Fisher's Split shapes falling out of the fringe

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Loach, a nearby raven won't shut up about a nearby kill-site where sizable prey has died from the severe weather.

His gaze had blurred with sleep, as his eyes opened up.

A raven had seemed fit to be his alarm clock, only it had not stopped its cawing even well after he pulled himself from the makeshift den. So he had tried to chase it off. Only no dice. What the hell had worked it up so horribly?

He groaned, and trudged across the riverside. Only to find that near the edge of their little camp, something had ceased its life. A mule deer seemingly too old to keep up with the herd, had succumb to the winter. Thankfully right here on the edge of the group of wolves that stayed at the split.

Of course he sniffed around for infection or illness first. Looked to see if it suffered anything notable. He could not be the one to feed those he kept around with a bad meal.

A gnarly case of wanderlust paired with a sense of boredom along the lagoon left poor Claw aching for some change in scenery, perhaps even some decent entertainment. Thus the marbled boy found himself traversing uncharted territory beyond the weeping branches of the willows he formerly sought comfort within. Today boundaries would be pushed and new adventures unraveled, the only guide being the winding river kept tucked at his side like a compass.

It had seemed like forever that the miles dragged on with little to no signs of life beyond that of the local prey that scurried about. Claw huffed in disappointment but trudged on. Something or someone had to pop up eventually, right?

Caw. Caw. Caw.

The sound was faint at first, but there nonetheless and enough to cause ebony ears to prick forward immediately. Now, what could that be about? Seeing as he didn't exactly have anything better to do, Claw let his curiosity get the better of him. All it took was a minor detour away from his current position along the riverbank and eventually, a change in smells in the air had his mouth salivating.

Food.

Claw picked up the pace of his paws and hurried along the scent trail of something delicious, his stomach rumbling in response to the possible prospect of eating a decent meal. It didn't take long to come across the fallen carcass of a mule deer, but alas it seemed he wasn't the only one that was drawn to its whereabouts.

He lifted his gaze to see a boy, not far off from his current spot at all.

For a moment, he wondered if it was a smaller indivual. Maybe naturally tiny and only shrunk further by the bony grasp of winter. Although enough time around Llinnea had garnered him the knowledge that this was true and well still a child. On the cusp of his early years.

Loach, for all his roughness, had never been outright cruel.

He offered a woof, deep and distinct. Then gestured to the carcass. Take it you're here because you're wantin' some of this? A raise of a paling brow above orange eyes. The boy could either take the kindness with grace, or be shown the door just as swift if he thought he was owed any of this.

They didn't own this land, but Loach felt they may as well have.

Immediately the boy pumped the brakes once a head lifted itself from the carcass to hone in on his arrival, skidding a couple of inches from trying to stop himself so haphazardly while snow sprayed on either side of him to remain a safe distance. He needed to test the waters before just diving right in. That was one thing his mother taught him whenever he didn't feel confident enough to let his weight do the talking since he was falling in her paw steps as far as size went.

His emerald gaze studied the larger male, noting the swarthy pelt with hues of grey mixed within. No definite cologne of pack seemed to soak his fur, but Claw could definitely make out the various scents of other individuals. Was this a band of loners who happened to be hunkering down together here until the snow melted, or was this the beginning of a new pack soon on the rise?

Claw didn't have much time to mull over these questions as the dark-coated man woofed to get his attention before speaking up. "Only if you don't mind sharing with a kid since you found it first." The Archer boy wasn't one to so readily accept things from those he didn't know, but the rumbling of his stomach and ache beginning to set into his paws was enough to humble the boy. This time.

C'mere. He motioned the boy closer, towards the carcass. Then gestured down at the dead mule deer. Loach had not smelled anything out of the ordinary, but now he expected the boy to earn his meal here too.

Tell me what you smell. Then eat up. Loach settled down onto his rear, orange eyes fixed heavy on the young boy. He seemed worse off than Llinnea had when he'd found her. Although truthfully, she had not been in a great state either, hm?

Which raised the question of why there seemed to be so many wayward children around these parts...

C'mere.

With some reluctance at being told what to do by someone other than his mother, Claw obeyed and approached both the stranger and the fallen deer as he asked what the boy smelled before eating up. At first, the Archer thought the posed question to be a weird one, but after a couple of moments of mulling it over it finally clicked what he could have been meaning. It triggered a memory of his mother when he was barely able to start joining her for hunts. There had been a dead animal on their path, but for some reason, she felt it necessary to scold him for wanting to take a bite right away. She said something about it being no good and to let his nose figure out why.

Claw blinked a couple of times at the man before dipping his head down to brush his nose along various parts of the deer, inhaling its scent deeply for any tell-tale signs of something wrong with it like he had done that day with his mother. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out to the young boy, his sense of smell only picking up on its old age and the early onset of decay yet to be warded off by the icy conditions.

He lifted his head and glanced back at the stranger. "If yer trying to poison me it isn't gonna work." He offered the man a smug smirk, an attempt to break the ice so to speak between them. "Aint nothing wrong other than old age."

The boy was good.

Loach was endeared to the rugged humor of a poison joke. A deep rumble of laughter escaped him. Ain't no herbalist. He rumbled kindly to the boy. But I'm old too, dontcha see? Another set of nosing is good. Another joke. He nodded with warm approval, then leaned down to break the skin. Expose the still fresh meat to the air.

Eat up. Even if the boy had been starving to the brink of death, they would not finish off this deer by just themselves. Loach would still have some to take back to his little crew. Which made him tickle with curiosity on if the boy had his own crew somewhere. Waiting.

Probably best to ask after the meal, hm?

There was some relief to be felt once his attempt at a joke was well received, even going so far as to earn the boy a deep laugh from the older man. This pleased Claw and made itself known when the edges of his pearly whites began to poke through the edge of his lips as they pulled back to form a smile. Another joke was made on the old man's behalf and Claw chuckled softly, his tail swaying in a more relaxed manner at his rump now that whatever initial tension clung to the air between them seemed to dissipate.  

"Thank you."

It took little to no encouragement from this man to begin dining on the carcass once the okay was given, Claw's teeth sinking in and ravaging his own opening on his end of the deer. Once the tantalizing and familiar metallic tang of blood touched his tongue the boy couldn't help the satisfied growl that rumbled quietly in the back of his throat. It had been quite some time since he had a meal that would fill his stomach the way this deer was about to.

So consumed by his hunger the marbled child hardly noticed the inquisitive look the old man was giving him, barely catching a glimpse of it out the corner of his eye before the old man decided to join him to eat. He knew not what it was about, but surely he'd find out eventually if it was worthwhile to this guy.

(This post was last modified: Jan 24, 2023, 05:15 PM by Claw.)

Gluttons, the two of them. Yet Loach did not mind it one bit. He knew it provided both of them with important things. Another day in their books, another meal to keep them forging onward.

Whenever their devouring slowed down...

You know what I'm gonna ask, dontcha? A soft raise of one brow as Loach settled down. He wondered if the boy had left a pack. If his mother had been a wanderer. Maybe they had been a pack once and it had crumbled. Much like Lana had told him of her former place.

The boy could easily be from a place like that.

The silence that fell between the two of them was a comfortable one, the only noises that filled the air were their content rumblings and meat being torn away from bone and muscle alike. Apparently, Claw wasn't the only glutton when it came to eating, but the boy didn't mind. Instead, he found slight amusement in it, common ground between the two men.

Eventually, though, their bellies began to fill and their bites slowed making room for the unavoidable after-dinner conversation Claw knew was bound to come.

Claw removed his head from within the carcass and licked the lingering bits of meat and blood that stained his muzzle in an attempt to clean his face while an ebony ear pricked forward in response to his words. In truth, Claw had his hunch about what the man could possibly want to know, but there honestly wasn't anything interesting he had to say. "I suppose. Ask away, old man." He jested with a small smirk, referring to the man's earlier joke before dipping his head to rub his muzzle against the snow at his paws in an attempt to clean what other remnants of his meal his tongue couldn't reach.