Boartusk Heights broad-shouldered beast

@Rexxar

 

There was an illness to the air. One that aided to the rough ridge of fur that stood aggressively atop the pale ghost’s spine and shoulders. He had caught the scent of famine. The monster of a creature could not understand his own hesitation in winding his way back to the lands he had known – the lands that had housed him for a short period. Perhaps there was a lingering fear that he would not find what he was looking for.
 
Mos had vanished into thin air. His year long absence had been spent in pursuit of her, though Kierkegaard had returned alone. He knew his sister well and she was a wolf of solitude, much like himself. She would turn up eventually. She could not scorn him for not trying. But a year of searching had crafted the ashen male into a powerful beast of unkempt fur and wicked eyes. He was far more ragged and rangy than he had appeared before. Food was scarce, and while he had known the hardships of a lonely life, he had not quite been prepared for the bite of hunger that ached inside of him. It made him savage.
 
Lengthy limbs carried the ghostly male across the sharp crags that jutted before him. He had never seen these lands before. Where he stood, there seemed to be a fine view of the hinterlands below. It stretched for what seemed like ages. With a huff, he heaved himself higher onto the rocks and breathed deeply to capture the chill in the air.

There seemed not to be a corner of the world that the locusts had not touched. North, east, and now west he had confirmed to be stripped bare of greenery. The scent of large game was staling quickly, the herds moving as he was, looking for something that could sustain them. He was not yet in peril; his stomach was still quiet from his previous meal and his rugged frame was still fleshed with dense muscle.

His toes spread across the rocks as he ascended; perhaps from elevation he could see where the devastation ended and green remained. But as he climbed, he did not see what he was looking for. Instead, his gaze came to rest on another wolf; larger than he and far wilder looking, though bearing some similarities in the shade of his coat and sculpting of his frame. Rexxar paused but a moment before calling out, "hey."

By the time the scent of the other wolf had reached his nose, it was too late to attempt to slip away silently. His long ashen ears pricked forward at the sound of the other male’s voice calling out to him. Stopping in his tracks, Kierkegaard drew his golden gaze on the stranger and frowned softly. He was a soot-spattered figure; draped in a dominate shade of grey with darker markings here and there. The other male’s eyes were a crisp set of blue globes. His figure did not seem to have suffered as much as others had in the famine, which caused a pricking curiosity to settle in Kierke’s gut.
 
The ‘hey’ had gone unanswered thus far. Narrowing his brows a bit and drawing his ears forward, the Sairensu male uttered a noncommittal “humph” of a grunt at the stranger, pausing in his trek.

The wolf frowned at him. Rexxar's paws flexed across the rock as he held still, his tail sweeping side to side in slow, casual strokes. There was a lingering silence between his greeting and the wolf's reply, and he was left wanting when it came for it was no more than an unwelcoming grunt that caused the smokey wolf's ears to splay to the side as he sucked his teeth. Okay then. Such luck he had that he would come across someone so friendly.

"Sorry, you were probably hoping for a sultry lady or something to eat, huh?" He jested, lifting his ears back into place. "I was hoping there might be some greenery to spot from up here," He hummed, turning his snout to glance across the expanse below while keeping the other wolf in sight.

The stranger seemed chipper, to say the least,  though Kierkegaard did not know why. A sidelong glance from his golden optics found the other male with little more than a scowl on the Sairensu male's face and ruffled fur along his spine. He had not fully anticipated coming across another wolf in the area. It was one of the few places in the Teekon wilderness that did not reek of numerous wolf packs. Remarkable that they should not have already found it and laid claim to it. Though he has not explored the expanse of it. Perhaps he simply had not come across the pack that had marked the ends of that terrain. He didn't much care to. Already the pale beast had to manage one form of unwanted companionship. It took a moment for the golden-eyed wolf to recall the words of the stranger. 

Drawing his ears forward just slightly and furrowing his brows, Kierkegaard peered curiously at the other wolf. A frown had curled his dark leathery lips downward and had wrinkled his muzzle. "Greenery?" he echoed in a ragged baritone that struck the air with some surprising strength. Perplexed as to why the soot-dabbled stranger would be searching for greenery, the pale brute was coaxed from his shell just enough to inquire. He may have been the foolish one, and frustrated as he was. But Kierkegaard could not understand why one would scale a cliff facing in search of green life. But then, he often struggled with understanding the motives of others. 

The other wolf questioned him, perplexed that he should be looking for something green upon these heights. "Yeahh..." Rexxar drawled, lifting a brow and regarding the wolf with expectation of late onset understanding, but after a pause he clarified himself. "The locusts," he said. "I thought from up here, it might be possible to see some area they haven't been. It seems I was mistaken." His sweeps his muzzle across the expanse of land that can be seen, and all the foliage that is missing within it. That which should be green was instead washed in tones of brown and gold, the color of dead plants and bare trees.

The explanation that fell from the stranger’s lips struck with sense. Kierkegaard bobbed his head once to show that he understood. It was an intelligent tactic for the other ashen male to have taken. Had it been of any success, it may have proved to be of more worth. The ghostly creature wondered how long this other loner had been able to survive on his own. It was laborious enough to withstand the life of a recluse. It could only have been tasking to live during the famine without the support of others. “How long have you been here?” the pale brute inquired with a single quirked brow, the frown left to his dark lips.

"Not long enough to know much about the area," he answered with a nonchalant shrug. He had not strayed from the creek that had sheltered him through the waning winter, and his trip north had been cut short with the descent of the locusts. Like any wild animal might, he returned to the last place that had been secure... but unfortunately had found it just as decimated. "I think I'll stay for the rest of my life though," he said, "seeing as that might not be too long, ha," the smokey wolf shook his head. He was healthy now but he knew how quick that was likely to change.

"Yep, my plan is to not to go too far, and hope I can catch enough frogs and squirrels to keep me going. How about you?"

The stranger’s answer seemed to justify his need to scale the rocks in search of greener pastures. It was followed by a bit of jab at the idea that he wouldn’t be around much longer in the current state of things. This caused Kierkegaard to cast the male an unamused expression. It seemed as though the humor was short lived, for the royal-eyed wolf turned the subject to hunting frogs and small creatures to maintain his health. The Sairensu male nodded his head slowly and cast his golden vision back to his momentary companion. “They’ll keep you alive, that’s certain,” he remarked dryly. Then, the inquiry fell back on Kierke and his ears twitched slightly at the idea of sharing any portion of his life with this stranger. There was not much importance to it. Though, he had been the first to ask and the other had been polite enough to respond.
 
“I spent time here a year ago. I know my way around well enough, but much has changed,” the ashen male answered with a frown. Enough information to quell the need for more inquiries, he hoped. But as he turned his gaze out to the surrounding territory, the ghostly creature wondered how many others were out there in the same state; without a pack and desperate to stay alive.

Despite his humor, the achromatic wolf did not fancy the idea of scrounging for enough calories to keep him going. Grim times were ahead, he knew, but he would forge on with a level head. But no further upward would his paws go; he saw enough from their current height to know that only one option remained: to stay in the area and hold out until the lands replenish. Travelling too far would be foolish; one's energies needed to be carefully spent.

"Things are bound to get better at least," he said, though his ears twitched as he momentarily considered all the ways they could get worse first. "I wish you luck, friend," Rexxar said with a tip of his muzzle, and then he turned to leave the other male to his own endeavors as carefully picked his way back down the slopes.

There was a simple optimism in the way that the stranger spoke. Such an outlook had never once crossed Kierkegaard’s mind. Not in his years of travel. He had known those of uplifting spirit to unrelenting in their enthusiasm for what was to come. The Sairensu male knew only of reality. Kierkegaard knew that life was hard and that there couldn’t be much to change such a thing. Since birth, it was a fight to rise and simply tend to one’s own being. Wolves were creatures who thrived when thrown together. Their packs were a bond. The ghostly brute had never felt such a desire. His bond was to his body and mind. He forged makeshift oaths with a small handful of others, but he knew that if it were necessary, he would only tend to himself.
 
Drawing his ears forward, the silent ashen creature caught the parting words of his temporary companion. He would not return the wish of luck on the royal-eyed wolf. Instead, he quietly watched the other male pick his way down from their perch and disappear before setting out again on his own. He wondered for a moment how many stragglers would survive the starvation.