[ wc 578 ]
There were rumors of a berserker that smelled of death and decay, and Dead Reckoning, in spite or or because of her very name, was all about that s**t.
Part of her knew she should have been wary--and that wasn't to say that the seer wasn't. She was paranoid by nature, relying on the extra pairs of eyes of those who fell under her hypnotic trance. And it wasn't as if she had lost her sense of danger either by hanging around the dead and dying more than the living, or by staying mostly by the packlands rather than venturing to even their sister packs. Both states mingled with each other in her head, one transitioning to the other, be it quickly or slowly or instantly. All of them would die one day. Things died by her tooth and claw, by curiosity and whim almost more than by necessity. Things died when she closed her eyes, letting her see the perfect hunting path for the Crows to take and bring back food. There were so, so, so many ways to perish and leave this land, and still so many more ways left to discover. And Dead Reckoning had seen, at least partially, when and how she would (might) (cannot) (will not) (must) die as well.
So to hear that a berserker reeked of it, well...How could she say no? It was perfume to her, a musk she was familiar with and loved above all else.
But her impetus to know didn't blind her. Dead Reckoning had ordered her brother, Deadlight, to stand fast nearby, letting him know where she intended to be and for how long before journeying beyond the border. And she of course knew better than to announce her morbid leanings to any other, knowing that very few understood. She didn't crave death. Far from it: the seer feared it. Sought to escape the fate that had marked her as a pup. And to fight that inevitable enemy, however illogical it was for an otherwise logical wolf, she had to know it. See it in its many forms and how to avoid it. Taste it, experience it, ask of it, devour its scraps where she found them. Her father had marked all of them with Death in their names, after all; it was perhaps the only thing that bound them beyond blood and pack.
And this was the first time she had heard of it ever manifesting as a singular entity. The rumors said it had been seen near the alpha, which made Dead Reckoning wonder: had Big Bad conversed with it, and what of? Was it someone they might know? Worse, someone they didn't? And what did this bloody visage mean as an omen, if any? For the world was beginning to shift and open up beyond even her seer's eyes. And if there was one thing Dead Reckoning didn't like, it was not knowing.
Her hunt was fruitless, and as the day waned, she knew she had to return before she went out too far. Too little information, and her visions did not trigger with something meaningful. Only the slow death of the trees around her gave her any comfort as she turned and began to trot back to Crow territory.
There was nothing found today, but perhaps tomorrow there might be. Or the next day. Or in a week. Death was inevitable, and so was Dead Reckoning once her curiosity had been piqued.
