Fallen Tree Cove dead weight

A lanky creature, the starlight painting her silver and sharp—all stark edges. The February night was cool and crisp, the moon elsewhere. Perhaps it hid on the other side of the world, or perhaps, it was all in shadow; she didn't know, and did not care. It was just her and the frozen lake and the multitude of stars, distant, cold, and careless.

How long had she been back now? Months? Too long something in her roared, but she paid it no mind.

Filth.

Months and nothing. She nibbled on the caches whenever her hunting skills failed her, but added little to them; she drifted along the borders, a stray cloud, and about as social as a bank of fog. She did her best to be a constant scent, yet avoided everyone—always there, never seen. She wandered the mountain, kept odd hours. She smelled of the Cove, but not of its wolves.

Time to change? Or time to run? Oh, she had been tempted, and perhaps, she had tested Kajika's trust in her a time or two—stayed away so long her scent almost faded, only to return, still silent, still not interacting, but letting her scent sink into the earth and snow. An apology, perhaps, or shame.

Useless. It roiled in her blood, sometimes a slow poison, at other times a raging wildfire. Filthfilthfilthfilth—

She stood upon the lake's thick ice, somewhere in the no man's land between "far out" and "only sort of far out". There was no risk in it, anyway—the thick crust wouldn't melt for at least another month. Her claws clicked on the hard surface as she turned, walked a few steps off. Dead weight.

All the better to sink with, dear. Her lips curled back in a sneer. There was no drowning at this time of year. There was no relief, no release, only wastelands and pent-up frustrations. So she stood there, out on the lake, the wind ruffling her starlit fur and cooling her heart. For perhaps the first time, she knew exactly what to do.

He had been woken by his thirst, and decided not to bother the others in guiding him down to the lakeside to quench the need. It had to be pride, not consideration, that drove him. He rarely, if ever, had felt the later, and this injury of his had proved all too much. Roland had thought it would get better once he was here, back under @Kajika and @Moonshadow's wings, but the fear was still there that he would be forever cripple and with it brought shame of his condition. He had told no other wolf what had happened, not that the boy had familiarized himself with the others anyways. The less they knew, until he had more information himself, the better.

So he made his way slowly and painfully, lame leg dragging through the snow to skew his tracks. He didn't notice her until he was already at the shore, searching for where the ice was brittle from having been repeatedly broken in the pack's need for a water source. Roland paused and squinted to get a better view of her, out onto the reaches of the lake that was nearly only distinguishable for the clearing amongst the precipices and conifers its presence created. Was the ice truly so strong? He still was not used to this mountainous living, and how much colder the thin air was than below in the forests.

Roland imagined her suddenly plummeting out of view with a splash, imagined that was her goal, and a ghostly smile graced his muzzle.

"Wishing for a weak spot?"

His voice carried through the otherwise silent air, across the snowy ice to the girl he did not know.

Movement on the shore made adrenaline surge through her body. It was almost triumphant, a flash, a roar; yes! But, as her eyes made out the narrow form of a creature not yet having reached adulthood, it died. Ashes. Disappointment. It was just the pup that had been picked up at some point, left back leg all kinds of wrong. It hindered his movements, but.. Kajika and Moonshadow allowed him to be here, so she would not protest.

He was useless to her plans. He was useless to her need. In irritation, her fangs flashed once in the darkness, but likely she was too far out for him to see.

She almost hoped he wasn't.

She wanted a fight. She wanted something to flick all the switches and ignite fury in her; she wanted to rip and tear, split skin and feel blood rush into her mouth. She wanted to destroy something, but guilt kept her from it. It was twisting and complex and shameful, so she chose not to think of it. Just studied the wolf, as pale as she, as he bent for a moment to study the ice near the shore, before looking up at her. The silence held a few seconds longer as she stood indifferent out on the ice, wishing he would go away.

"Wishing for a weak spot?" he called out to her, and both her ears rammed forward. Yeah, for you, she felt like snapping at him, but she feigned a cool she didn't feel. Her silver shoulders rose in a shrug. "Maybe," she called back, flippant, but there was a raw edge to her voice—something she couldn't contain, something that wanted to spit sparks and watch the whole world burn. She shifted on the ice, claws clicking against it as she padded a little closer. Her eyes were sharp. "What happened to your leg?" But if it was concern you wanted to hear, you wouldn't find it; just callous interest.

She began to suspect her heart had died sometime during the cold winter. Withered, frostbitten, it sat heavy in her chest.

Roland didn't see the weakness that he had wanted to. Of course, the finer details of her features were indistinguishable at this distance. Perhaps there had been a flicker in the eyes? One could only hope. Roland knew this girl to have been around, but never actually encountered her before tonight. He had to wonder what it was that prompted her to act like a ghost, leaving such little traces of her existence. He hoped for it to be insecurity, a troubled heart perhaps; they would be easier to exploit.

Instead, she pointed out his one weakness, his only weakness and it took strength for him not to show the grimace he felt within form upon his lips. It was with that question alone, the indifference of its tone, that Roland decided he very much did not like this wolf.

"Fought off a cougar," he fabricated with ease, as though none of it bothered him a bit, "fucker had thrown us both into a hole."

That damned underground sea.

(This post was last modified: Feb 21, 2018, 02:49 PM by Roland.)

There are several fresh rabbit tracks in the mud. Hunt Opportunity

To the kid's credit, her question didn't seem to bother him. There was no wincing, no throwing himself to the ice and screaming for forgiveness for having been so stupid as to let something hurt him, no begging for death because he was unfit to live—all of them reactions Lunette's mind might've thought of having had it been she who limped around like some damn half-dead deer.

She didn't know whether she liked it or not. It was a little like having something hot and sharp poke a hole in her skin, searing away something of her armor, that fragile, flimsy thing made of anger. This child was obviously a year younger than her, but he must be one of those normal ones, whose minds were made of sterner stuff and who didn't think about unceremoniously ceasing to exist at pretty much all times.

It just brought her own differences into the harsh light of her mind, and so it was with contempt radiating off of her in barely perceptible waves that she drew to a halt closer to him.

"Fought off a cougar," he said, as if it was nothing for a kid. A cold, sardonic smile plastered itself on Lunette's pale maw. "What a hero," she simply said, wishing she could snap his other back leg and somehow get away with it—anything, to pound the frustration out of her veins. "Roll with the kitties often, kid?"

The corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown as she spoke. He didn't like her tone, deeply insulted that she would be so dismissive of his imaginary feat. Damn straight he would've been a hero for that, should've been thought it because of what he told her. Had she seen through the lie, or did she really not care? Roland wasn't sure if impressing her was a worthwhile pursuit or not, but he certainly wasn't about to walk away with his tail between his legs. Whatever this was turning into, she wasn't going to be the one to win it.

"What've you done, that my fight doesn't impress you? What great battles have you fought?"

He wasn't just trying to attack her, petulant that she was responding so illy to him. Roland was also seeking an avenue to learn more about her. More information that would help him regain the upper paw here.