Something felt wrong.
The air from his lungs turned into coals as dread filled his surroundings, seeping in through his paws and digging into his bones. The smell of decay and death was not unusual where he stood within the Redwoods, but blood; that was not the norm for which he found himself comfortable.
"Come out," he croaked, hoping he was wrong. Praying perhaps he had smelled the scent of a recently felled deer who had been unfortunate to make the woods her home. He was, unfortunately, rarely wrong.
"Perceptive little thing, aren't you?" The voice cooed, echoing through the cold spring air as from the brushes stepped out him. Bad swallowed back the weight in his throat, ears swiveling to stand at their tallest. He had heard, once, the stories of a type of wolf both ferocious in appearance as they were large. It had seemed as a fairy tale, yet here the beast stood; a Berserker.
Big Bad was, by no means, a small wolf -- he had always stood at the tallest of his breed and benefited from the strength it offered him. While he tried to fight his vain inclinations he did feel pride in his stature. He was the image of an Alpha, full and full, and Big Bad had never once felt inferior physically.
The creature before him did not tower Big Bad, but if the stories were true his size was the norm. He was not an exception, as Big Bad might be, and that left a cold pit in Bad's stomach. Someone so entitled to such power and size inherently knew how to use it, and for the first time in ages Big Bad did not feel safe.
He knew he wasn't.
"What are you doin' in Crow lands?" Cutting to the point was an effective tactic to startle unwanted visitors, and yet the beast before Big Bad only offered a toothy grin. Blood permeated the air deeper, cutting through the scent of spring and frost. Big Bad forced himself to suppress the disgust in his stomach.
"Passing through. I'm sure you've had a visitor or two in your time since the Veil opened, yes?"
He knew about the Veil. It wasn't uncommon or unheard of for wolves to use the Redwoods as a short cut, and the pack wasn't large enough to claim the entirety of the woods as his own (although he could dream). His spine twitched, a foul taste building in his mouth.
"It's closed. I would advise you begin headin' back before you stumble somewhere you don't belong." The thin veiled threat hung between them like a dagger. The creature's eyes curled at the edges as his smile widened, mouth parting to reveal unnervingly sharp teeth. 'Make me,' the smile bore silently, and Big Bad felt his muscles tighten to do so as his heart quickened. He was alone -- perhaps that was for the best. He rather he ended up the one maimed than his slowly recovering pack.
"Dad,"
Big Bad snapped his ear to the side as a familiar and high voice echoed behind him. He hadn't heard her -- of course he hadn't; he let the wolf before him distract him. Big Bad cocked his head to the side, meeting the gaze of Red Riding Hood. She stopped at his side, settling onto her haunches as her eyes flicked towards the stranger.
"Oh don't mind me, precious. I'm on my way out," the visitor spoke lowly, stepping backwards into the brush until his form swallowed within it. Big Bad felt the pressure in his shoulders drop once the smell of blood and despair turned into a lingering memory, snapping his gaze to Red.
"Lets head back. We should send a patrol."
words: 627
