Fox's Glade [m] Two Birds, no Stone

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Violence, Language, Heavy Topics throughout this entire thread

Note: Power play, injury, etc. have already been discussed OOC
Backdated to November 5

---

Grackle was on the move again. The water had guided her steps, leading her southeast through the wetland until a new wood had unfolded before her. She wouldn't be staying here long, however. It was too much like home, and the once occasional nightmares had begun to torment her every resting moment.

The sun, a mere splinter amid skeletal branches, cast a cold glow over the landscape. She retraced her steps to the makeshift den nestled beneath an old tree, a chunk of meat hanging from her jaws. Grackle's mind was elsewhere, reliving her encounter with @Bonario a few weeks prior. Her body, still marked by the altercation, still protested against the mere prospect of hunting. Fortunately, in this valley shared by multiple packs, rotting carcasses were as plentiful as the wolves who called this place home.

With the meat hidden, Grackle squeezed into the earthen den, the afternoon chill seeping into the makeshift shelter. As much as she wanted to, she would not sleep, not now. The only thing that awaited her on the other side of consciousness was the nightmare that had been set on replay every night for the past few days.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the woods, Grackle's eyelids grew heavy. Memories, both recent and long buried, flickered through her mind like ghosts, and the cold, dampness of the den offered little comfort.

--

Grackle jolted upright, her head meeting the earthen ceiling with a hiss. Her heart threatened to escape its bony cage, and she feverishly licked at her fur. "I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm alright," she murmured, tearing out mouthfuls of black strands.

A rustling disrupted the night's quiet, silencing the droning insects and nocturnal calls. Grackle paused, her ears perked, and a low growl reverberated from her throat. "Who's there?" she barked, her frantic voice cutting through the sudden silence.

He hunted her down for miles.

Roots, ripped from the ground. Grass, torn from the forest floor with raking nails. His prints, beat into the soil from slamming paws. Heavy, heavy, heavy. Mud, running up his legs, and he followed her tracks until dawn brought night. Her scent was slathered on his lungs, in his nose. He could smell her. Hour by agonizing hour, minute by torturous minute, second by excruciating second, he closed the gap. Closer. Closer. A notion echoed in his body, a litany of both desperation and impending retribution. Rage boiled into his chest. Closer, closer, preying. Predator.

Relentless.

Eyes that stung tirelessly, burned as his breath ran heavy from his chest with a dropped jaw. His chin threatened to burrow into his fur as his muscles hit harder, harder, harder on the ground with every step he demanded hit the ground. Erratic breathing, until he could hear it from himself. Gone. Gone. Gone. A guttural lamentation.

His teeth bore from his mouth, his tongue dry, his mouth felt ready to decay. They gnashed, grinding together until he felt grit. He was gone.

“WHERE ARE YOU?!”

An anguished cry, a roar torn from the depths of his soul, reverberated through the landscape. Aroma, her aroma—the thick, suffocating fragrance of roses that coated her body—consumed his thoughts, trapped inside his head like a relentless tormenter. Those fields of roses that, he knew them. He’d find her. She was here. She couldn’t lie. She could not hide. He would find her.

He would find her.

Sharp turns, made precisely, undeniably, zeroing to her until there was no need to follow her path. He’d cut corners. He did. Her direction, he knew exactly, he knew where, his coat beat deadly in the wind until the dark rose woman was given no choice.

And from behind, with extended legs, he lunged down at the ground, turning fast towards the tunnel. Fitting his muzzle inside of it, he barked, barked, saliva clicking from his teeth while they clacked together. He dug for skin. Skin to drag her, and rip her out by force.

The sigh of relief at the familiar scent was ripped away as quickly as it had manifested on her lips. Muscles that had begun to relax moved on their own, throwing Grackle to the back wall of the den with an earsplitting scream as frenzied teeth gripped at her scruff. Bonnie? It was a yell, an exclamation as much as a question, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Confusion. Fear. Friend? Foe?

Stop! Bonnie!

Im so sorry grackle!! D;

Ferally, he snapped until he caught fur and tried to drag her by the scruff of her neck. She screamed. She screamed. It grated his ears! God, it grated his ears! He stopped, pulling his head back. Heavy breaths, haunted. Shaking, trembling, his legs cramped and loosened. Extending his mouth open--

"COME OUT!" a grief-stricken beg, his voice cracked and rasping. From his core, he hurt, he felt everything at once. Pained. He would do anything for her to come out. He trembled and waited, tethered hurt.

Slowly, slowly, whale-eyed and ridged, Grackle emerged from the den, ears low and tail tucked. A pang struck through her chest- he looked awful. What in the gods' names had happened to him?

Ears perked to the whine in his voice, green irises traveled over the tense posture to come to rest on oak eyes, desperate and imploring. There would be time to ask later.

Ask before you bite, dickhead, she breathed, circling away from the tree and stopping in the middle of the clearing to turn back and face him.

Be careful of my leg, alright? I fucked it up last time. Don't forget your ears, Her voice was soft as she lowered herself into a crouch.

I'm ready.

Nothing was clear. His own breath was baited out, only to be crushed again, again, and again. Staggered and unkempt, he stood a chained dog, now a shell of a man in a home he'd never taken the decency to claim before. Before he knew it, before he could have it, before he had cherished it, and yes, when he knew he had broken it, it was gone. Gone again, and to every cruel joke that was played upon him, and for as many as he had raked others through, there could not have been one more sick now. Now that he couldn't see, both ahead of him and behind him, he was blinded and lost beyond recognition to an empire of found. So many had been found, and why hadn't he? Why had others, who did not yet deserve to be, and why did it take others when it was far too soon. It was too soon.

It brought him to here, to now, outside of this woman's doorstep, trembling and bitter. Angry. So, so very angry.

This was also the way in which things worked, and the part in which he was supposed to play. "COME OUT!" wailed again, until his voice gave out, and fuck, he could've been rabid. Felt rabid. Beaten, battered. and still standing, asking for more again. Bonnie would until it killed him.

"I'm not going to go give out this time, you hear?!" It was hard to swallow. He wasn't looking at her. Spoken as if blades were driving through his chest. The notches in his ears were scabbed, having been reopened and torn through every week.  "I'm not in the best of shape, either. So, when I come at you,-" His chest. His breath. It all hurt. "You better not dare hold back on me!"

When he tumbled towards her again, it was like a missile. The first time, he had been messy. This time, first punches came in strong, and his teeth fired at her nape. He'd collide if he needed to, mindlessly. This was not the Bonnie she had met before.

Wouldn't dream of it. Grackle's voice was a low growl, filled with a mix of challenge and dark amusement as she readied herself for what was to come. The viper sidestepped his attack with the grace of a flowing stream, her body moving like a shadow in the night. She managed to evade the brunt of his assault, but his shoulder collided heavily with hers. Razor sharp teeth missed her scruff and grazed her flank, sending a searing slice of pain through her body as warm crimson bubbled forth, matting her oil-slick coat.

The coppery tang of blood sharp in her nostrils, Grackle retaliated with fierce precision, gritting her teeth against the pain. She lunged forward, her jaws clamping down on his shoulder with a vicious snap. The taste of fur and flesh filled her mouth, the resistance of muscle and sinew beneath her teeth a testament to his strength. If he wouldn't hold back, neither would she. Only the weariness in her body kept her from breaking her own teeth crunching through his bone.

Leaping back, her adder-like gaze never wavered from her target. She attuned herself to every heaving breath, every twitching muscle of her opponent. The clearing filled with the sounds of their panting breaths and the rustle of leaves underfoot, punctuated by the distant call of an owl.

If you lose your head, you'll also lose the fight. Focus up, Bonnie! she barked. There was no anger in her tone, only instruction and steely determination.

Grackle braced herself for his next onslaught, every sense heightened. She could hear the thudding rhythm of her own heartbeat, feel the cool night air against her heated skin, and smell the heavy sweat against the pine and decaying leaves.

She would meet his next charge head-on, colliding with bone-jarring force as teeth snapped shut on empty air with an audible crack! With a growl, Grackle spun around, using her momentum to aim a powerful swipe at Bonnie's head.

Grackle's muscles screamed in protest, still inflamed from their last clash, and her vision blurred at the edges, but she refused to give in. She lunged again, her movement already growing sluggish.

Bearish, he became. Hurdling to hurt her, to maim her, whatever he then deemed was enough blood splattered over his tongue, she moved. His shoulder was crushed with pain that rendered him that much more alive, dead, and in a heated, reckless wrath, he spun to rip into her back. Dark spine met with snapping teeth, she would have to tear at her own flesh to get him off.

Whatever went through his mind was empty, vicious, and despite his efforts to keep her still, she continued to barrel into his shoulder. Ripped away from him, and how dare she move from him. How dare she to speak to him now, when he could hear nothing of it. If he did hear anything of it, now as he had sprinted towards her in a rush, it would've been as he tumbled to the ground after jumping high enough to get a vantage point. Enough that, if he wanted to fall down on her neck, he would. He did.

She met him head on, and he fell rough. Even quicker, he was up, launching for her chest, her chin, and if he needed to grab her face by the ends of his teeth, he would. Blood upon his head, because she continued to hit it, and he bit through it again. Careless, charging again, again, and more. Nasty snarls from his beaten throat, and soon lunges were not enough for Bonnie.

As if being hit and torn into by claw was not enough, he desired to be closer, meeting up with her flank and taking her to the ground. He had been here before, as if he had practiced it once, and he would again. Ripping, tearing away at fur, and getting angrier, angrier, angrier, waiting for her to fight against her leg while he snapped pointedly at her side. Little did he try to evade her teeth, her own retaliation, her own nails. Fixated, focused only on attacking. Attacking. Bleed. Bleed. Bleed.

It had been months since Grackle had savored a proper meal, months since she’d experienced the luxury of a full night’s sleep. Her body was running on empty; their last clash had drained her reserves, leaving her desperately trying to pour water from a pail that she refused to admit was bone-dry. Her once-powerful frame now felt like a ghost of its former self, tearing apart at the seams.

As they fought, Bonnie's relentless assault shredded her, ripping great clumps of fur from her back. Each savage yank sent fire coursing through her veins; scabbed wounds reopening with a sickening pop. She couldn’t stifle the cry of agony that escaped her throat. She circled him, breath misting in the frigid night air, desperate to buy time, to scrape together whatever strength she had left.

Bonnie's head crashed into her chin, and she bit down hard on her tongue. Blood filled her mouth, pain shooting through her like lightning, dazing her. Speech was impossible now—pink-tinged saliva foamed at the corners of her mouth, splattering across Bonnie as she clung to any semblance of control.

Grackle was slammed to the ground with vicious force. Her head felt like it was splitting open, history repeating itself as she found herself prone beneath snapping teeth once more. She tried to speak, but only rough, choking coughs emerged. Floundering on the edge of her endurance, she grasped and pummeled with her hind legs, her vision swimming and darkening at the edges, then growing darker still. The world around her began to fade, her limbs turning to ice, her strength draining away like water through a sieve. Grackle's blows grew weaker, her legs a twitching heap beneath the man. Her once fierce green eyes dulled until she could no longer see.

In her final moments of consciousness, she felt a strange sense of calm, a fleeting clarity amidst the chaos. She had fought with everything she had, against the odds, against the pain. And as darkness enveloped her, she could only hope that Bonnie would realize that this time, she had not stopped of her own accord.