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 Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2009 8:22 pm
 The river ran quite deep to the northwest of the less dense forest that the Akiiki Chibale pack ruled, a particularly favorite spot of his when he wanted to rest. Nowadays his old haunt to the far east was too close to this dark group of wolves for comfort; not that Dover was afraid, but caution was never too much to excersize, and when his job had no entitlement to wander near such a bloodthirsty pack, he made no effort to stick around. Nose lowered to the ground, the earthen wolf followed silent as a lamb the scent of a rather nasty lynx that he had heard had been causing some problems in this particular area of Telk.
It was only called Redstep, a carnivore with a skewed mind and a craving for violence - chemicals in the brain gone awry no doubt, he thought as he honed in on the smell, fine-tuned his ears to his surroundings, even tasted the terrible creature's presence upon his open mouth. It was growing hotter; luckily he was being taken to the shade of the forest, though Dover would have preffered at the same tim to avoid any mishaps if Akiiki Chibale members saw him. Still, it was a case he felt compelled to finish, if not out of moral and typical vigilante duty, then out of simple boredom. He could not find a wolf to entreat his services - therefore, he made his own when he could. It was a sad life to behold, Dover believed, to be reduced from fighting the greatest of opponents to mere tailing of a crazy lynx.
There! A muted voice came from the distance to his right, parallel to the river. Redstep was known to mumble to himself, fearing all company except his own and thus enjoying the suond of his voice. Dover pinpointed the husky sound and followed quietly, lightly weighing his steps on the grass. It seemed Redstep was tracking yet another victim . . .
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Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2009 7:21 pm
While Akiiki Chibale was a strong pack, and a protective unit at that, it wasn't this territory that this newcomer had to fear. Oh no, it was to the north and to the west that was unwise for this canine to embark through, and the stories that came from these lands were numerous throughout Telk. In fact, that was what drew the little creature to this neck of the woods. Well, if she couldn't find herself a place to settle, at least she had the sense not to step into those dark territories where white fangs were the first and only thing you'd see before darkness took you. Or worse. Her young mind manipulated the whispers she had eavesdropped upon, having come across a rather talkative crow one evening sharing what he'd seen with a fellow of his kind. Her growling stomach betrayed her which then led into a rather dramatic scene between the large bird and pup which undoubtedly ended with her cowering beneath a log with a throbbing head.
She stayed away from birds from that point on.
From there she traveled along the river, stopping every now and again to attempt to fish, growing hungrier by the moment, and lacking in skill, found attaining her own food was less than fruitful. Two days had passed. A soft frustrated whimper murmured from her throat as her belly growled. Despite this, she was lucky, as her system was growing used to the sensation of starvation, unable to distinguish between hunger and fatigue as more time passed. This was why she moved. If she could reach any place were wolves hunted at least she had a chance of finding something left behind.
That was when she heard a flop. Interested, she whirled over, watching the ripples of the river where a fish had just a second before been. "You want to play, huh?" she said deeply, growing a thin smirk on her narrow face. Her tail rose as she tip-toed toward the water, hoping to make an easy kill.
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 4:09 pm
Easy kill indeed. Watching the arched back of the sly hunter creep closer to the fringe of the trees, Dover belatedly became aware of the hunter's prey: a scrawny yet cheerfully-colored pup making her somewhat merry way to the water for a stab at fishing. Thing didn't look near capable of the feat: might as well wait for the fish to leap into your paws of its own accord. But it forced the game to have consequences - either kill the thing, or let it kill her. And the mercenary rolled hiseyes slightly because he absolutely hated having bystanders getting involved, especially young ones. A matter of timing, calculation, aim, precision, stren-
Unfortunately, Dover did not take into account the fact that Redstep was more feral and less of a thinker. Planning, therefore, had no effect unless it was done far ahead of time and quickly executed, not this sitting and mulling business. The muddy-colored lynx bounded with a sudden snarl towards the strangely-decorated pup, claws extended to pin her down into the water: drowning, the slowest form of killing. Dover flew after it with his own low growl, painfully reminded of how time did not wait for no-beast. but did the girl have to be here, now of all times? Damn abandoned kids . . . It was almost a fad now, he thought: either you were crazy, had no parents, both, or were currently in a family of crazies. Or had the weirdest, most outlandish, most disturbingly colored pelt. What was Telk coming to?
"Watchit!" he managed bark before his fangs sank into the lynx's hindleg, sharpened teeth sliding down its ankle as Redstep's momentum pulled it forward regardless. Dover managed to n** a small chunk of flesh out, but it did not check the lynx's movements as it sailed towards the pup. The wolf narrowed his eyes and followed quickly.
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Posted: Thu Apr 16, 2009 9:34 pm
A thin red tail wiggled in the air as the lean creature positioned herself at the edge of the water, watching the rippling surface that echoed the presence of the fish. The doubt that she would be successful hardly crossed her mind as she focused, though it was a farfetched ideal that only a child could construct, and this blissful ignorance was what lifted her spirits. With all her heart she believed she would be successful. She needed to be if she wanted to live. The form of the wiggling catfish came into view just beneath her black nose. Poised, she readied herself for the exact moment of impact, and hoped her timing would be dead on.
The bark of the wolf behind her was enough to send her flying into the water, forgetting all about the fish, as her head sunk beneath the surface. What was that! Certainly no one else was around...right? Well, that was an obvious no. The surface broke triumphantly as she rose to meet the stranger, though not squeak came from her maw, locked tight with the onset of adrenaline creeping along with fright at its heal. Her shaking body paddled in the water as the pup whirled about. Where had the voice come from?
The answer came before she even realized what had befallen her. The gleaming eyes of the large cat were fixated on her small form and only a few feet away and approaching the water fast. The wolf was hardly seen behind. Yelping, the pup fled, fighting the impulse to cower in her spot, but wading through water wasn't as easy as leaping across solid ground. Panic swarmed her as she attempted to reach the other side of the shore. She had to reach it, she had to get there.
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Posted: Fri Apr 17, 2009 11:00 am
Inches. Mere inches . . . He drove his powerful body forward with uncommon intensity, the haggard breaths of the lynx before him almost mocking the wolf for his delay of choice: as if one needed to think before saving a pup! But Redstep was an aged old thing, and though its decrepit claws grew so close to snatching the cherry bright youngling, its gnarled teeth so close to tearing thruogh that delectably red coat, soft meat, so tender and warm from the fresh kill, its squeals like dinnner bells that heightened the adrenaline, made his blood flow quicker, strengthen the senses, the hunger . . .
Even though it was so close to the kill, "almost" was never enough in a hunt. Did he graze the flank, did he manage a n** of the little morsel? No, it wasn't soft but lean, unflexible - older. Brown, not red, and then a glimmer of white rocketing at him. What was that protruding from the thing's mouth? Redstep no longer knew; suddenly all his paws found was air; his legs spasmed painfully with sharp stabs, his belly raked clean by two sets of thorns, wet, warm . . . But not his wet and warm, no! The lynx felt himself flung like a ragdoll against the ground, half-in and half-out of the water - the thing was brutish, making a quick snap at his throat while Redstep was incapacitated. Crimson tinged the clear blue waters - a gutteral sigh bubbled forth from the killer's mouth as his eyes went sightless.
Dover stood over the carcass with something like the finality of a nuisance gone. He had forgotten how easy the target actually would be, considering the lynx's old age . . . Blood trickled down his muzzle and he spat it out. The thing had been crazy; he'd eat none of it whatsoever and would rather it rot. Slowly, breathing deeply to recover himself from the tussle, Dover yanked the body out of the river before it tainted too much, disliking each second he spent close to the musky-scented creature. Out of the water at last, he sat down chacked himself for wounds quickly: scrapes, several claw wounds, nothing that couldn't be but several days of healing.
In the least the little one went unharmed. That was a nice bonus. He made to stand and a bolt of pain struck him, staggering back to the ground with a grunt. Another glance at the wound: huh, larger than expected, actually sort of nasty . . . "Tch." Nice little would had to be right down one of his backlegs, that grimy piece of . . .
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Posted: Mon May 04, 2009 9:19 pm
She didn't look back. She couldn't. Pausing for even a split second would be the same as standing still, waiting for the fangs to clamp around her thin neck and toss her aside with as much effort as it would take to throw a rag. Hard paws pounded through the water, splashing her entire body as she attempted to reach the exit. Beyond this wasn't any better of an escape way, but it was better than doing nothing. As the sandy bottom closed the female lunged her forepaws onto the bank, using them with a bit of resistance to slide onto the muddy embankment where she quickly clawed into to help receive leverage. The flop of her tail as she yanked herself up, her body sopping wet.
The scream and crunching sound of the life lost was hardly heard as she darted into the brush. The bushes surrounding the creek was the only shelter, and so, with a sudden dive, she buried herself beneath the foliage, hiding away unknowing that what she had heard was the triumph of her savior. For all she knew this wolf was an enemy as well...even with doubt, it was perfectly plausible.
What drew her out? Well, the sudden murmur from the stranger and the silence that prolonged afterward. The brush quivered with her shaking. And the ground beneath her claws was starting to soak as she stood crouched lowly to the ground. Her eyes peeked out the leaves, observe the water and the brown form beyond. "Hrmm" she muttered, distressed, as she yanked her head back into the shelter, squinting her eyes together painfully as to forget. It took another minute to draw her head out once more, her eyes still closed tight. "You okay?"
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Posted: Tue May 05, 2009 2:36 pm
A mercenary he might be, but he didn't like the taste of blood - much less his own. Still, Dover dutifully cleansed the wound with his tongue without so much as another wince escaping him even as the pain settled in; it was all mind over matter anyway, setting the cuorse not upon the results but upon recovery, so much more important . . . Infection had to be staid. Length was the bruiser, though, a nice line slicing through his thigh and just past his knee. He glanced at the beast's claws: mighty long, damn monster must've kept them nice and sharp for those quick kills . . .
Mind mulling over these things and not much else, it took Dover a moment to realize that frightened voice was addressing him. Several licks more, he spat away the blood and rumbled,
"'Okay' is an understatement to say the least.
But the worst is over: I've slain the beast."
He attempted to stand up, slowly this time, and his wounded leg trembled beneath the weight. A harsh sigh escaped him.
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Posted: Thu May 07, 2009 9:54 pm
The glowing eyes of the youth continued to stare through the brush; only her specks and nose were truly visible. As she watched him all the more, the pup wondered just how dangerous he was. Well, he had obviously just killed a well known murderous lynx and got away with only one cut, which was a feat in and of itself, no matter how deep the wound. He was dangerous, a threat even, but somehow she sensed things were calming around him, and carefully -certainly without much thought, but even if she decided to stay in the bush it wouldn't have been of any use to her- the pup crawled from the shelter, head low and body against the ground.
''Were you after him or did you see him coming?" it didn't really matter, but she wondered if this was something he would have done regardless of if the lynx was after her or not. The answer wouldn't prove anything.
The slide of pads, the click of claws, and the swipe of her body as it neared the shore once more was the only sound she make, listening for his response. She wanted to inspect that wound. She had caused it, after all. At least, that was what she told herself. But how to get back? Though her eyes were fused with the brown male's form, Leslie was aware of the crimson water and wouldn't dare cross through it to reach the male. "Ah..." the only time she took her eyes from him was in that moment, searching farther down the creek at an attempt to find some cleaner way of joining him.
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Posted: Fri May 08, 2009 6:07 pm
"Both." He went through the trial of several steps, finding that adjusting his weight was not hard, but certainly cumbersome to remember to do; then again, painful jolts were healthy enough reminders. Bearings returned, Dover's pale yellow eyes scrutinized the pup for any sign of his failure to stop the lynx in time, but it appeared as though the merrily red one was unharmed beyond, understandibly, looking as though she could have leapt out of her fur with the shock. Good enough, he supposed.
"Run along home now," he told her, dipped his head, and grasped Redstep's corpse to drag it away further from the river; no need for the display to be out for anyone to see. Even the meat's sour, Dover thought, muzzle wrinkled with distaste as he tugged the heavy body out of sight and into the woods. Even started to rule out his hunger it was.
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Posted: Tue May 19, 2009 7:05 pm
She continued to look about the river, not wanting to have to travel off a distance in order to follow the male, but didn't want to cross the only place favorable, right in front of her. No, that wasn't an option. Not in the least. Looking up, she half smiled at his reply, not really sure what it meant but was happy to hear it anyway. There wasn't any reason Leslie really needed to care about what reason he had for killing the creature, but it was somewhat comforting to know he had her back, even for that one moment in time. It made her feel safe...like...like...
His second statement stopped her in her tracks. Staring at him blankly from across the creek, the pup gave a vacant expression unable to speak for a second or so as her mind relayed the cold reality of her life "I don't have a home," she answered finally rather bluntly. She snapped out of it as soon as it had come upon her. Prancing down the creek a ways she gave a short pout and patted at the water, looking back up to the adult for some amount of guidance, not daring to look down to the lump of fur in he dragged along, "How do I cross?"
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Posted: Tue May 19, 2009 8:11 pm
"How do I cross"? Really? A quiet sort left him as he ridded from his sight the sorry corpse, nudging Redstep into the shadows of a thick bushel and stepped back; a few branches and some dirt later, were it not for the stench stubborn to stay in his nose and mouth, he could hardly have noticed the lynx there. Also good enough. The male's ears tilted towards the young voice and he sighed quietly to himself. Of course: an orphan. An orphan with a problem crossing rivers. His luck was just fantastic these days, starting back to when he had been bad-mouthed by a somewhat haughty and cautious female. Now he had a nice old scar to hobble with for weeks! Damn if his travelling wouldn't suffer because of it . . .
"S'called swimming," Dover said gruffly as he walked out from the forest edge, standing across from her, dipping his head down to wash away the taste of rancid blood. With water coating his whole muzzle and some of his neck, he appeared to have grown a plasterd, dark brown beard. "Try it. Walk in the water like on land, keep your head up, stay calm, push hard 'gainst the current." A simple method with simple wording. He had never had problems with bodies of water, taking to it very well unlike most; almost as though he should have been a fish than a wolf, though he would rather lungs and four paws anyday than the boring life of a gilled guy.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2009 7:18 pm
Leslie frowned. Of course she knew how to swim, didn't he just see her cross the creek just moments before? Sure she was prompted to move by fear, but certainly she had some sense of how to swim already. She grew frustrated. That wasn't what she had meant to ask. What she actually wanted from the wolf was something, well, something a little more comforting, and of course an easy explanation of how to get around the mess he had left in the previously clear water. It wasn't his fault of course he misunderstood, and this was what annoyed her. She hadn't explained herself effectively.
"I know, I know. I just..." she paused, looking nervous as she spoke, still refusing to look toward the dyed current. "Where, um, where do I cross? I don't want to run into...that." Sure she could have just swam around it, but for her that was the same as being in it. Anywhere in the facility was tainted as far as she was concerned and the pup wanted nothing to do with it.
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Posted: Wed May 27, 2009 12:51 pm
"Upstream from the blood," Dover grunted simply with a flick of his ears. What a sour stomach he had now . . . Food was ruined as well? Damn all lynxes, curse the creatures to the darkest abyss of Hell, those sleazy, no-good, festering sores of mammals! An unconscious, soft snarl escaped him as he jabbed his head to their left in the opposite direction of the river flow. "'Nless you want me to carry you." And judging from his voice, that didn't sound very prospectable at all; then again, pup fur would be a refreshment from the metallic taste of blood.
Dover had to think, however. A lone pup was standing before him, jittery from the near-death event and with no-one else to turn to. Patience. Patience was what he needed. The snarl smoothed itself back into his typical stoic expression as the great wolf sighed.
Gentleness. Compassion. Sympathy. These were concepts he had to reacquaint himself with.
"I can carry you
Past blood red, through
the river blue," the earthen wolf rumbled, and he lowered his head down to the pup's level, though for his great size it did little to diminish it.
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 1:51 pm
As soon as he mentioned swimming near the swirling liquid her heart fell while her ears flattened against her head. There was no way she was going to do that...it was just too close. Shuffling her paws, Leslie continued to stare, her eyes saying all. It was when he mentioned carrying her across that she perked up, her golden specks flashing with a sense of relief and caution was thrown to the wind. Though this stranger was someone she knew she had to pay attention to, there was something about his soothing voice that brushed away any anxiety.
"Okay," Leslie muttered, creeping through the brush and toward the water, her eyes still not daring to look downward. Instead they were still focused on the male's dusty body, watching carefully. Watching him dip his head, her eyes matched his, leveling out as the pup stared back.
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Posted: Tue Jun 09, 2009 7:53 am
The male dipped his paws into the water at her response, the river carrying up just past his belly at its deepest, and he gave a small sigh; what good fortune that at least blood could be washed away with time in these sun-warmed waters, perhaps the only thing about nature that he could truly enjoy. For a wolf his size, Dover appeared quite graceful in the water despite his wounded leg, and he treaded to the other side in no time despite the somewhat rushed current. Without another word, neither a warning nor a preparatory statement, he leaned forward and grasped the pup by the neck, latch firm and breath a tad musky in her ears.
Thus Dover lifted her high into the air and crossed the river once again, allowing the current to carry them a small distance downstream away from the carnage, and grunting softly until his paws found purchase once more and he could wade out. The incline was slight as it drew away from the water and into grass, and after he placed the pup down Dover shook himself wildly, droplets cascading down upon the immediate area as well as herself. But water in summer never hurt any beast. Whether the pain drawn from the gash on his leg was bad, he left no room to interpret upon his countenance.
"Safe and sound,
But you are not bound
To me," he said as he began to semi-walk, semi-limp away and with the river's direction. A meal was not on his mind just yet, not after tasting the rancid meat of that lynx. No, he needed a shaded area to attend to the accursed wound . . .
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