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

Mature Content Warning

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

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

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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. She circled away from the tree, stopping in the middle of the clearing and turning back to 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.