Larkcall Lowlands dying historic

@Isuni

The blood was running thick down his forearm, his pale fur tainted pink. Shiny and fresh, the jagged tear on his shoulder oozed red with every step, the movement encouraging blood flow. Onward he pressed, as though his paw was not beginning to go faintly numb, as though the relentless pounding belonged to someone else. The long scratch on his browbone bled slower, but the line of red slowly made its way to his nose and mouth, and he spat it out angrily, leaving a dark splatter on the short, dense grass that crumpled under his feet. It was just one of many, joining those which were pressed into the ground with every step, his paw slick with it.

The sun was setting, and as the horizon to the west began to run bright and bloody, Craw was forced to move faster, his body grasping at every noisy lungful he drew, and even as the creatures of day began to quiet and settle in, he knew that night beasts were waking up, were watching, were waiting. Another hill was crested, the bloody trail made longer, longer, a beacon leading directly to him, and onward he was forced to go.

It was only when he tripped on a grassy knot did he realise that all feeling had drained out of his paw. The urgency which had urged him on was replaced by a new urgency, for he was fleeing death and here it was, trying to claim him, limb by limb. The rattle in his throat grew louder, grew aggressive, as he turned towards one of the small watering holes that the dying light still glittered over. The water was as still as the air, quiet and serene, and he regarded its surface for a moment upon reaching it. His forearm and shoulder pulsed terribly, but were grateful to stop. Licking at his chops, Craw exhaled hard, noisy, his throat raw and rough-edged, expelling the dead energy so that when he took a fresh breath it filled and cooled him.

Slowly he waded into the pool, the water drawing away any wet blood, chilling him. When it reached his wound, he hissed, but let it wash over him. The cleanse was crude, and was not nearly enough, but it was better than the alternative. Only minutes after submerging his torn flesh, the bulky wolf pulled himself out of the water, and shook himself even though it aggravated the wound. He had two choices; continue to walk through the night, to hope he could run fast enough, or to wait, and let sensation return to his leg and paw, let his blood have a chance to clot. Waiting guaranteed more broken flesh, though.

Waiting guaranteed a vicious retribution. Breathing quick and deep as adrenaline pre-emptively pumped through his veins, Craw set his yellow eyes to the north as the light faded, and waited for his night beast to find him.

(This post was last modified: Sep 13, 2015, 08:00 AM by Craw.)

It was heavy breathing that roused Isuni from her slumber – such peaceful dreams the woman was having, of the warm sun and peaceful grasslands. It was safe, she was happy, and the real world came as a rude awakening. There was a chill in the air nipping at her nose and a foreign scent in the air. It took a moment to blink the sleepiness from her eyes, and all at once the female sprung to life, gathering her legs beneath her and growing to her full, massive stance. Ears swiveling about like little radar dishes, she lifted her nose to the air and scented again – between sharp ears and a wet snout, the woman was quickly able to pinpoint the stranger, locating him with swift paws across the ground.

The loner was even larger than her, his stark white pelt a bright contrast to lowlands in the last spell of summer. Even so she was not fearful – it was labored breaths that awoke her, after all, and even from her should could detect the faint, coppery smell of blood. He was injured – he would be no threat to her. Capable cared little for violence and fighting, even if pressed, she’d sooner run – the redhead had no doubt she’d be able to outrun the brute at his rate.

Even still, such a caring nature cried out at seeing an injured creature, and she approached with no great hesitation. “Hello!” she called out, halting a few wolf’s lengths away. “Are you need of assistance?”

A wild dissertation appears!

While he was largely at peace with what was to come, Craw's chest was tight with tension, his eyes and ears constantly scanning for whatever they could detect. There was no excuse for not paying attention; that kind of sloppiness was unacceptable. However, he was so focused on a threat from the north that the greeting called out from somewhere behind him caused a sudden, violent but brief reaction in the beast, who twisted about with a snarl before his mind caught up to the knee-jerk reaction. Seeing a large woman approach through the darkness, he instantly calmed, if only because she was not the danger that he had been obsessing over. She would not have called out so amiably if she was a risk.

Indeed, she seemed to want to be the opposite.

Slipping back into a sitting position, Craw glanced back to the north and, seeing no movement yet, allowed himself a few moments to appraise the woman. Why she wanted to help, he could not guess, for she did not know him and was not under duress. The strangeness of her offered altruism kept a few hairs raised on the back of his neck, his tension and anticipation heightening his distrust.

"It's not safe," was the first thing he said, unable to quickly decide on an answer to her question. There was only one thing which would truly help, but until his beast finally appeared, it could not be finished. But that gave him a thought. The beast, as battered as himself, would be less likely to pursue both Craw and a healthy adult wolf. Her mere presence could conclude his prolonged conflict. He just had to keep her here long enough for either his foe to make a mad attempt, or for it to give up. Since they would never be certain of the latter, Craw rather hoped for the former. "What are you doing here?"

Isuni startled briefly as she was greeted with a flash of ivory, the female taking a step back as she huffed. The redhead was a not a small woman by any means, and even unfriendly wolves rarely tried to start a scuffle with her. Charcoal hackles raised by centimeters, ears flipped out sideways as the woman turned her head, making it clear she was not interested in fighting with the other wolf. Ever unwilling to submit, she supposed she would engage if forced – after all, the other loner was clearly at a disadvantage, and he’d have to be truly stupid to start a donnybrook with her.

Fortunately, it seemed the pale wraith thought the better of his initial aggression and assumed a much less hostile position. Relaxing her ears forward, Capable allowed herself another few steps towards the man, black nose wiggling in the air as she tried to detect any trace of illness or infection. Altruism was one thing, but only exhibited to an extent. On her own and winter fast approaching, the curious female had little interest in become ill herself.

Once he spoke, she tipped her head to one side. “Of course it’s not safe,” she replied, blinking plainly. It was never truly secure as a lone wolf – that was simply a risk she’d been willing to assume as the cost of her freedom. Perhaps her new acquaintance here was regretting his recent decisions. “I’m – well, I’m not sure, honestly. Looking for a place in the world.” Isuni blinked. “Oh, did you mean short game? I’d been asleep – suppose I’ll be looking to fill my stomach soon. You can call me Capable. Who are you?”

She wanted to ask the same question – but the woman wasn’t entirely certain she actually wanted to know why the large male looked as poorly as he did.

A wild dissertation appears!

She reflected his brief moment of tension, but it faded from her body just as quickly as it had his. @Isuni was only a threat because she was unknown, but as worn and tired as he was, all Craw had to do was make sure she didn't subvert her amiable persona. It was distinctly within his interests to keep her as a temporary ally, and as such he made an effort to smooth out all hostility from his body language. The goal of survival dictated that he not make unnecessary enemies, least of all when he was most ill-suited to cope with them. He was already at capacity when it came to hostile targets, his body too broken to add another. He did not have the strength for it.

She appeared to misunderstand his warning, but it didn't matter. If she chose to be oblivious to the fact that he was merely on a break from dancing with a very dangerous, desperate creature, it was her own problem. Perhaps it would be easier if she did not know. Indeed she was more interested in running her mouth, but the more she talked the longer she stayed, and as such the longer his wounds would have to heal and the more sensation would return to his feet. It didn't matter what had brought her here if she could make herself useful.

"Come here, keep me company," he rumbled, gently, gesturing to the ground next to him. The brusque manner had left his voice, replaced with a good imitation of friendliness. One ear always stayed fixed to the north, whatever good that would do; every now and then he would glance in that same direction, but saw no movement. If the beast chose to strike, they would likely only know at the last moment. Turning his gaze on the large woman, he curled his lips in a thin smile, his breathing ragged and rough through long-term exhaustion. "I'm just a man down on his luck. Capable, you said? Did your mother call you that?"

Come here, he said, and for a moment, Capable hesitated. It sounded so like something her father would say when he wanted her to sit nearby and report how his mate and her siblings were fairing. Such an unhappy memory, it took conscious thought not to express the recoil visually. This man was not her father – in fact, though similar in size, the likeness ended there. With fair white fur and raccoon rings about his eyes, this man looked as far as he could from the red-blond tones of the Rahal patriarch. What’s more, is that she highly doubted this man had any interest in what she’d been doing, or just how successful she’d been at her tasks.

Swallowing the bitter recollection out of mind, she turned and padded over to the older wolf, placing her rump on the ground within a length of the male. (He wasn’t even old enough to be her father. Really, she was being foolish, worrying like that. All she did was give her sire the power over her when she allowed the past to dictate how she reacted to present situations.)

“A man down on his luck, huh? Is that what I’m supposed to call you? Seems a mouthful, to me,” the redhead replied easily, wishing to keep the conversation light. She’d given him a name, if she really must, though he’d be labeled with something no more creative than Capable. “Not the name my mother gave me,” she hummed, sienna eyes meeting the loner’s steady gaze. “I gave it to myself, once I left my birth pack. I wanted to be a new wolf, so that’s what I became,” she explained simply, not wishing to go into detail over her desire to understand how everything worked, how such a fanatical wish got her ousted, and how often she wished she was actually the woman she dreamed of being.

“I haven’t been in this forest long at all. It’s dangerous, you said?”

A wild dissertation appears!

A young deer has been separated from the rest of its herd. Hunt Opportunity

She visibly hesitated, but did comply with his request. He cared not for the reason behind her reluctance, for he was only interested if she would be pliable and obedient. Company which was hard and rebellious was far from what he needed right now; he felt he would rather be alone than have to juggle such a character. Fortunately, she did come to sit beside him, or close enough anyway; rolling his shoulders, he glanced at the gap between them, and wondered how best to close it. Perhaps it would not prove necessary.

Fortunately, she was easily distracted by his question, unable to resist the allure of talking about herself like all weak-minded creatures. He chuckled at her jest, though made no attempt to offer an alternative name. It was far from important right then, and when he discovered that her name was not her birth one it made him less inclined to share. She would have to ask outright. "That is a bold choice," he said, regarding her name, his tone lighthearted - a gentle challenge as to whether she felt that she had successfully embodied it. It was like a wolf calling himself 'Strong' or 'Wise' - something you had to prove, not just declare. But he kept all the judgement to himself, not wanting to dissuade her from lingering in his presence. It suited him to keep her around for as long as possible, after all, and insulting company was a good way to lose it.

Her final question drew a snort from him, as he glanced once more to the darkness in the north, and then back at her face, so near. "I don't usually bleed spontaneously," he said simply, the open gash on his shoulder and other fresh wounds still leaking quite happily. It was doing an immense amount of good not moving, though, and the ache in his every muscle had subsided to merely a notch below agony. Overall, it was an improvement.

“Yes. A bold choice, for a bold wolf. It is to remind myself of what I can be. What I should be. My birth name, that is nothing. Means nothing.”

I am not nothing, Isuni thought viciously, her tail twitching once as she shoved the thought off, like water like a duck’s back. She could sense the judgment there, even if the loner did not make any attempt to criticize – a ‘bold choice’ was not a complement. The woman was social, friendly, and she was brave, but the lone wolf was not stupid, and she could read a veiled barb when one was thrown at her. Sniffing softly, she chose not to sink any lower – she liked the name Capable, and did not need to defend it any further than she already had.

“Should I call you Dig, then? Or would you prefer Saucy? I think I like Saucy,” she decided after a moment, not about to root for a name. If he was truly so secretive and refused to divulgate his calling, then let him have his special name – the chance that she’d ever need to refer to it was slim, at best. That he might be so important that she must beg was simply inconceivable. He would go by Saucy, or he would offer the name he preferred. “Though perhaps I should just go with Sharp.” A double-edged name, she thought with private glee. “I was wondering what had done that to you, as it were, but I suppose my question might not have been direct enough. Another wolf? Or something worse?”

A wild dissertation appears!

The attempt at tactful diplomacy hadn't worked, and Craw felt his impatience and frustration rise as she leapt into defending herself, as though he had spoken aloud all he had thought. She was perceptive, he acknowledged, but also insecure and paranoid. Why did she care so much what some half-dead loner thought of the name she had given herself? This Capable was childish and weak, clearly clinging to whatever fabricated strength she could build for herself.

But he didn't say any of that.

"It wasn't my intention to offend you," he grunted, looking at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the north, scanning it for movement which wasn't there. He had so many more important things to worry about than her precious pride, and yet it was in his interest to keep Capable here, so he would make sure to tread more softly - but just how oblivious did that make her? She had approached him, in his state, only to lose her temper. His voice was even, calm, marred only by the constant rattle and the slowly fading exhaustion which lined his every fibre. "It has been a very long night, I am in a great deal of pain, and there is a cougar out there waiting for me to die.

"I intend to disappoint her," he continued, with a brief flash of teeth and a twist of his lips. Twisting his gaze back to the red woman, he hesitated a moment. "You can call me what you like, but my given name is Craw. My family name is similarly irrelevant." She had abandoned her entire name, and he did not judge that. But it was only his father's name that Craw intended to shed. His voice lowered, his tiredness and hurt creeping into his tone, the man's ability to separate his bodily harm from his composure waning. "Might you stay with me, until dawn? I will not hold you here, but I fear my chances of surviving the night alone are slim."