness, one that matched the grey storm clouds above perfectly. The pitter-patter of rain hitting the leaves matched the rhythm of her beating heart. She was a machine of aggression.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/sibtable1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 315px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;">There was a metallic taste in her mouth, blood from a cut on her snout snaking its way down her jaw. Her entire body stung, and there were probably countless others scrapes scattered across her body by now. She was overwhelmed, blows and bites landing on her so quickly she felt like she were fighting a thousand wolves instead of only one. Her opponent was like a force of nature, a whirlwind, unpredictable and savage. Sometimes Sibyl’s claws met Treena’s body, but there was no strength behind her strikes to cause any real damage. She had never been in a fight like this before, never had she stuck around an angry wolf long enough for things to escalate so badly. And if she made it out alive she'd never get into one again.

She had to get out of here. This was no place for a wolf like her and if she stayed any longer her chances of survival would be slim. This time instinct was urging her to retreat, and who was she to deny it? So what if her tail got bit off in the escape, it was better than her throat. Unbalanced on two legs she stepped back to pull away, hoping to get all fours on the ground and run like she should have done in the first place. It was then Treena had shoved towards her, teeth flashing in her face, landing slices along the sides of her head as Sibyl thrashed about to avoid them. She became unstable at the shove and the weight of the other she-wolf against her made her stagger and slip in the mud, and with that Treena rocked her backwards off her feet. Everything flipped upside-down, and with a muddy squelch she landed on her back and the air knocked out of her with a yelp.

It was the rush that kept Treena on her toes, prepared for any movement the other wolf could make. It was extremely slippery, even her knowledgeable golden paws struggled for a proper place in the mud, trying her best to hold out. She wanted to get down on all fours once more, things were getting quite uncomfortable. It wasn’t natural to be standing like this, but whom better to fight instinct than a Poison Path wolf? She felt Sibyl collapsing before she saw it, relief washing over her like the falling rain above. It was almost like a new face, the way her eyes lost the stressed appearance, losing the tensely gleam. It was bad, just dangerous weather to be fighting in, even the female knew that. Yet, like a cat, Treena always landed on her paws. Tumbling down, the women managed to keep her position and balance, eyes wide and observant, calculating the safest place to tumble. Her teeth trembled inside her mouth, such an angry and violent growl echoing through her chest. A section of her mind told her enough was enough. Things were getting too dangerous as it was. She didn’t want to get hurt, return to the pack useless. Had it been sunny, she could do this all day, just to play with the other wolf and see how far she could go. That, though, was not an option with the risk of slipping. She wanted to finish this, just to prove to herself she could, but her worried paranoia kept getting in the way.

Of course she knew she could finish this, she was more than half-way there. She just had to pin the wolf down, get her paws on the shoulders and show her strength. By now though, each grasp slipped out of reach and a snarl of frustration left her mouth. Her paws were too wet, as was the other muddy wolf. She couldn’t get the hold she needed to win because of the stupid precipitation that clung to her fur.

This was so unfair.

She couldn’t just leap off either and let the wolf run. That would be pure stupidity and idiotic. She had to find a hold somewhere, and she did. That magical hold was upon the she-wolf’s side, where Treena (if she could just get there) could grab onto the fur and tug. If was just a matter of shifting her over.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v201/bluepups/sibtable1.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-top: 315px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; text-align:justify;">Sibyl writhed uncomfortably as Treena kept slipping and stepping her muddied paws all over the tiny wolf. It a different circumstance it might have even tickled and Sibyl might have even laughed. But the reality of it was her assailant was working on an attack, trying to pin her into place, trapping Sibyl into a nightmare she wanted nothing to do with any longer. Sibyl snapped at her prodding paws, trying to get them off of her so she could just get up and run. She pushed up against the weight of Treena bearing down on her as she tried to wriggle free, but it was too much for Sibyl’s weak frame to remove.

She tried to roll herself over, get her feet to the floor and slip away. But Treena was succeeding in wrestling her to the ground and it was hard to get any room to budge and flip over. The brown wolf shook and trembled with fear, and there was a wild look in her eyes, frantic and wholly animal. Her struggle was stifled when Treena had found a hold with paws on her narrow shoulders. The form of the she-wolf above her was starkly outlined by the flashes of lightning. With the small amount of light cast by the sporadic lightning Sibyl could tell Treena was trying to sink her fangs into the flesh on her side. Finally Treena had found her mark, and Sibyl, feeling fangs bite into her fur and skin made a terrified yowl and renewed her efforts at escape. She moved her hind legs up underneath Treena’s belly and started kicking and clawing in an effort to get free. She had no in intentions of harm, she only meant to get the wolf off of her.