Hearthwood River catch as catch can.

It stunk.

Ugh.

Little Crow’s skin was crawling. She wanted nothing more than to shake her coat or throw her slim shoulders down on the ground, rubbing her body along the grass and ground. God, whoever this wolf was, they really stunk. And they shit. A lot. Like everyone did, duh, but there was enough to roll in for her and for Big Buzzard, and that guy was no small wolf. (But at least she didn’t have a big ol’ distinguishing mark on his face. Heh. Poor bastard. That was a major suck.)

“Remember what I taught ya,” she hissed, tail lashing before she set off in a serpentine motion, nose pressed to the ground as she wove through the fog. There was no set pattern to her movements, simply dodging trees and circling back, making sure it was not obvious the direction she started in – or the direction she was going. The key was to find a cache close to the border, and do their thing. There was no high grass this time, though the trees and the fog would help some. The roar of the river helped them as much as it hurt – hid their movements, and might hide anyone nearby, too.

Fast. Gotta go fast.

Backdated for 8/23. Pre-dawn, foggy.

He almost started to regret this idea of rolling in shit. It stunk like....well, shit. But before he could throw a hissy fit or back out like a coward - which he was not despite what anyone said about him - Little Crow cued their leaving. He sneaked around back and forth following after the Crow's path. Staying close to her in case shit went south this time. He had joined in order to be her muscle. He was supposed to back her up in case that whole Fallen Tree thing went wrong but he had to back her up here too.

Big Buzzard was quick to sniff around trying to pick out the odor of shit from food. Someone had to have something hidden out here, someone real secretive. Probably someone like the fool who had left a cache on the borders of that dumb Rye pack. He hated this damn pack anyway and that fat-ass wolf that thought he was so good. Fuck him. This was like some sweet revenge or something like that. Big Buzzard had never been very poetic. He just lashed out at whoever deserved it.

He snaked between the trees as bright green eyes darted about. Something had to give and it had to give real fast otherwise they might be someone's meal. Or someone's den rug at least.

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

Little Crow had no idea her partner in crime had some beef with the pack they’d been scouting out. If she had, she might have thought twice about raiding with the River wolves – emotions running high made things kinda weird, and sometimes it made wolves kinda dumb. If not Big Buzzard, than whomever he had a beef with.

But she didn’t know. And ignorance was bliss – or maybe ignorance was just ignorance, and Namir was about to step into a pile of shit far bigger than whatever she’d just rolled in.

But so far, so good. The young desert wolf chanced a glance over her shoulder, just a quick one – but her travelling companion seemed to be doing exactly as she instructed him last time. He, too, was moving without any particular pattern. He was sniffing, too. It was hard, yeah, trying to smell over the pervasive waft of the shit clinging to their guard hairs, but definitely not as difficult (or as blinding) as it would have been if they’d been hit by an angry skunk.

Still. Hadn’t found anything just yet. Her tail lashed and she grit her teeth, until finally, something faint caught her attention, and Little Crow veered suddenly, hoping Saros would follow.

He was always close behind, like a real large shadow to the smaller thief. When she veered he caught sight of it and quickly followed after her. He hated these trees and did his best to avoid them so he wouldn't mess things up with something stupid.

The pep in his step was highly noticeable. He conserved his energy when they weren't stealing so that at times like now he could give it his all. Big Buzzard's hefty rear had to keep up with the smaller form of Little Crow. She was damn speedy with them long legs and lithe form. He wasn't exactly jealous because he liked his strong form, but sometimes he certainly wished he could haul ass like she did. Then maybe he wouldn't have to worry as much when they were doing their thing. Their thing. Ugh, he was getting clingy but he'd take care of that later.

When they closed in on the cache he set to work like he had last time. Paws flying under him, digging up the dirt in order to get what they had come for. He figured it'd be stale like last time but anything was better than nothing. Even if it meant rolling in shit or getting caked in mud. He and Namir were just trying to survive, not thrive.

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

Ayti has a hurt shoulder but this is his job so... Guardian Dem 1/3

It was supposed to be a quiet day back on border patrols. His shoulder still hurt like hell, but Ayti was one of the strongest wolves that they had to offer, and damn if he was going to just leave his pack unprotected. Thoughts of the cougar still raced in his mind, and he couldn't help but be worried. Especially because Laike and Lachesis were on their trip to Wild Rye Fields -the only two men were just he and Lorcan, for the time being. Or, at least, that was as far as Ayti knew. Not that Inna, Lilya, and Anastasia couldn't protect themselves - they just had kids to watch out for.

The fog was unpleasant and unrelenting, but Ayti was pretty used to weaving through the trees quietly nowadays. It wasn't too long into his patrol that he caught the scent of something rank and strong, and he wrinkled his nose as he tried to figure out just what it was that could smell so bad. Because, honestly, it smelled just like shit.

Fur bristled along Aytigin's spine as he followed the scent, doing his best to keep his pawsteps silent. If it was some type of predator, like a mountain lion or bear, then maybe he'd be able to scare it away. The mocha-colored man was a giant, after all, so he wasn't all that intimidated by the sheer magnitude of other creatures. Eyes widened when he caught sight of the source of the scent - two younger wolves with actual shit covering their fur, digging out of a cache.

He leapt out of the bushes behind them, snarling viciously, and took a stiff step forward. "What the fuck do you think you two are doing?"

Their thing.

It wasn’t that bad, Big Buzzy, don’t feel too bad. Little Crow even kinda liked it. Kinda, anyways.

But she wasn’t thinking about that, or about him, that hard, not when she was finally on the trail of something that smelled like real food. It wasn’t as old as their last score, either, so that was kinda exciting. Couldn’t tell what it was when it was still underground, but the scent itself got strong and stronger still until the part of wolves was practically on top of the unguarded cache. A little further in than when the pair had raided Wild Rye Fields, a little further than Little Crow wanted to venture in, but what was life without a little risk, anyways?

She glanced over her shoulder again, assuring that her companion was still with her, and the younger yearling began to dig furiously. This was really where Big Buzzard’s size came into play – he could haul the earth around with a few swipes of his big feet, and—

Voice. Crap.

Namir narrowed her eyes and dug faster. If the guy was just gonna stand there and bark, well shit, she’d sure as hell let him. She could outrun that fatty any day.

(Shit, it was good Saros covered his face.)

There is a family of deer nearby. Hunt Opportunity

Yeah. Seriously.

Fuck this guy.

It was almost no surprise that this man came shoving his nose into something else. Again. That was his specialty, wasn't it? Big Buzzard knew that annoying voice but if he was just gonna bark all day like a little doggie and wasn't gonna bite than that was fine with the large yearling. Between the work of two wolves, it only took moments to uncover the cache. Soon enough there was what they had been looking for. An old squirrel and half eaten hare. Big Buzzard took it upon himself to grab the hare and without a second glance, he did exactly what he knew was coming next.

He hauled his ass out of there.

The male didn't worry about Little Crow because she was real fast and if anyone was gonna get caught it was gonna be him. And hell, Big Buzzard had no qualms about throwing his weight around if the fat man could catch up with the thieving duo. He wouldn't look back, though. That was part of their plan, right? No looking back and just running forward until they were home free. He would know if something went wrong because there would likely be sound or feeling.

Saros is currently going under the alias Big Buzzard or Buzzard - thanks to a name given by Namir

Okay okay okay. Her mind felt like it was shaking, fucking shaking – no one ever caught her in the actual act before. In the run, yeah, or blamed her afterwards because she was still small and didn’t know how it all worked the first few times, but never like this. Never before she had her prize. And never with another thief in the training but…shit, fucking god, Big Buzzard was such a good, good wolf and he didn’t even know. He didn’t, he didn’t look up, didn’t stop digging, and as soon as pelt and meat because visible under layers of dark dirt, he dove in and took the bigger hunk.

Which was greedy. But also fine, because he had a bigger face, and Little Crow wasn’t about to argue just now. It was time to jet.

So she did.

Shoving her face into the hole in the ground, the sandy yearling scooped up the dead squirrel and bounced forward, not even sparing the loud guardian a second glance. Bark bark, big doggy – that wasn’t her problem. It was obvious what she was doing here – or no longer doing – and it was pretty damn obvious what they were about to do now.

Opening her gate, Little Crow sprinted after her partner in crime, making pace with him easily as they made a straight line away from the pack and back towards the borders.

Guardian Dem 2/3

Ayti snarled and leaped forward when the two of them did not move, and pushed off with his hind legs as the two of them finished up digging the food up. He was not a particularly fast wolf, but the larger yearling couldn't be, either, and he was willing to bet that he had experience on his side. The mocha-colored man made an attempt to slam his side into the flank of the younger male, furious that anyone would even think of stealing from their pack. How low-down and underhanded was that?

Thievery was, in his mind, one of the most cowardly things a wolf could do. And honestly, this way was the worst. Trying to sneak in and not fight for what you wanted? Trying the dirtiest tactics? Literally rolling in actual shit to disguise your scent and taking from wolves who had worked hard for what they had? Especially when Hearthwood had so many little tiny mouths to feed. Honestly, it just brought out the most furious feeling that Ayti had ever experienced in his life.

If his bodyslam had worked, Ayti snapped at the back of the boy's scruff

(This post was last modified: Sep 01, 2017, 09:28 PM by Aytigin.)