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 Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2020 10:37 pm
 ❦
And that was just the lynchpin upon which Krokka had hinged his entire hunt.
He'd left behind the noisy mutterings of his corvid family settling down to sleep, slipping soundlessly across the forest floor; his progress was marked only by intermittent flashes of colors like pale ivory, or old bone, incongruously bright against the deepening deciduous gloom. Owls watched him, their large, dark eyes missing nothing of his motion, the contrast of his coat; skittery mice curled tighter in their holes, dreaming uncomfortably of wide-open spaces and skies filled with death, aware even as they slept of the rolling vibrations of Krokka's heavy pawsteps.
In the morning, the fog would roll in, eddying around the trunks of trees and fraying to mist wherever a creature might pass through. Tonight, though—tonight, as the sunlight faded to an ambient lavender, too dim to cast shadows—Krokka sought out different prey, safe from the raucous laughter of his admittedly well-meaning family.
Presently he paused, standing upon three legs, one paw lifted in the same manner as a man might stroke his beard in deepest thought; then his ears perked, his tail swishing with pleasure, and Krokka dove down further into a cool, mossy clearing—
... and came up again, laughing, his maw full of fireflies glowing out from behind the cage of his teeth. Krokka took a certain amount of care not to crush more of the insects as was necessary, if only to appease his memory of his nest-mother's shrieking about the waste of PERFECTLY EDIBLE fireflies!!, as loud in his ear as though she'd been perched upon his shoulder.
Still, though, Krokka tossed himself joyously into the air, spinning round with his mouth all aglow. "Krokka Eagle-killer!" he announced to himself in a rumbling snarl, trying out the new moniker in what he thought, quite incorrectly, was the safety of solitude. "Behold the Eagle-killer, and his Fangs of Fire!"«word count: 394» ⚜
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Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2020 10:05 am
Ashened laid half asleep in the hollowed-out log that he called home, breathing ever so slowly and softly. His age was starting to creep up on him and he was not sure if he had the strength to move through the night. He hated his aging body but, with a sigh, knowing that this was life and the circle it spun. With night falling upon the forest, Ashened watched the twilight sky turn colors rapidly. It seemed every time he closed his eyes the hue had shifted with the setting sun.
He had napped most of the evening hours of sunlight away and now it was time for him to get moving so that he could either find something to hunt or scavenge. He preferred to do his scourging around in the evening when all the families with pups and rogues were tucked away for the night. He found peace in the silence of the wind blowing the leaves and occasionally the hoot of owl or croak of a frog.
With his stance shifted to the mossy clearing, he kept his end low and red eyes fixated on where the noises were coming from. He loved hunting in the forest or the hallow. Many preys were smaller and easier for him to take down by himself. Not like the mountains or the deserts that surrounded.
As his ears darted toward a small noise and his eyes looked to lock on target a laughing pierced through the night.
What the hell...?
As Ashened sunk with his belly flat to the ground, he let his dark muzzle peak up and his eyes flashed to a nearby wolf that was bounding and playing in the field catching fireflies and just when his eyes caught this younger wolf, he started shouting what seemed like nonsense to Ashened.
Eagle Killer? Fangs of Fire?
With a deep and irritated snarl erupting from Ashened's muzzle, he lifted his body off the ground. He was not mad at this young pup. He seemed to be enjoying himself and Ashened remembered when he had brought his pups here to bound and play with the fireflies. Yet, this thought alone did not make his stomach growl any less. He would need to hunt soon to gain strength.
"Youngin.... making me hunt elsewhere... when I could've easily found a delicious... small snack here..." He grumbled in a low hushed tone like the ornery old wolf he was.
406 word count
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2020 2:13 am
❦ As the old wolf’s grumbling finally crackled its hoarse way across the little glade, Krokka made an inarticulate little sound in his throat, unintentionally sounding quite a bit like the corvids that had raised him from a puppy.
"Yark,” said Krokka, bringing his teeth together with a snap and hastily running his tongue along his lips, trying—and failing—to remove the faintly bioluminescent goo staining them. He sneered, involuntarily, at the taste; and with his nose twisted up on his glistening blue-green gums and his ears perked and swiveling in all directions, Krokka certainly made quite the spectacle.
In spite of his momentary ghoulish appearance, Krokka neither bared his fangs nor even lifted his tail in challenge to the elder wolf. Instead, he sneezed, sat, and grinned a bit guiltily through the glowy remnants, reaching up with a hindfoot to scratch uneasily at his ear, which did not actually itch but gave him something to concentrate on nonetheless—if Krokka was human, he might have been blushing.
"Uh," said Krokka; “um. I was just, you know … training?” He might even have pulled off the ruse, if he hadn’t sounded so clearly venturesome.
And then—he recognized the sound of an empty stomach, rumbling, and his eyes shot wide, first down to his own (reasonably plump; he’d found a spot of carrion earlier that morning, cached in a tree, and if there was one thing to be said for getting raised by ravens, you sure didn’t last long if you were picky) and then to the other’s. His head tilted, his tail thumping a time or two as he thought.
“Ah, I know!” Krokka laughed again, raucously, and leapt without warning to his feet. “I’ll get you something to eat, and then we’ll just let all of this go, won’t we? What happens in the glade stays in the glade, and all that.” His tail began to wag in earnest, and he plunged off into the undergrowth, progress marked by much exuberant crashing and, occasionally, cheerful corvid swears.«word count: 335» ⚜
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2020 6:18 pm
The first sound the youngster made towards Ashened kind of surprised him to the point where he let out a little bit of snarl. He was not sure if this wolf was trying to challenge him since this area was usually blocked by plenty of rogues wolves or even rogue partners looking to claim a spot for their own. As much as Ash did not want to fight he would not just roll over and let another wolf walk all over him. Thankfully, this wolf did not seem to be in a fighting mood, but more of a playful yet reserved mood.
Training?
This wolf seemed to have been surprised and somewhat embarrassed to be caught by him. Chuckling to himself, Ash did not seem to mind this pup getting his training in. Fireflies could be a good training exercise if given to the optimistic wolf. The wolf could work on looking out of his peripherals and attacking when spotting one glowing.
Then all of a sudden, the wolf had pounced up like something had pinched his hind end. Ash watched the wolf with a much gentler stance than before. Obviously, this wolf was not a threat to him and even seemed to be in a playful mood. As Ash just listened to the wolf talk, he tried to slip out words before the wolf bounded away.
"No, thats quite all... right..."
He was sure his last few words were lost to the night sky.
Well at least he would get some food in his stomach tonight, regardless of what the pup brought back to him. It was strange to find a wolf that was so playful and boundful of energy. With a few steps into the direction of the where the wolf had run off too, Ash wondered if the wolf would even come back. If not, it was not like he could not find his own food.
319 word count
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