Darkwater Rapids it's never as bad as it looks, in fact it's usually worse

Morning, Broken Clouds, 50 ° F, 10 ° C

ebbing and flowing

pushed by the breeze, i live to make you free

The sound of running water had lured him into this place and now he found himself a bit...lost. A soft defeated look on his chiseled face. The place was so dense and despite being able to hear the flow of water almost all around him it seemed so hard to reach. No matter how many fallen trees he clambered over or how many bushes he pushed through.

He was about the give up right before he spotted a small clearing. It wasn't much, simply a break in the trees, but it gave him hope. His large frame weaseled a bit further into the depths of this place. While he had found what he had been looking for it was clear he was not to get too close. The water whipped and tumbled, crashing over rocks. Rapids.

A deep frown crossed his features. This was not what he had been hoping for. With a huff he kicked a small stone into the water only to quickly lose sight of it once it entered.

Sorry, I'm not sure why I thought he was so much smaller than he is.

Wyckoff stomped forward, pounding the ground under his paws. He hated the thought of what had nearly happened to him. Accidental killing from fighting too roughly was fine. It happened. There was no blame. But purposeful murder? Planning for what sounded like weeks, to get revenge? That wasn't right. He knew that he and his sister had a grand total of no familial attachment, but he hadn't expected her to plan his murder!

A sound broke through his sense-numbing anger. A stone falling into a river. He stepped forward, quieter now, to see a dark yearling frowning at the rushing rapids. He was bigger than he was by quite a bit.Nice to see nothing has changed from the yearlings I trained back home, he thought, smirking. It had been an endless uphill climb to get those wolves to submit to a trainer who was technically ranked lower than them, never mind how small he was compared to them.

"Hey you!" he called. "Whatcha doin'?"

(This post was last modified: Oct 21, 2018, 02:29 PM by Wyckoff. Edit Reason: I derped )

Have you read my player preferences?

A young fawn has gotten separated from its herd. Hunt Opportunity, +8 Health

just want to say that they wouldn't be close to the same size as you have Wyckoff listed as "small side of medium" and Abel is large.

He didn't like the tone that called out to him. A disinterested look crossed his features as his golden gaze glanced at the smaller male. "Uh, nothing?" He answered with a quirked brow. Did it look like he was doing anything? Abel took in a deep breath to cool himself down. It would do him no good to get riled up over some fellow loner sticking his nose into his business.

"So can I help you?" The large Tainn asked calmly, focusing on the scarred male. They were a fellow loner too, no defining scents clinging to his frame. They are scarred though and he was forced to wonder if the life of a loner had done that to him. It made him feel a little uneasy. Abel was not looking to get damaged any time soon.

If Abel doesn't submit, Wyckoff will attack.

"Uh, nothing," Well that was boring. The scarred Scunthorpe was simply asking, in his odd way, why the other wolf was kicking stones into the spring. He was about to aim a thorny retort at the yearling, when he noticed his gaze on his scars, and stiffened. He wasn't ashamed of them. They proved he had been in battle and survived, for all that was worth, but it was odd having someone casting even a second glance at them. Back on the Peak, everyone had at least a couple scars. He had seen a Scunthorpe wolf with most of his tail missing, and the bits that remained were shredded to pieces.

A smell touched his nostrils. A deer herd. He snarled immediately, "Mine!" His fur was bristled and his tail pointed straight up above his back. Wyckoff would not let a yearling take this meal from him!

Have you read my player preferences?

His hackles bristled and the look of distaste for this stranger was plain across his face. "What is your problem?" He asked sharply. He had tried to be friendly despite the stranger's harsh start and yet here the male was throwing claims around that meant as much as an owl pellet. They were both loners. Nothing belonged to either of them. Even Abel, a new loner, knew that.

"If you want it so badly then go get it and leave me alone." He ordered sharply. The large Tainn had not come here to be annoyed by some selfish fool. So he'd let the loner be a fool alone and try to take down a larger prey by themselves. Abel had never been a very vengeful creature but he wouldn't mind if this guy got a hoof to the face for his behavior here.

My problem? "My problem is that some loner's standing here that doesn't know what fighting for your life is!" he snarled his voice full of scorn. "If you can't accept the fact that I want what I want and you have no say in that, you can just go back where you came from! Maybe whatever softies you grew up with didn't teach you this, but," he leaned in close, "Here in the real world, you got to fight to survive. There are no easy handouts here!" His voice started off soft, but grew louder at the end so he was almost shouting. Wyckoff didn't know why this wolf was ticking him off so much. He took a deep breath, only to curl his mouth into a snarl again as he expressed disinterest in actually hunting the deer. That fox boy, (@Vaken) and now this! "So leave," he spat. "Not like anyone cares if you go hungry tonight!"

Have you read my player preferences?

You have some serious problems. I never told you what you could or could not want. I didn't even challenge you for that dumb deer that is probably long gone by now because you couldn't just go for something. No. You had be some pompous ass and think I don't know jack about the real world. His lips pulled bark in a sharp snarl as his hackles raised. You're the one who's going to go hungry if you get mad over every meal and let it flee because you're too busy trying to prove yourself, you'll be doomed to wither in the cold. Abel was usually above fighting with the strangers but this guy had rubbed him entirely wrong.

But whatever man. Wither, rot, get kicked by a deer. No one will care. Especially not me. Maybe that was harsh but it seemed that was the only way this guy would understand. Yet Abel didn't feel like waiting to see if the message got through his thick skull and so he turned around and left without another word.

-exit-

"Oh yes?" he hissed. "I wanted the deer so I told you I wanted it!" That's normal, puppy boy!" It was normal to him. Oh course, Wyckoff had never been a hunter, and his meals were the slim pickings they brought back. But more than half of what he ate was stolen from other wolves. Some didn't even fight back, and those he had always held a special resentment for.

As the yearling continued to argue, Wyckoff sat and waited. He was tired of trying to whack some sense into him. Finally, the wolf stopped and walked away. "Good luck out here!" he called after the boy, a final insult. Now, let's go get that deer, he thought, licking his lips. It could be gone, but it also could be deaf or something and still there. He'd just have to see.

-fade-

Have you read my player preferences?