Windsong Fjord [M] Teeth bared bright in the dying sun

ooc: @Craw dated 9/12/15, just before sunset. Clear skies, around 57°F, brisk winds. This is just southeast of the fjord.

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Coming back over his own scent trail made the journey back to the fjord easier than his southward wanderings had been. This time Kenelm had travelled through lands he was already somewhat familiar with, which prevented him from accidentally walking off of embankments he hadn't seen in time before. It also gave him the opportunity to test out shorter pathways, which helped drastically cut down his travel time. It took him only a few days to reach the fjord - perhaps a week at the most - and when he did he was not nearly as tired as he had been the last time he had come to this place. The place still looked and sounded exactly as he remembered it, too. Though he had not reached the fjord proper, he could still hear the sweet white noise of glacial water rushing by beneath the hills ahead, and the trees thickened as he drew closer to the edge of one of the fjord's paths. He raised his muzzle, eager to smell the clean, crisp air of this place now that he wasn't so frantic and hopeless-- Elk. He smelled elk not far from here - elk and blood and very, very stale coyote. There was a kill nearby, free food, and Kenelm's stomach snarled viciously at the prospect of a meal that could provide him more energy than he would expend in claiming it. His wanderlust forgotten, the greyish man trotted onwards towards the scent, veering a little eastward in his pursuit. He found the carcass at the base of the fjord's hills, splayed across the ground and half-eaten by some wasteful coyote that had taken down more than it could stomach in one sitting. Too bad; now its leftovers were Kenelm's meal. He checked quickly about to make sure that neither the coyote nor any other competing predators might be nearby, then closed with the elk and dug in, ripping a chunk of meat from the carcass and snarfing it down happily.

(This post was last modified: Sep 12, 2015, 10:13 AM by Kenelm.)

With ash on the wind, I move forward...

Let's Cause Some Chaos

Hunger was a terrible beast. It clawed at your belly, sapped your strength and, perhaps worst of all, persisted in the mind, hoarding attention and will power. It grew to be all-consuming, a need which grew into obsession and then into the only thing which mattered. If it wasn't satisfied, it would devour its host instead. Craw had felt it before, though for things less base than meat - he had hungered after many a thing the past year, and hungered still. This animalistic drive was distracting him from what was really important. If he let himself be made into this low creature, urged on only by that which sustained flesh, sustained the most simple of lives. He was more than that. He was more than this.

Telling himself that didn't stop the biting in his stomach.

So much rage was bottled up in the darkest reaches of his being that, in the hardest times, he sustained himself on it, lit a fire underneath it and kept himself warm. It was a crude substitute, one that didn't fool his body but did fool his mind. Willpower would carry him on, because Craw wouldn't let himself die. Death sounded too much like surrender.

There was no room for pride for those who lived on the fumes of stubbornness. He had eaten things no self-respecting predator should have to, just to fill that void. The few times he came upon an abandoned corpse, he had gorged, and while the meat remained in his system, he was some measure of himself again. His priorities were re-aligned, although he knew with indignant anger that he was still neutered in his ability to resolve them, for the hunger would return and it would start again.

But every day that he refused to surrender was another day closer to his furious absolution. He could taste it.

The smell burrowed through his nostril and straight into his brain, running through his thirsty blood until it reached his furthest extremities, filling him. This would be another day closer. Instantly he turned towards it, limbs creaking as they resented the expended energy, but his flame was running low and needed replenishing. He could smell coyote, but that was barely a blip on his radar, for no scrawny vermin would keep him away.

He barely registered the canyon, the water running at its base, the landscape a distraction. When the elk's remains lay splayed out at the base of the hill before him, he saw that the vermin feasting upon it was not coyote but a much closer relative, and the engine in his chest revved up, the rumbling of pistons running straight up through his throat and to the wind. His tail curled immediately over his back, his muscles tense and ready, his ears back and fur bristling and teeth bared, the hunger for survival greater than any mortal urge. Slowly he approached, waiting to be noticed, waiting to find out if this would end the easy way... or the hard way.

Shallow water has trapped several fish in a small pond. Hunt Opportunity

With his snout buried in more meat than he had seen in several weeks, Kenelm neither saw nor smelled the interloper's arrival - but he heard it when the other man let out a snarl. Kenelm's head snapped up and around towards the source of the sound; his vision was not so weak that he could not mark the clear signs of aggression the other male displayed. With his muzzle still streaked with the elk's now congealed blood, it was hard for Kenelm to identify this stranger's scent at the moment. @Belladonna's belief that there may be a pack near this area stayed Kenelm's immediate urge to fight; if this was one of Calanthe's pack mates, or even simply a wolf who knew where she might be, he didn't dare ruin the potential lead by fighting over this carcass - but neither was he about to slink away from it before he had eaten his fill. It seemed now was the time to put diplomacy to the test once again. “I will happily share with you, if you'll calm down and act civil,” he informed the other man, his voice low but seething. His own body lifted, his head rising a little more proudly than was his wont, his tail flagging straight behind him and rising as slowly as his hackles were. “But I will not slink away from this feast without a fight until I've eaten enough to be satisfied. I do not want to fight with you,” he insisted sternly, “but I will if you force my hand.”

With ash on the wind, I move forward...

Let's Cause Some Chaos

Desperation was no excuse for stupidity. As he drew closer, Craw tested the air, rolling the scent around in his head and digesting it. There were hints of other wolves there, but nothing to indicate that he belonged to a pack. All the hints were there, the fact that the smaller creamy wolf was here alone, had obviously not taken down the elk himself, and had not called for allies to share in his good fortune. The opportunity to feed the growling monster in his belly was almost too much to bear, and certainly would have clouded Craw's judgement to some degree had he determined that the vermin was indeed a packwolf - because he was alone right now, and those odds were good enough.

He could see that the man was in better health than himself, perhaps as hungry but without any sign of wound or altercation, which was totally unlike Craw and his medley of scabs, deep and old and fresh alike, which worked hard to keep all his insides in. Survival prescribed a particular set of rules, and getting into unnecessary fights was one of them. Unfortunately, Craw had not yet sunk to an entirely feral level, and his own rules were slightly different.

The vermin didn't immediately challenge his presence, turning to face Craw, manner calm but then the spark of conflict appeared, and it threatened to spread. Craw's chest wheezed as he breathed, the sound married to the low growl in his throat which never died away.

"Act civil?" he repeated, thick with incredulity, as he closed the distance between them to two body lengths, and slowly shifted his direction to circle around the scene. Bright eyes never left his rival, this threat to his immediate survival, which stood between him and what he needed. Didn't he know that Craw was beyond civility? Didn't he know that the very concept was a lie? There was only thrive or die.

Once, twice he snapped his jaws together, lather coating his lips and flying free as his body anticipated gorging itself and worked itself up. But the posturing was short-lived - like a spring he lurched forward, teeth flashing, running on righteous fumes (but fumes nonetheless), intending to barrel straight into the vermin.

ooc: Received permission from Siki to pp Craw's miss.

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This man was clearly well beyond the point of reason - certainly beyond the ability to listen to any blarney Kenelm could attempt to placate him with. The man became only more violent at Kenelm's words, and as he closed the distance between them Kenelm could see the wounds that already marked the skinnier wolf's hide. This one was desperate on top of being hungry, a vicious combination. Kenelm didn't have time to pity the man before the skinny beast started savagely snapping his teeth. Kenelm anticipated his next move before he made it, and leapt aside as the other wolf came barrelling forward, likely trying to ram Kenelm off his feet. Instead the pale man went tumbling harmlessly by, while Kenelm tore around and slammed towards his opponent, teeth snapping closed around the man's scruff. Kenelm used his weight and momentum to drag the other wolf down towards the ground, his aim to wind the man rather than to seriously harm him. But he overestimated the strength of his bite and the weight he put behind his lunge; as they fell, he felt the man's hide gave way under his teeth and tasted blood. It was too late now to worry about that, so Kenelm didn't let go until he had successfully thrown his opponent to the ground. Satisfied that he had made himself rather clear, Kenelm leapt back from the intruder, trying to put some distance between them again in case this scrawny bag of bones had failed to learn his lesson. The gash he left looked rather severe, and blood had splattered the ground around them, but the man would survive, provided he was smart enough to stop while he was ahead.

With ash on the wind, I move forward...

Let's Cause Some Chaos

His mind had shifted into an automatic gear, his body a machine running through familiar processes. But the parts weren't oiled, many were worn and needed repair, and the purring engine was sputtering and failing. He was barely a quarter of the beast he used to be, strength sapped by a constant need to fulfill the simplest of life's requirements, muscles and bulk eaten away by hunger. In his mind he was still powerful, but reality didn't match up.

A misjudged lunge and brief entanglement later, there was a fresh spring of blood on his nape, but it just blurred into the many. Pain was a trivial concept at this point. Clouded by fury that his body could not do what he wanted, Craw did not read the other's intention to disengage, to put distance between them - the moment Craw snapped around to face the vermin again, he simply lunged once more, for seeing red left little else to be registered.

The pistons were misfiring, the exhaust choking, the exposed metal rusting. Once more the other avoided the intent of his charge, though Craw closed the gap between them and snapped at the air in front of his rival's face, still a raging beast, still unable to acknowledge that this was a losing battle. Perhaps a display of sheer, desperate madness would prove enough.

Kenelm didn't expect the man to fight back so suddenly, to scramble back onto his feet and fling himself forward with so much ferocity after having received such a massive wound. Instinct flared as the grey man again swung towards him; this time it was Kenelm's speed as well as the man's weakened, hunger-maddened state that allowed Kenelm to dodge away in time, although this time the teeth slammed shut closer to Kenelm's throat. This time the man's breath blasted hot against Kenelm's fur as the Ashfoot rose up on his hind legs to get out of the way. It could have been a disastrously complacent thing to do, were the larger man enough in his right mind to take advantage of the mile-wide opening Kenelm gave him. Instead the other man was slow to move out of the way, and his momentum had carried the skinnier man under Kenelm's forepaws. Kenelm was quick to use that to his advantage, bringing his full weight down hard on top of his opponent and again tearing at the man's already tattered back. More of the other man's blood sprayed across Kenelm's chest and the ground below them as Kenelm's teeth shredded half-healed flesh; the stink of wolf blood made his nose wrinkle in disgust, fuelling his rage and again adding more strength than he intended to his attack. His opponent was more scarlet now than silver along his back when Kenelm finally shoved away from him again, this time stumbling a bit as he backed towards the elk carcass they battled for. “Enough!” he snarled. “Stop before you kill yourself!”

With ash on the wind, I move forward...

Let's Cause Some Chaos

Minimal formatting because am on ipad, will edit next time I'm on a computer

Despite his rival's proclaimed preferences for pacifism (preferences which Craw was blatantly blowing through), the man was certainly quite violent. Either his actions did not line up with his ideology, his teeth had minds of their own or the man simply was poorly trained and did not truly know how to fight. That was an ironic accusation coming from the wolf decidedly on the losing side, but Craw's failures could be blamed squarely on his weakness and prolonged exposure to hunger and desperation. His mind cut corners and forgot its methods in such circumstances. When in full control of himself, Craw could draw blood or not as the situation required - and it seemed that his rival had deemed it necessary now.

Some part of the starving wolf acknowledged that he was performing poorly, and that he was unlikely to conclude this encounter in a victorious fashion. Even as he hauled himself back up, twisting to face his rival, his face a furious mess of saliva and teeth and wide eyes, it was the way that his opponent tried to withdraw again, calling for the conflict to end, and had the audacity to appeal to Craw's self-preservation. Why did he think that the fight had broken out in the first place? If Craw's wellbeing was so important to him, then he should have backed off entirely. Laughing through his growing delirium, the hunger and pain and weariness and frustration all rolling into one, Craw continued to close the distance between them, each step a threat. "Soft," he hissed, as though the idea of being shown mercy was more sickening than losing. "Were you never taught to finish what's been started?"

And with that he lunged again, but every part of him was slowing down, even the high of adrenaline starting to wane. His rival dodged the bite, almost as expected, but Craw would not fold yet. He almost needed this, needed to be reminded why he needed to stay alive. This wolf would not kill him over an elk carcass. Craw allowed himself to push the encounter as far as he was able.

ooc: Kenelm finally whiffs! Get him, Craw!

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Kenelm's heart sank even as he braced himself for another attack from his starvation-maddened opponent. To be laughing in the midst of such a ferocious battle... there was no way at all that he could hope to talk this man down peacefully, let alone mollify him. Kenelm easily leapt away from the man's third attack; as wounded as this man was, it have almost have been harder to outrun a deer with a broken leg than it was to continue avoiding the silver wolf. A sullen anger swelled in Kenelm's chest as he rounded on his opponent a third time. Very well, if he wanted this to end with blood rather than peace, he would give him that, and let no man judge Kenelm for what came of this senseless battle. He swept forward again, aiming to tear one of the man's legs out from under him - and was surprised when his opponent leapt cleanly out of the way in a sudden burst of speed. Thrown off balance by the unexpected evasion, Kenelm stumbled and skidded on his forelegs, scrambling to regain his footing before the other wolf could turn and attack. The ground was slick with blood - all of it his opponent's, so far - and it made his footing treacherous. Kenelm was spending far too much time trying to keep from falling to his side and exposing his belly to this madman who seemed more than ready to kill over a carcass they could both have shared and peaceably taken their fill from.

With ash on the wind, I move forward...

Let's Cause Some Chaos