Firestone Hot Springs teleport massive

It grows colder with each passing day yet winter has not yet arrived. The pale she-wolf is small and weak to begin with,  even during her time as a well-fed pack wolf,  but after a few weeks of solitude her condition has plummeted.  Were it not for the density of her ivory coat,  she would have been a pitifully malnourished sight to behold.  There is still light in her eyes,  however,  and she has not yet grown too weak to travel.

Her paws bring her to an odd place... the likes of which she has never seen.  Steam billows into the chilly, gray air,  the scent of hard water permeating the vicinity,  and she finds herself in the midst of the hotsprings as she enters the warm clouds of mist. The warmth is inviting, staving off the cold; it soothes her troubled and grief-stricken mind.  Recently, the only emotions she knows are those of sadness,  of numbness, of her inability to grasp even the smallest hint of hope. She plods toward one of the pools and drops to her belly, slackened, resigned to lay here a while and forget about the death and solitude looming before and ahead of her. At the very least,  she can escape the cold.  

let me know if I should change anything

A fat raccoon dangled proudly from the male's jaws, freshly caught and still oozing blood. It was not as prized as a fox, but it was a kill all the same, and Grayday wanted to lay it at his Spiritwalker's paws. There was a jauntiness to his gait that was not usually present as he mulled over how this act might go. Would he do it in front of them all, or wait and get her on her own?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden presence of wolfscent on the breeze - sickly and feminine, at that. The smell alone woke up feelings of protectivness in the male, and he changed his trajectory just slightly to follow the waft of foreign perfume.

There was a girl at the end, tiny and frail. The leader descended upon her with a rude, twitching nose, the raccoon forgotten in wake of his investigation. There was nothing to save her from, but the protective (possessive) feelings remained, and Grayday stood (lorded) over her smaller form with a ridge of fur bristling along his spine.

Hope its ok to slide in here :)

The enchanting scent of fresh blood was enough to draw the she-wolf off of her path. Feyre's bloodlust encouraged her to ignore the oddity of the land around here, and instead focus on the aroma causing her torso to abdomen in angst. It was not any easy task to stay well fed when alone in the Teekon. Her thoughts encouraged her steadfast paws to hasten their steps.

A corpse lay at the end of her search, discarded with seemingly no care whatsoever. Feyre's head tilted to the side, her muzzle bending down to search the carcass for desease or perhaps any indication of why it had been left. Surely, no one had enough caches to merely kill for sport.

Sure enough, her curiousity was satiated when she spotted the gray pelage of another hastening away. That what when the smell hit her, the familiar scent of a stranger she once met, combined with that of a young female. With that, she too left the kill to itself and padded towards the two wolves. Feyre remembered the old man, with his overbearing attitude and all. Instantly her hackles raised at the sight of him, only to falter slightly at the sight of the young fae in the gyser.

the scent of blood is so pungent that the waif detects it despite the breeze wafting the opposite direction.  She lifts her head from where it rests between her tiny paws,  nostrils twitching hopefully. A grizzled old man approaches with a considerably sized raccoon hanging from his mouth and Spencer's stomach lurches in response.  She almost cannot stand the sight of the kill;  it causes her mouth the salivate,  her belly to grumble in pitiful longing. The man's actions,  however,  momentarily distract her,  as he barrels up to her with hackles raised,  and at first she fears attack.  Has she wandered too close to the pack she had scented earlier? 

flinching,  Spencer rolls to her side a little,  ears pinned to her skull.  Her cobalt eyes just briefly dart past him,  spying a pretty female coming upon them from the background.  It is the male,  however,  who concerns her. She is not in any state to protect herself from a strong and well fed male,  and she fears the worst. 

thank you both so much for joining :)

Though the frail woman had no way of divining this, Grayday's aggressive stance is taken up for her, and not against. But there is nothing to protect her from, and he merely ran his nose over her body, testing the scent of her breath, ears, and privates as he tried to determine whether sickness or incompetence had caused her to become so thin. Though he was no doctor, the male found himself beliving the latter.

"Come and eat," he commanded, giving her a bit of space as he turned to fetch the raccoon - only to find it in the jaws of another shewolf, overlooked somehow in his investigation of the girl. His hackles - which had calmed down as he found no traces of illness upon the woman - rose once more. "That belongs to us," he said stiffly, not quite comfortable with fighting a shewolf for a meal, but willing to do it for the sake of the frail woman, who clearly needed it more than either of them.

Ok so I may have confused you with another... But I'll just roll with that. Also, Feyre never picked up the animal, but if you like I can just act like she did then?

At a closer glance, the woman realized she mistook the male for someone else. Instantly, her fur fell flat upon her spine and her stance immediatly changed into one of remorse. Great, now she came across as an arrogant she-wolf. Backtracking seemed like a bad idea, but simply acting like she knew what she was doing would not really work either.

The coon slipped from her maw, thudding before the sickly looking female. Feyre parted her muzzle to apologize to the grayscale male, "I'm sorry...I-I thought you were someone else." Her eyes gleamed with remorse. "I suppose its been a while since I've been around others." She attempted to use sarcasm to hide her own embarrassment, but it seemed that it had been far too long since she had used wit to get herself out of a situation.

Her ivory paws, masked by mud, took a few steps backwards. It would have been a better idea for her to just take to kill and leave instead of investigating as she had. Nonetheless, here she was.

Spencer rolls back onto her belly, only now realizing that she had mistaken the man's protectiveness for aggression. Her eyes, already so large and blue, widen further in surprise. Her mind, so ravaged by negative emotions, cannot quite fathom the fact that he is being kind to her. When the larger female steps back, Spencer wastes no more time, getting to her feet and slinking towards the carcass. Her mouth waters  as the smell of blood and warm meat fills her mind with joy. 

She eyes the raccoon's belly, instincts urging her to eat the nutritious entrails - but decides against going for them. In her natal pack, leaders and the strongest individuals took the choicest morsels, and she does not want to risk angering Grayday, and losing this precious chance to eat. Thus, the slight woman tears into the thigh instead, pulling at bits of fur and skin until the meat is exposed. Blood stains her snout pink as she eats ravenously, and she is dead to the world, leaving the others to their own devices while she satisfies her terrible hunger.

Whoops, sorry about that! Gee, this thread is going well XD

The swirling mist around them cleared enough for Grayday to get a clear view of the other woman. He wasn't sure if she'd dropped it on his command, or if she'd never had it at all. Either way, she seemed far less threatening, now, and Grayday's bristling quickly subsided, though he still held himself stiffly between the two. He didn't exactly appreciate her tone, but it wasn't really his business to be putting random strangers in their place.

"I'm just me," he replied, hinting that she had no need to stay; she didn't know him, and there was hardly enough food for one wolf, let alone three. He couldn't quite make out what sort of build she had underneath all her fur - especially with the mist swill eddying aorund them - but he felt that she couldn't be quite as bad off as the pale girl.

Right? xD

The fae grimaced. Standing here is a bad idea. Her amber optics flickered over the girl now tearing into the menial amount of food placed before her. The male spoke again, but her eyes remained fixed on the poor thing as she scarfed down the animal. Feyre stepped further back, listening to her sub-conscience declare that she was most definently not wanted here. 
The words of the male sunk in and she grimaced once more. A mummered apology fell from her maw - barely a whisper in the mist. "Sorry, for both things." She spoke to the ground, unable to meet the stranger's eyes. Her paws quickly turned and the femme fled back into the brush at whence she came - her tail nearly between her legs with her guilt.

lmao... poor feyre

Raccoon meat has never tasted so delectable. Though she can count on one paw the number of times she has eaten 'coon flesh, she doesn't remember ever really enjoying it as she does now. She pays little mind to the brief exchange occuring between the others, but when the pretty woman flees the scene, she pauses and looks up without lifting her head. Poor thing. Spencer's heart briefly lurches in pity, honestly believing that the shewolf had not meant any harm. She would have offered the remainder of the kill to her - but it is not her kill to offer. Besides, the white wolf is gone, vanished into the wood.

The ghost eats her fill. Her belly reaches its capacity quickly, her stomach having shrunk in her time of famine. A brief bout of nausea overcomes her. She gags softly, then freezes in place, willing the meat to stay in her belly. Fortunately, the feeling subsides, leaving her so full she feels as though she may burst in half. 

Spencer silently and neatly cleans the excess blood and fur from her maw, leaving it stained a deep pink - even her ears bear droplets of blood. Feeling suddenly drowsy, she sits on her haunches in her delicate way and regards the man with wide blue eyes. Thank you, sir, she says quietly. You are very kind. He already let her eat his food, yet she still can't seem to grasp her good fortune.

Grayday watched the pale woman depart, his ears fanning back in discomfort. He decided he'd leave the remains of the carcass here, in case the woman came back - but his pale wolf had to eat first. He wasn't running a charity after all, was he?

Was he?

Abruptly, the male found himself warming to the idea, though he did his best to push it away. He had a family to worry about; he didn't have the time or resources to fix every wolf he came across. But his bleeding heart wouldn't let him leave well enough alone, and when the pale stranger thanked him, he could only say:

"It's a mean enough world."

But hadn't he turned that stranger away? Hadn't he added a little more to the meanness, even with that tiny gesture? Sure, she wasn't as bad off as this wolf, but... Grayday sighed, and leaned forward to lick a droplet of blood from the woman's brow. "Rest for a while. I'll wake you when I have to leave."

He shifted and laid nearby, offering his back to be sheltered against. He wasn't quite sure what to say to the other, especially with all the strange thoughts now floating around his head, and the lingering sense of guilt that hung over him for his perfectly reasonable actions. Finally, though, he remembered his manners and added, "I'm Grayday, by the way."

@Spencer You can skip Feyre from the post order since she left :)

oops apparently i switched back to past tense because idk what im doing. also, we can close this here or you can post again! up to you :3

Yes. It is.

The world, once a bright place in which she could explore her ambitions, had grown cold. It had taken her loved ones from her and chased her from her home. Spencer had little faith left in the world, and she simply drifted along within it, holding only a dim hope of survival. 

It seemed Grayday (a fitting name for the storm-furred man) had noticed the drooping of her eyelids. Her ears splayed, she faintly gazed towards the wood, which appeared quiet and peaceful. She trusted the male. He would have killed her by now if that was what he wanted, but instead, he had fed her, given her a meal possibly better suited to his own pack. After a moment's pause, she returned her gaze to him and nodded.

I would... like to rest.Just for a short while, she said. It was warm here and the mist was soothing. She flashed a bashful smile and laid down, resting her snout between her front limbs. She looked up at him. Thank you, Grayday. Her eyes disappeared behind her eyelids and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Grayday gave a tiny, noncommittal hum in response to her thanks, not quite sure if he was willing to say something like you're welcome or no problem in response. He had nothing against the shewolf herself, but these things he kept doing - feeding strays, taking in the injured... he had a family to think about. This stranger was not a part of that family.

Feeling that there would be no resolution to these thoughts tonight, he simply laid his head on his paws and listened to the quiet sound of the shewolf's breaths. Time passes, and an hour later - perhaps more - he stood and nosed the other awake.

"I've gotta go. Stay safe."

And then, with a lick on the cheek and a flick of his tail, he was gone.