Wolf RPG

Early evening cast itself in warm shades, though the locale was far from truly warm. More snow had found itself on top of snow that had lingered for what seemed the better portion of the month, though this go around it was light in comparison. They hadn't been dumped on good for the season yet, but Mordecai did not doubt that their time would come. In the confines of the woodland, the only thing they had seemingly gotten a break from was the wind.

Through a long shadow and sunbeam, Mordecai found himself composing his thoughts for what lied ahead. His children were scarcely half a day old at best and yet there he was, out meandering their claimed countryside. But it wasn't an aimless sort of wander either; in truth Mordecai had hoped to barter with Harlyn by finding some morsel of food that would hold her interest. Perhaps it would merit him more than just a lengthy glimpse of their children, though he could hardly blame her for driving him off. From what he had gathered, she hadn't entirely had the time of her life letting them into the world at last.

Yet somewhere midway to finding such a location, he found himself halting at a proverbial crossroad. @Luke had been through. Mordecai hadn't sought him out since his return but the urge drove him to deviate from his plan. If there was at least one wolf he felt confident in sharing news with, it would have been the one that he and Harlyn had felt comfortable sharing leadership with. But it went further than that, as the natural query as to how his friend was drove him as well. While there were questions that edged their way into his thoughts, Mordecai would not be so direct to find their answers. And perhaps little did he know of all that had transpired as well — all that occurred to him was that Luke was healing and it would do him well to seek him out.

He kept to himself. Not even his little black companion had he sought out, nor the quiet wisdom of his alpha male. The blue-nosed wolf was in a terrible place, rife with anger and irrational inclinations. He could not even be in the presence of his (once?) best friend, now. She was with her children, and even if she was not... he winced. Guilt, rage, it stabbed him, like a knife, buried to the hilt in his breast. He remained in the hollow only by some fragile string that bound him to it, keeping away from the pack.

But he was found.

He heard the crunch of paws in cold snow, and turned to see Mordecai himself approaching. There was nothing out of place about the alpha male's stature or his gait, but Luke recoiled at the sight of him. He hunched and tucked his tail, laying his ears flat as he turned his muzzle into his own shoulder, away from Mordecai, away from the beating he unreasonably expected.

His was not a lengthy search to discover his blue-nosed friend. Though admittedly, Mordecai almost did not pick up on his snowy coat in the low light; the general lack of perception his one remaining eye offered was to thank for that. It was the movement, that volume speaking recoil and pulling away into the scenery that tipped him off. Otherwise, Mordecai would have paced on much further before discovering him.

The instantaneous wave of his tail stilled at the sight midair, only completing the wave to hang limply at his hocks as he closed in the distance between them. With a modicum of sense to respect whatever personal boundaries they had came his halt, and the cant of his head turned to one of concern. "You doing okay?" he asked. It seemed a pointless question to ask when he could tell that there was something that bothered Luke. But Luke had also been bothered for longer than that, stemming far further than the injures that rested on his — and from what Mordecai could tell — healing frame.

After all, the cougar had gotten a hold of him too.

And there was the matter of their conversation leading up to that, which rested at the back of his mind.

His eyes were shut. Shut against blows that never came, his ears folded against savage snarls that never sounded. Mordecai spoke, and one eye snapped open to peer at him as he slowly turned his muzzle. There was nothing aggressive in his alpha's posture, or weaved between his syllables. There never was. Luke slackened his tension, giving himself a shake as if he could cast off some of his anxiety, but much was left with him.

"I'm healing," he murmured, his gray gaze resting on the indentations in the snow made by his own paws. It was true, he was healing - his wounds were closed, ugly, but closed, and even the larger ones bore only tiny flecks of scab now. But it was, at its heart, a deflective answer. He did not know what, if anything, Mordecai knew, and did not want to speak on it anyway.

When it came to most things, Mordecai did not hold all the cards. What ones he did have he was able to construe some sort of reasoning for any number of given situations. But this was one that he did not feel comfortable making such an assumption and rightly so, may as well have put those cards face down on some metaphorical table. He shuffled in a few steps closer to Luke as some of the tension in the air between them eased, but again did not reach out to console him as he may have another time. There was just something off that told him not to, though he could scarcely put a finger to its origins.

"That's good, I'm glad," he answered. His lips turned upward briefly, but it too was a fleeting gesture. "Guess that means you'll be back up to speed in no time, right? Seems like that oversized cat can't keep us all down for long." He tried for humor, though for all he knew it would be salt into some wound. It was for him, admittedly, but there was not much he could do about that. They couldn't turn back the clock.

Heh, yeah," he chuffed, trying but not really succeeding at partaking of his leader's humor. There was a time when he was abound with jokes, but his and his mind were closed to such things. His muzzle twitched as he commented lowly, "That cat needs to die." He believed it, but it made him all the more bitter, because he knew it was a task he could not complete. It had almost killed him once, and ruined him still. No wolf with half a brain would follow him into war against him either.

"Shardul," he spat with a tense, frustrated sigh a shake of his head.

He got a faint reaction out of his comment, which Mordecai took as a win against everything else. Whatever funk Luke was in, he was inclined to think it may have been the feline that had stolen the blue-nosed beta's joyful thunder. Anything else he was truly, blissfully ignorant of. But it was the anger that was forthcoming on the heels of such that piqued Mordecai's interest — that, and a namedrop that he had not heard before.

"Shardul?" he said, though it was more to himself. The word, or name, it carried a certain weight to it that made it seem malleable in his mouth. It was a strange name, perhaps befitting for a strange creature like the one that had assaulted them. "The cat will get what's coming to him eventually," though how or when, he couldn't have taken a guess.

Luke pinched his brows. Mordecai did not know the cat's name? Then why had it been spoken to him, like a curse, a burden for him to bear? His tail flicked with his irritation. "He wanted me to know his name before he..." his eyes were cast aside as he trailed off, and he chewed his lip as he ruminated on that moment he had been broken. He thought it was by luck he had survived and managed to drag himself home. But now it occurred to him that perhaps that cat had never meant to kill him. There was more suffering in letting him live.

"I want to kill him," he growled. "I want to take from him, just as he had taken from you, and from me." There was more to the words than Mordecai would likely catch; the blue-nosed wolf would see the cat impaled by his revenge if he could. But he knew, even in his irrational state, that he could not. Fear of the cat, the discouraging knowledge of what it was capable of, had been seared into his very soul. It was a want, a desire, that would go unsatisfied.

Unless...

The anger that radiated from Luke was more than palpable, and he felt his hackles prickle uneasily. But he could understand that anger because on some level he also had it. Yet in his life he had been more thankful to have survived and since then, so many things had come to light that changed whether or not he would have entertained the thought of vengeance. Even though he now knew that such a feline had a name, Mordecai's vengeance only went so far as not to acknowledge it.

His head bowed slightly, a sigh leaking its way out from between his lips. "That's not something you do alone," he started off, trying to find words. Words that somehow he found himself pondering whether or not he should say. "But if that cat comes near again, that will surely be what happens to it. It's a fool's errand to go after him; there's too much here to worry after." Of course, even he knew that he may as well have been speaking for himself.

The white wolf glanced up at his leader. "Yeah," he murmured with a nod of his head. He knew and he wanted Mordecai to know that he knew, even if there was temptation pricking at his toes. He could not help but wish the cat would return, but he was lanced by guilt at the thought. Despite his unbridled anger, he still cared deeply for his companions here at the hollow, for Harlyn in particular, and he could not wish for danger to come their way.

A faint smile came to him as Luke agreed, and this time it lingered for longer than it had before. There were perhaps far worse things that could have happened to them, but if nothing else at least they were still alive. At least that was the way that Mordecai found himself having to look at things, though truth be told he had not given the feline much thought beyond his own healing, and of course, when Luke had returned to them.

"I'm just glad you came back to us in one piece. We're gonna need you once you've healed up," and that he meant genuinely. Luke had been a great asset and friend to the pack they had all come together to found. Mordecai didn't intend to let him shy away so easily, if only because he felt if the roles were reversed Luke would not have deterred either.

He could only give Mordecai a faint smile and another nod of his head. He felt an intense need to be alone once more, to deal with his temptation most of all. He could feel it in his bones, his muscles, his teeth and in his toes. He wanted to meet that cat again, but he knew to do so was to seek out his own death, and he was not ready for that. If only fate could see to it that he find that cat when it was down and weak.

He would return the favor then.

"I am going to go lay down," he murmured quietly, before tipping his muzzle down to excuse himself from his alpha.

As Luke excused himself, Mordecai almost called it to a halt. His mouth opened as though to say something, but instead slowly closed as his beta rose to leave him. As though a certain weariness had embodied him, Mordecai decided that it was perhaps best to leave his news for another day, rather than add it to the stress and strain that still so evidently plagued his friend.

He lingered long enough to see him off, careful to note the way he went. Perhaps he would seek him out another day, maybe even tomorrow. Perhaps then, he would bring him something to lift his spirits ever so slightly and maybe bit by bit, recapture the mirth he had hoped to find coming back. Instead he turned his attention to his original task — finding that morsel of food that would permit him entrance back into the den, to be with Harlyn and their children.