Ghastly Woods if i had a heart

It could be worse, he supposed.  He had all his limbs intact, had no massive healing wounds to tend to.  Travel was easy enough, though Kjors couldn't help but detest the idea that he was absolutely alone.  Pack life hadn't suited him last he tried – the right side of his face as a memorial to his eternal sense of pride – but life with one other wolf seemed to work well enough.  They kept each other fed, the shared den had always been warm.  His badger woman had made good company, good conversation, and a good fellow-in-arms.

And here he was, without her.

Squashing his ire down to size, the dark wolf slithered free from his newly dug den, shaking his thick pelt as damp earth showered the nearby undergrowth.  Inhaling the scent of fresh soil, he wrinkled his muzzle before casting it to the sky, scenting the rolling spring breeze as his tail swished behind him.  No matter his current state of affairs, one matter demanded to be seen to – his hunger.  Alone or otherwise, a wolf still needed to eat.  He'd gone days on his paws, and now that he had a relatively safe place to rest his head, the small male knew it would behoove him to find a meal.  The less energy he had to spend, the better.

Unfortunately, the stench of carrion was not detectable in the nearby area, and Kjors resigned himself to the notion that he would have to catch his own prey.  No difficult task, but it required far more investment on his part.  Slinking through the shadows, he found a grown-over place to hide – and there he stayed, springing only when a particularly chubby squirrel wandered too close.  The critter was gone in two snaps of his jaws.  Licking the blood from his maw, he sighed.

"Not enough.  Never enough."

(This post was last modified: Apr 07, 2015, 04:49 PM by Serach.)

A moth to incandescent flame, she is drawn to her maker.

The mongrel observes her familiar with characteristic poise, from within the bracken; despite the rampant need, the urgent desire, which courses through such a thick frame, Urotho remains true to her soundness of mind. Not even reunion can usher her from the stronghold and she, basking in the thought of what is to come, finds aching legs incapable of motion.

It had been months, perhaps, since the two were torn from one another; he by distance, and her by another’s yearning for vengeance. The female’s ears draw to her skull as she reminisces, the casually-healing wounds which cluster about her chest and neck serving as dull reminders of the events past; Urotho had been used and yet, here, standing before a typically-miserable Kjors, there is a part of her which grows soothed.

The rabbit within the vice of her jaws twitches, and it is this which propels her previously-hesitant motivation.

The canine is unhurried, in her approach; her hulking frame slips from within the trees with unethical ease, each massive stride teeming of purpose and calculation – even still, her eyes never stray from his own. As russet and ash are pulled from the canopy’s veil, Urotho reveals herself to her friend with unwavering confidence even despite the hammering of her heart within the seemingly-ill confines of her broad chest. It is eerie. It is fascinating.

Again the femme’s ears plaster against her skull, though this time it is in semblance of respect; her grizzled head lowers and – slowly, carefully – the woman places the hare at the feet of the dragon she had grown so unusually fond of.

“Never is too resolute a word, Kjors.” Her voice is low, heard barely over the breeze which whispers between the gnarled trees. “It leaves such little room for hope.”

Hope you don't mind me joining in. :) This is a new character, so I'm still fleshing her out.

The winter months had been cold, brutal, and not particularly kind to Sparrow. Lack of food had forced her out of her birth pack and into the harsh realities of the life of a lone wolf for the first time. The first few days had been the hardest, but every day after that had been a little bit easier. Eventually, the brown furred she-wolf had grown accustomed to the silence and despite the consistent pangs of hunger, her demeanor was quite chipper considering her circumstances.

As fate would have it, the yearling girl had been forced to keep away from most of the packs she had come across in her travels. Spring was a dangerous time to try and seek acceptance into a foreign pack. With tensions and hormones running high, after the first few rejections, Sparrow had made the decision to stay away and stick to the unclaimed territories between the packs. It was just safer that way, after all. Eventually, her rather aimless wandering had led her to Relic Lore. She had been lurking in the forests of the region, rather impressed by the {wotd}panoply[/wotd] of packs that this place had to offer, but fear of her prior experiences had kept her as far away from their borders as she could possibly be.

Other lone wolves, though, was another matter. Typically, they were in no better shape than she was, and her youthful and cheerful demeanor did not lend itself to caution around those she did not deem a threat. So when she crossed paths with the scents of an older male lone wolf, curiosity got the better of her and she decided to follow. Perhaps he was a native and would be able to tell her more about the packs in this area? A grin on her face, the girl loped forward, eager to have a conversation with someone other than herself for the first time in a long time.

As the scent grew stronger, Sparrow's eagerness grew along with it, but she wasn't so stupid as to rush in blind. She slowed her pace to an easy walk, turning her head this way and that. Nothing particularly interesting about this patch of woods, as far as she could tell. The gnarled trees were beginning to bloom with green again, and soon would be filled with birds. No wolves though, at least not that she could see, though she could certainly smell them. Coming to a stop, she furrowed her brow in confusion before throwing caution to the wind and calling out, <b>"Hello? Is there anybody there?"</b>

It is a familiar scent, one he could never forget, that has the wolf snapping to attention.  His entire body is rigid as he sucks his tongue back into his mouth, ears straining forward for any sound when she appears.  A welcome specter, his massive shadow appears from the thick forest, as elegant and easy as she had ever been.  A cruel smile bares his teeth, golden eye narrowed as he studied her gait.  "Urotho," he breathed, reverent.  Oh, to worship at the alter of his particular goddess, the mirror of his soul.

Broken edges felt smoother – easier – kinder, for just one moment, and he moved, meeting his companion with a short bark and perked ears.  So different, than their first encounter – and yet, one thousand questions on the tip of his tongue.  Where had she been?  Had she always been so close, just out of reach?  Why was she back to him now?  As he halts, the gift is placed before him, and the gesture is not lost on him – when he announced he would court her, properly so, it was with the gift of a snowshoe hair at the female's large den.  And here she was, with a meal for a hungry wolf.

Did it beg forgiveness?  Or was it simply a continuation of where they'd once begun?

He demanded one thousand answers, but they would wait – until this meal was gone, his belly distended with satisfaction.  Several bites later, he looked up from the remains of the critter and licked his lips – full moon gleaming in his skull.  "Been a while," he drawled, tail at half-mast.  "Wondered if ya—"

But his thought was halted, dead in its tracks, as a stranger approached.  Tail flagged immediately, matching his thick ruff as it stood upon his neck.  It was a single wolf, he knew, but that did not guarantee demeanor or submission.  Immediately placing himself between the foreign voice and his badger woman (her massive size be damned), he arched his neck.  "We're 'ere, Spirit," he rumbled, ears laid against his head as the dragon slithered force.  Was she benevolent or malicious in intention?  Only an introduction would tell.

"Come out, come out, whomever y' are~"

Going to be skipping @Urotho to keep the thread moving. She's welcome to rejoin later.

Sparrow remained firm in her stance, doing everything she could to muster up enough bravery to take the few steps remaining that would bring her fellow wolves into view. She had followed their scents without hesitation, but now that she had called out and made herself known, there was no going back. There's two of em, she realized as the gruff voice of a male wolf responded to her call. It was too late now, and regardless of if these wolves were friend or foe, she was going to be outnumbered. Taking a deep breath, the girl did her best to still her frantically beating heart before taking the final steps.

Neither her nose or her ears has betrayed her - there were two of them. A brown male with a creme underbelly and his companion, a rather large russet colored female. In many ways, Sparrow herself could only, at best, be described as average. Taking in the rather formidable appearing duo, the girl could only think about what a potentially dangerous situation she had gotten herself into this time. She looked briefly to the face of the male, only to realize that he was staring her down with only one eye. Clearly no stranger to a fight. "I didn't mean to intrude," she told them, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. Her tail was tucked slightly beneath her belly and her ears were flat against her skull in a submissive pose. "I'm Sparrow. I was just passing through these woods - didn't realize that anybody lived here." Now that she was closer, she could clearly pick out the scents of blood from a fresh kill mixing with the scent of fresh earth. "Do you live here?" The realization that she could have accidentally stumbled upon a newly made birthing den was enough to set her heart beating wildly once more. How many times would she make this mistake before she learned her lesson?

(This post was last modified: Apr 21, 2015, 02:09 PM by Sparrow. Edit Reason: Fixed some coding issues )

Urotho said nothing, which came as a slight surprise. An independent wolf was rarely interested in the protection of a smaller, older wolf – but the man was not about to argue it when there was a stranger afoot. Slowly, a girl appeared from her hiding spot, steps ginger and introduction even more timid. If she was nervous, she likely didn't mean any harm – or if she did, she was put off by the numbers not in her favor. Assured in his situation, he allowed the stranger to approach. As she tucked her tail, he stood tall, head elevated and shoulders square as he picked up his tail. Kjors asserted himself as someone not to be trifled with – he was weary from his journey, and an ambitious upstart was not what he wanted to do with his day.

"Ah live here," he rumbled, gaze fixed on the sheepish youth. It was fairly obvious he was not a pack wolf – the dragon's scent was the only one established (though only just recently, he assumed this was enough to prevent any argument). "An' me friend was seekin' me out." Friends. Is that what they were? How much had things changed in the past weeks, months, since they were separated?

Taking a step towards Sparrow, he allowed his banner to drop just a fraction, studying the youth with his single eye. She did not smell like pack either – and they way she submitted did not lend itself to a position of power, either. "What're y' doin' out here, kid? Ain't exactly a friendly place fer a wee lass like yerself. Y' lost?"

Sparrow stood quietly, her amber eyes following every movement that the other two made in case she needed to make a quick escape if they decided to be hostile instead of friendly. The female did not speak, but the male's posture spoke volumes. Even if they were all lone wolves, his assertive posture suggested a wolf who was used to being dominant over others. For all intents and purposes, he was the leader among them and Sparrow, as gauche as she was, wasn't stupid enough to challenge him. He affirmed her suspicions that he did live here, which was more than enough for the yearling's curiosity. She wasn't entirely sure where she was-the forest was so big-but she made a mental note that in the future, this particular place was already settled.

Instinctively, the girl tensed up as he approached her, only relaxing as she noticed that he too had relaxed some. Her ears rang with the sound of his accent, not unkind but definitely different. It was a valid question too, what was she doing out here? "Honestly, I'm just wandering. Don't really have a place in mind to go, so I don't know that I'm lost," she told him, with a hint of a smile in her voice. She shrugged her shoulders, pointedly looking around at the woods surrounding them. "It isn't so scary here, but you're right. I don't think this is the place for me." She wasn't sure where she would go after this, but without a direction in mind, wherever Sparrow went was good enough for her. "What's your name?" she asked him, looking back from the trees to meet his single-eyed gaze. Perhaps he would be able to tell her where she was most likely to find a home that would take her in.

"Not all who wander 're lost," he agreed, a smile slithering from his lips to his golden eye. Behind him, Urotho remained silent. The male had to fight the urge to glance back over his shoulder and confirm she was still standing there. Perhaps it was only a specter, come to haunt him with memories of the one creature he still missed. In that respect, perhaps he owed Sparrow more than vague indifference, sparing him from the curse of his traitorous mind playing with him. Slowly, his posture became a much more neutral one, no longer feeling endangered as he watched the yearling.

It was almost a shame she didn't take to his woods, but he wouldn't complain. After all, there was only so much food to go around, and small as he might be, the timber wolf wasn't horribly keen on the notion of sharing whatever prizes he might find. "M'name is Kjors. Kjors Sørenson," he murmured, tail swishing behind him aimlessly. For once, he did not care to tack on his self-assigned title, and simply left it with the nomenclature granted to him at the time of his birth. Tipping his head, he shared the female's gaze, observing the trees that loomed over him before he returned her shrug.

"If y'ain't lost an' ain't lookin' t' stay, where y' tryin' t' get?" he asked, quirking the brow above his only eye. "They're a few packs, here an' there. Take yer pick. Not sure it's worth it, though."

There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity