It had finally come; the time to go had come and gone, but Harvestmoon had waited until the last second before leaving his littermate. Newmoon had practically shoved him back towards home, but they had at last parted ways. Newmoon promised he would follow soon, he just couldn't go home yet but it had long since been time that Harvest go himself. He wasn't sure if his heart was light or heavy as his pale paws turned their way towards home. Once he had hoped he would be bringing a family back to the grove of trees, but now he was returning alone. His blue eyes sought out the horizon, taking in the raising sun and deciding, with a sigh, that he should find a place to rest. He'd been walking through the night and his pads were sore.
Turning his face towards the dawn, he sighed softly before looking in another direction. Imagine his surprise when his gaze found a dark shape not too far off. A lion, though a young one. Still, Harvest was wary. The wound in his shoulder hadn't completely healed yet, and he knew better than to trust animals out in the roguelands now. His brows rose before he decided to wait and see just where this encounter would take him. If it swept him to death, he found he didn't care at this point. All the swifter he would be with his dead mate.
Unbeknown to Harvestmoon, the dark shape had been trailing him for almost a mile now, avoiding detection by keeping downwind. No one taught Grendel how to hunt but he knew the basics. Stay downwind, be stealthy and strike as quickly as you can. Now he was beginning to close in.
Was this creature prey? Grendel wasn’t sure. The only animals he ever hunted were mere afternoon snacks: hares, fish, monkeys, and the occasional turtle. He never saw an animal like this before. It was like a hyena, only not.
Suddenly the creature stopped and looked in his direction. A snarl built in Grendel’s throat, for he knew it had to be now. Leaping out of the grass he charged at Harvestmoon with full force, teeth bared and claws slicing up the earth. If it ran Grendel would give chase and try to knock its hind legs out from under its body so he could tackle it. On the other hand, if it stood to fight he would face it with a roar. He wanted to see if this thing was food or foe.
Oh well, that had been the expected response. His muscles tensed instinctively as he heard the snarl grow in the dark creature, and a flash of that night not too long ago caused his eyes to shut tight for a brief moment before opening wide with a quiet gasp. This was not that lion, but he seemed no more friendly than the last. Crouching, Harvest dug his claws into the dirt and braced himself to dodge out of the way at the right moment.
He would go down fighting. He owed his mate that much, but he also knew that even not yet full grown the lion outmatched him by weight, if nothing else. His own lip pulled back in a growl as his hackles rose and his tail bristled; so this was how it was going to be. This was ridiculous; he'd gone most of his life without ever being attacked by another animal, and now it seemed he couldn't even go a few months without being attacked again, but he felt his muscles bunch as he watched and waited for the right moment. He knew better than to turn and just run like a preybeast, he had to stand his ground and wait for that perfect second to fight or flee.
Grendel was not an experienced fighter. The last time he fought was in the war between the sovereign males and rebellious females of his old pride. Viciously attacked by his own mother, Grendel was fortunate to escape the chaos with his life. Fortunately, he was able to hide out in the jungle until his wounds healed. Coupled with the devastating loss of his father, that defeat hung over Grendel’s head like a dark thundercloud. When Harvestmoon turned to face him Grendel’s muscles quickened. He had something to prove.
He threw himself at his foe, letting out a monstrous roar. The attack was extremely powerful but also reckless.
Harvest had nothing to prove, and nothing to lose. All that had been taken from him by that demon in the night, and that attack had at least had some basis in the recent kill he and his brother had made, even if it had escalated into madness. This... this was unprovoked, but he was beginning to wonder if some lions simply killed for the fun of it. He was too world-weary to question it.
That recklessness provided him some means of escape, and he dodged to one side of the adolescent's barreling attack. His ears pinned against his skull as he landed into a crouch once again, ignoring the pain in the muscles of his shoulder. It would give out eventually, probably, but he was heedless of it for now. He was more worried about keeping an eye on this cat that seemed keen to kill him, and whether or not it would be better just to surrender to his fate.
As he landed Grendel’s legs shook from absorbing the momentum of his body, leaving behind a sting. He whirled around, fangs bared, a snarl curling in his throat. This creature looked flimsy but he was quick. Even though he lost a good deal of weight after the war Grendel was still too huge to match his speed.
By now Grendel knew he had made a grievous error. That first attack stole most of his energy, leaving him panting. Even if he had eaten a decent meal the other day instead of scavenging off a carcass he still wouldn’t have much energy left to spare. He started to pace, sizing up his opponent. The sight of Harvestmoon’s canines confirmed what Grendel already suspected. This was no herbivore. If Grendel could kill and eat a fellow carnivore, he did not believe the gods would punish him.
It wasn’t long before Grendel noticed something odd about his opponent’s stance. Spotting a weak point, Grendel swung at Harvestmoon’s injured shoulder.
He recognized the moment the lion realized the wild dog wasn't going to be quite so easy a kill as that. His blue eyes were bright as he watched the cat, his pads digging into the soil as his bristling tail swung high behind him. All the same, the dog wasn't so cocksure as to believe he was really any sort of match. He was in danger; serious danger, and instincts alone were causing him to fear the coming of his own demise.
Waiting, he shifted back and forth from one paw to the other as he waited for the lion's next move. The animal was panting, which gave him some hope, but he knew that alone would hardly save him. He watched with his icy blues as the cat paced, his own lips pulling back once more over his teeth in a consistent snarl, not once looking away.
But he should have known a fellow predator would pick up that weakpoint, and he couldn't lunge away fast enough to keep from the full force of the blow. It landed, and the claws that struck his flesh were too familiar. He hit the dirt, but kept rolling so that he could land on his feet once again, only to find he couldn't put weight on the leg any longer. Holding it minutely aloft, he searched his opponent for a similiar weakpoint - anything that he might bite and gain some ground.
Grendel’s laughter cracked off like a roll of thunder as Harvestmoon tumbled. Harvestmoon’s paw held aloft as if begging for pity was a sure sign of victory. Grendel stepped forward, breathe burning in his chest through a wide open, hungry smile as he casually shook the white bangs from his face, revealing a white scorpion mark on his nose, poisonous stinger held at the ready. Every breathe Grendel took carried the scent of Harvestmoon’s blood. Hunger shined in the red eyes of the young lion. “You can’t run anymore. I can make this easy.”
"You could, but I'd hate to ruin your work out." He muttered, knowing the lion's keen hearing would pick it up anyway. Harvest was busy, his bright eyes searching for some sort of opening or chance of escape. His insides were roiling, demanding that he find some sort of way to get away. His heart may be ready to surrender to death, but his body was still slave to its basic needs, including survival.
"Besides, young ones are always getting things the easy way. Makes them lazy." He didn't even finish speaking before he leapt at the cat, hoping to land on his back and take a chunk or two out of the animal's shoulder with his sharpened teeth before he was flung off.
Grendel smirked as he listened to Harvestmoon’s rant. This creature thought he was clever. While Grendel was occupied with thinking up a snappy come back, Harvestmoon attacked. Startled, Grendel swung his body from side to side, roaring in fury. He threw himself hard to the left, hard to the right, and with one option left to try, he threw himself to the left again, harder this time, and let his feet leave the ground. He hit the ground on his side and rolled onto his back.
He had hoped that talking would have distracted the lion long enough to aide him, and he had been awarded with a successful attack. He sunk his teeth into the lion's back, beneath the thick start of his mane where his teeth would have done little good, and felt the rush of blood in his teeth...
And then he held on for dear life. The cat's thrashing was enough to give the dog whiplash, but he hadn't foreseen the sudden roll - or he had, but hadn't been expecting it then. He let go with a sharp yelp before rolling a far enough distance away that he could view the animal's next move without being caught off guard again. His chest was heaving, and adrenaline made it easier to put weight on the injured leg, but he was tiring. This was ridiculous, but now he knew how preybeast felt.
When Grendel regained his footing his back split with pain. He hunched over, teeth grit as blood dribbled down his shoulder. He didn’t expect the flimsy creature to try and finish him off – Grendel’s powerful jaws would slice his neck in two before he got close enough, so he sat on his haunches and let the pain bleed away. He lifted his head, lips curled back in a snarl. “What kind of animal are you?” he demanded in a low growl.
That caused some bit of surprise to spread through his adrenaline laced veins, so that he lifted his head a bit and arched a single brow curiously. What a silly question! And how like a youth to attack an animal they didn't recognize. He hesitated before spitting back in a low growl, "A wild dog. He didn't know what else to say, but braced himself all the same as he watched the cat bleed.
Grendel snorted in disgust. He loathed that he must suffer another defeat, but for now his hunger outweighed his fury. Better to go and rest for the next hunt then waste more energy trying to kill this ‘wild dog.’ His father always told him that the world was a harsh, unfair place. Now Grendel finally understood what he meant. Grendel stared at the wild dog, memorizing his features and pelt. This would not end here. “We'll call this a draw for now. Get out of here before I decide to kill you.”
Harvest just stared at him for a few moments, unsure if he was hearing things and in shock that his death hadn't come for him just yet. His blood ran cold with sudden relief, but the adrenaline kicked in as he processed that threat. He snorted, as well, and narrowed his eyes at the lion, "Let's hope you've grown up by then, and learned some manners." But with that, he turned and slinked off into the brush of the savannah, quick to let his coat blend into the grasses beneath the morning sunlight and hoping that he could make it to the Peke Na without collapsing. Finding a place to lick his wounds might leave the cat enough time to track him, and he'd rather be safe behind the borders of the packlands than let that happen.
Grendel released a roar to chase off the sound of Harvestmoon's fleeing paws. When the silence krept back in, he lifted himself painfully started for the nearest patch of shade, growling to himself all the way. If his father was there things would be different. He didn't even know whether his father was dead or alive. The hatred he felt for the rebellion burned in his veins, hotter than ever.
