Sex: MaleThe grey skies above seemed to foreshadow some sort of precipitation; higher up on the mountain it had already come in a light dusting of snow, barely enough to colour the ground white, and it would fade away by the time the afternoon warmth came. But it was the first herald of the approaching winter, a season which came with a coldness the young wolf did not much like. Every night the temperature dropped and he was forced to snuggle closer to the other wolves in the communal den, but he did so with some reluctance. He did not particularly want to snuggle up to his mother- both because he still hadn't forgiven her and because he didn't want to be seen as a baby who needed to cuddle with his mother for warmth.His coat, which had lightened considerably over the past weeks, causing him to look more like his biological mother now than his father, helped him blend in with the rocky environment. He was crouched against the ground in the shadows, trying to ignore the bite of the frost on the ground that chilled his toes. Yes, he'd be very happy when this winter thing had come and passed. His eyes, which had settled as a stormy shade of greyish blue, were locked onto a gopher; small and tan, which was scavenging for food along the mountainside. He could see where its hole was, and waited for it to stray far enough away.
There wasn't enough cover for a proper ambush, so he instead had to rely on his speed. Unfortunately, he had neither the speed nor the agility to catch the gopher, which took off as soon as the four month old pup began to give chase. It was much smaller and handled the scree better than the boy, who gangleed this way and that, trying in vain to make up the distance. He hadn't noticed that the gopher had had a whole system of backup holes and had disappeared down one before he'd had a chance to gain any ground. Frustrated, the young boy stopped at the hole, panting. He took up a growl and began to dig furiously at the gopher's hole even though he knew it was of no use.
"Damn rat!" He cursed, and, out of spite, began to set about kicking rocks and dirt over all the other gopher holes he could find along the side of the mountain. Even though he knew it could dig its way out again, he wanted to give it hell for getting away on him.
The massive wolf made his rounds before heading in to rest, even though he had log become accustomed to the mountains he still tired easily. The only downfall to his powerful stature, though it was an advantage in the cold and the light snowfall, for it lent the male near invisibility. He moved towards his personal den, it was always cold but still he was not allowed to approach the communal den. Another thing that he was sure would need to change soon, and allow him to claim his rightful place in the pack. But now his attention was pulled away from that predicament. The angry sounds Mercy made floated to him on the wind.
Crowe changed his pace and set his ears forward atop his white crown. He moved towards the sounds until he came upon Mercy digging at a hole, or filling it, which seemed peculiar, and cursing some animal. "Mercy, come away from those holes." It would seem from the look on the boy's face that some small animal had gotten the best of him. So Crowe offered his specialty, tactic and critical thinking. "You must await the right time to strike, control your anger, and use it to focus your next attack." A personal favorite of his, was waiting to strike when it was the most damaging, the best part of this strategy was that it doubled from battle to a hunt.
MERCY get your things, we're leaving when the morning birds are singing, we're sailing. Spitefully, he continued to fill the gopher holes with dirt and rocks, sometimes dramatically stepping on the filled in holes to pack the dirt in deeper, to make it harder for the creature to dig its way out. Basically, the boy was just being a pain in the ass toward the gopher- who likely had hundreds more escape holes and could, despite having its exits filled in, dig its way out quite easily. For Mercy, the act of filling in holes was instantly gratifying. It didn't matter to him that even if the gopher couldn't dig its way out, it'd never make a meal- it would die under ground out of the boy's reach. This would never happen, and it'd never get him a meal, but he didn't care. And for this reason he felt somewhat reluctant to abandon his efforts even when Crowe told him to stop. He looked up, but his anger wasn't quite stilled yet; he still wanted to fill in all the holes, fulfilling this useless need to do something destructive. He stopped what he was doing obediently, but didn't leave the holes just yet. He stared for a moment, down at the one he'd just filled, and growled softly. <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#fefefe;">"I want it to suffer." He said, in an almost toneless voice. But, haviing been given an order by the male he most respected, he slowly left the hole, moving toward Croew with slow steps, dragging his feet. He knew he was just being moody and it made him feel stupid. There he was, doing something completely useless when he should've been acting like a man and doing what Crowe said. He nodded softly when he was given hunting advice- he had plenty of anger to use, and appreciated what he was being told. He looked over his shoulder, back to where he'd been digging and scuffling. <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#fefefe;">"Hunting gophers is stupid." He said. Why use anger to fuel himself when all he was hunting was a small, measly gopher? They were pathetic little things that no real, respectable hunter would chase down. <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#fefefe;"> |
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"There was a time Mercy, when I was just as you are, I wanted things to suffer that didn't bend to my will." Crowe wondered for a moment how to go about this, there was the truth, that Mercy himself had brought Crowe from the brink of madness. But that would do nothing, possibly just swell the youths head, Crowe did not wish for him to do the things he had done. In a flash he came up with th perfect story, "But as time passed, I met wolves who showed me that there was no need to be vengeful and full of rage, but patient, for patience breeds good luck. It was this luck which brought me to befriend you. Now making it suffer will not help, however, we can always come back tomorrow and capture it then, that would be your exact revenge. For the little thing thinks it has outsmarted you."
Crowe gave what was probably the most normal smile he had given in recent months. It was not maniacal, it was not insane. He looked as though he were actually trying to help the youth, which as luck would have it he was. Crowe for all his tough exterior could not keep it up around Mercy. With any luck Mercy would agree and they could show the rodent that it was not as smart as it would have liked them to believe.
MERCY get your things, we're leaving when the morning birds are singing, we're sailing. No other wolf could tame Mercy's growing need to find some solution to the injustice he felt. His mother was certainly not first on his list- as he believed her not to be his mother, not even in an adopted way. She'd been forced to take him in out of pity, not out of love. He'd been created by some forbidden union which had ended in the death of his mother and his siblings. He hadn't been wanted. But when he was with Crowe, he felt appreciated- not for the bastard puppy that he was, but as the strong adult he wanted so much to be. He felt counselled, guided- even though it was somewhat against his brooding sense of injured pride. He didn't want to be taught- he wanted to already know everything. He didn't want to be schooled- he wanted to simply know, and be able to fend for himself. But somehow, Crowe made it easier for him to accept that he was a puppy. He did not condescend nor did he chastise. Instead, he offered reflection and anecdotes, and guidance. He didn't have much patience, nor did he want to have it- time moved too slowly for the boy who didn't want to wait for good luck, or to wait to get bigger and stronger. He wanted everything now, and childishly, he sighed. <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#fefefe;">"I don't want to wait for things. I just want..." What did he want? He gritted his teeth, and looked ahead with a steely glare. He opened his mouth suddenly, as though he'd discovered what he wanted, and turned sharply to look at Crowe- but something had changed in Crowe's appearance. There was a serenity and calm about him that made Mercy snap his trap shut again, and exhale slowly. Crowe's peace had a direct influence on the boy. <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#fefefe;"> "You promise we'll come back tomorrow and catch it?" He said, relinquishing most of his anger and looking to Crowe again, this time with much milder features. <b style="font-family:georgia; color:#fefefe;"> |
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But there right in the open Crowe had dropped his front half down to eye level with Mercy, "Come at me Mercy! I bet you can't take down Crowe!." He boasted and rose up to his full height before dropping back down into play position and waited for his young friend to respond. It was unlike Crowe to perform such an act and engage in "play" but then he felt more and more like his old self. Every second of every day, that Mercy was around, and with no interferences he had made great progress away from the insanity that once gripped him so. So here they were, Crowe a wolf who could still slip into insane fits and Mercy, a young bastard child. The strangest pair you could see. But it seemed they helped one another.
Though Crowe suggested that he should learn to use his wit rather than power, Mercy preferred to think that one day he'd be as big as his idol, and would be able to rely on his size and strength. This notion faded, though, when Crowe seemed to emphasize the importance of using one's brain...It made him wonder, then, if someone as big as him preferred to think rather than simply sling his weight around, if it was all that important to be big...Either way, he still wanted to be as big as- if not bigger than- Crowe. Just so that he could look tough.He was a bit surprised when Crowe invited him to playfight. Immediately, when Crowe bent down into a play-bow, Mercy did as well- simply out of instinct, more than anything. His head tilted to the side when Crowe taunted him. Crowe rose back up and, slightly offended that his sparring partner was using his height against him, Mercy barked- but Crowe bent back down, pleasing the pup. He bared his teeth and gowled, intermitantly barking and faking an attack, pouncing from side to side to see if he could throw Crowe off or confuse him so that he couldn't anticipate an attack. Of course, the boy lacked finesse and it was fairly obvious when he intended to leap at his partner- the butt-wiggle probably gave it away completely. He wanted to grab Crowe's scruff, now that his head was lowered, but made to grab and hold whatever he could!
A memory struck him as he played, of himself and his father, they had played this very same way. Crowe remembered riding around on his fathers neck just like this. But that was long ago, that was gone, his father had shunned him for a murder he didn't commit. One day he would have to face it. One day may come sooner than later with this winter threatening to drive him to beg Naira for entrance to the den so that he may survive. But these thoughts were fleeting before his mind traveled back to Mercy and he pretended to snap his jaws like he was going to gobble the boy up. All the while keeping careful balance so that Mercy wouldn't fall.
He'd caught him! After being met face to face with every move he made, Mercy was quite pleased to find that he'd managed to get a good grip on the thick fur along the back of Crowe's neck. He soon found out, though, that what he'd done would have little to no effect. Crowe was too big, and his fur and skin too thick, especially along the back of his neck. He remembered, now, why this was- he too had been given extra fur and skin along the nape of his neck, and his mother used to pick him up by it- and he'd felt no pain. So for such a large male like Crowe to have a pup hanging onto fur and skin which was even thicker and tougher than it had been when he'd been a pup, this was hardly painful at all. Mercy was lifted right up off the ground when Crowe stood, and even had the strength to rear and buck, trying to throw Mercy off.The boy did let go- this was a useless tactic. It would get him nowhere with Crowe, who was much larger, tougher. He had to think about his size, in comparison to Crowe's, and how he might use that against the larger male. He remembered, then what Crowe had said to him one day- about being so big that he couldn't run fast...Surely, then, Mercy would be much more nimble on his feet. He began to circle Crowe, occasionally switching directions at the drop of a hat- with the whip-like speed of a falcon and the nimble feet of a fox. Crowe was big, so Mercy couldn't use his weight to bring the male down...But he might be able to use his speed. He began to nip at Crowe's legs as he whipped around him, doing his best to make the large male dance- the fewer feet he had on the ground, the easier it would be to get him off balance.
Crowe smirked as he began to spin and twist in futile attempts to catch Mercy. A few times he made true grabs for the pup just to see, and he was surprised to find that indeed even if Crowe tried Mercy's heritage seemed to have lent him extraordinarily swift paws and Crowe could not catch him. So now it was time for Crowe to employ a counter tactic. All at once he dropped down with all for paws spread wide, now all he had to do was wait and pinpoint a spot where Mercy would be, every so often he would move backwards or forwards, just to Keep Mercy guessing. This would certainly be an enjoyable day for Crowe and one thathe could look back upon with fond memories. It was almost as if Mercy were his son. As strange as that thought was to Crowe. With Mercy it did not make him curl his lip in disgust as it did any other time he had thought of fatherhood.