first of all, i'd like to apologize to everyone at LCH for reeking more havoc. secondly, i'd like to tag
@Shardul Stop it.
Stop fighting it just go.
The troubles of the small woman dragged her once again to the borders of her beloved home, one that had become hell. Her body bore the scars of her past and her mind had relived those scars in the present, tearing them open and leaking paranoia into her sane thoughts. She had grown afraid of the alpha that she loved and respected so much. He had a mate and pups and she now acted like loyalty meant nothing to him. Like he would target her.
It sounds silly to think sure, but Luke had forced her to the snow and held her. He had almost taken something from her and she would have never forgiven him. She still wouldn't forgive him for it. This was not the way of a civilized pack; it was rarely even the way of the wild wolves (to her, anyway).
Regardless, she still knew that she needed to stay. Mordecai was simply to be watched. Lagon would be watched. Even the fluffy goober of a half-breed that she met on the border would need to be watched. She made a commitment to the pack that she needed to fulfill. She needed to pull her weight. She owed them a lot, regardless of the stress that they had caused her- it was not entirely their fault.
But the part that wasn't their fault, belonged to the unclaimed territory that lied beyond their borders. The wild world had claimed the mental stability of more than one wolf in the Hollow, and Ilya knew this. But she needed herbs. She'd promised Harlyn to help her with her stash, and in return Harlyn offered to teach her of the plants. She needed to help the pack, she needed to grow a pair and do what she needs to do for the pack.
So she did.
She forced herself past the brick wall of the pee-marked border and trudged on, heading out of the territory towards the overtured downs. She was on the look out for anything, really, to fill the cache. When she arrived, she found only dandelions, weedy and sheltered by a thick bushel of brambles. She stuck her nose underneath, using her muzzle to dig the roots from the ground. She was focused and forgetful of the world around her. It was peaceful and she was at ease, doing something she loved.
Her sanity was, perhaps, all too soon.
he had failed to slay the woman upon the beach, and had fled a pack of wolves. shardul's confidence in himself had been greatly shaken. it was time that he gathered himself and returned unto the scene of his last success. two wolves had he bloodied at the hollow; shardul truly did not know if they had lived or died. but his path was clear, his steps precise - the silver cat at dusk arrived near the packlands, but at the edge of a meadow where the thick stench of the hollow wolves had been lain.
while he was aware of his visibility, and would have not entered the lowlands normally, the sight of a dark figure moving among the reeds caught his murderous eye. an agouti jackal he had maimed; a wolf the colour of snow. he did not recall that he had ever caught a wolf of this charcoal hue.
for some time the cat watched her with the pointed interest known only unto his species. the fool had started to dig, overturning the small roots of bitter flowers with her muzzle.
shardul, overcome with the crushing weight of his unsated needs, flattened himself against the earth and began to stalk the senseless creature.
Senseless indeed. While extremely good at maintaining focus, Ilya lacked the ability to spread her senses and be aware of what was around her. She was wonderful and making sure she got all of the herbs (with roots!) from the ground, but all the same did she forget to pay attention to the surrounding land; the nearby cat, specifically.
She scraped them from underneath, piling them neatly before her and sniffing them curiously. Her nose wrinkled. Definitely Dandelions, she'd never quite liked the vague scent that it gave off. Feeling confident in her small gathering, she set off to look for more, scooping them up carefully and holding them gently by the stems. She sniffed around curiously, but could smell nothing other than the dandelions. Unaware still of her surroundings, she used her eyes instead to find more. They remained glued to the ground. Unless someone spoke loudly or made any noises, she was already a cornered mouse for the hunter.
like a mouse or a rabbit she scraped up her plants and collected them; shardul hated her for it. not even like a wolf did she act, which made the vulnerability of her turned back all the more poignant. the cat had come within thirty paces of her now; he gathered his legs beneath him for the lunge. his mind was empty save for the heartbeat of his own body thudding in his ears; his maddened thoughts had calmed themselves in anticipation.
at once! he leapt! he leapt into the raking gait that propelled him directly at her. surely the wolf would hear him bearing down upon her, as the grass tore across his shoulders, his flanks, as the earth was ripped up into small clumps by his paws. surely she would see, and he would watch terror fill her eyes as he descended upon her.
The woman was preoccupied and stupid, to say the least. She had been born to captivity and then sheltered in a pack where she had nothing to do but find interest in the strangest of things. She had learned to stay silent and hopeless, but still sat and drew in the dirt of the den for as long as she could remember, all day in fact. She had tuned out the world and was only taken back to reality when it was forced upon her. She didn't know any better. Sleeping with one eye open was a concept she was not familiar with, and for this she would always be labeled as a fool.
But she heard the claws against the soil and her pelt began to prick with unease. Her concentration was shattered and she now found her head turning slowly, ears flattened against her head. Another noise had made itself known at the same time, a swishing sound, almost. She'd soon discovered it was her worst fear; Shardul.
Her yelp was loud and fearful, and her eyes were the size of lakes, pooling over with fright. Her first instinct was to bite, she had no time to run she knew this. So as claws raked against the sides of her neck and shoulders, she aimed to sink her teeth into his chest. Pain radiated throughout her body and it was more than she had ever endured in her life. The pain itself was nauseating, and she had to fight to keep conscious. She just hoped she'd put up some sort of fight, but at this point, she doubted it.
the blood of the wolf filled his jaws, spilled from his lips; shardul tore his mouth away only to draw a shuddering breath when his reserves had run out. she writhed beneath him, and the great cat felt the familiar sensuality rising in his body. settling his weight more firmly upon the woman, the man purred strangely and with some level of contentment, unmoved by her cries.
her teeth had buried themselves in his flesh, but he had grown numb to her jaws as they lacerated the skin there, and presently he grit his teeth and brought his broad square muzzle down unto her ear.
"thou shalt pay for that," shardul whispered, rasping his tongue in a macabre parody of a loving kiss along her forehead, before he took her ear into jaws and crushed it until she screamed.
It was majestic the way he moved. Had someone been watching them they most certainly would have been mesmerized in his movements. If her flesh was not so alive with pain, she may have even saw the beauty of it. Her teeth had connected to his chest and with a small bit of confidence she found herself struggling a little harder. It was no use, the small, stupid wolf had been too weak to overcome such a large creature and was almost crushed beneath his weight alone; he somehow had shifted it evenly among himself just right. Ilya could tell, it was the sport he enjoyed far more than the actual killing.
He spoke, and while his medieval voice she found quite suiting for his appearance, there was no time to think such things. Her ear shatter, if such a thing was even possible, the veins and skin and cartilage were mangled into a bloody mess inside his mouth and she had nothing to do but wail and struggle. In her struggles (most of which were only head jerks) she tore her head free of his jaws, what was left of her ear dangling bloodily from his grasp. A long whine followed as she found that this actually hurt far worse. But she couldn't find the fear in her to coward anymore. She had decided she was dead, by now, and so in a last spurt of courage she let out a growl.
"I regret nothing," she spat at him, her saliva bloodied from her own attempt at a fight back.
he admired her strength, the passion with which she fought him -- it would make for a slower death. shardul grinned as she tore aside, clucking his barbed tongue mockingly as blood from her snarling jaws spattered upon his face -- his own blood. her wails of torment, wrung unwillingly from the recesses of her chest -- they would be as a boon to him.
but his baser desires overrode his want to torture the wolf slowly; shardul dipped his muzzle and took her throat betwixt his jaws, beginning a python's squeeze 'round her windpipe.
She struggled and cried out for help, but no one appeared to be coming. The girl no longer had any advantages (as if she'd started with any) and was now simply hanging on by a thread for her will to live. It was then that his grip moved to her throat and, slowly, tightened around her. She wailed for as long as she could manage, but soon her cries came as wheezes as she struggled to let any air out.
Something felt wrong. It was painful, sure, but it was a pain that she'd never felt before; something worse than his claws and worse than his teeth. It was crushing, suffocating, and oddly numbing. She felt her will to struggle stop and although she felt like she was trying to scream for help she was silent. Blood bubbled from her throat, however, and she was woozy with confusion. The shock and numbness wore off quickly, and pain erupted from her neck and throat. Ilya went limp, her body unable to handle the amount of conscious pain she felt. What Shardul did with her now was his decision, but she moved no more.
last post for me!
the woman soon grew still and silent in his grasp, and summarily shardul removed his jaws from 'round her throat. letting her head slump loosely to the earth, the cat peered at her, annoyance flickering in his eyes. such things only remained diverting when there was fight left in his prey, and there was a dearth of that in this wretched creature.
"fool," shardul hissed into her unhearing ear, before he turned aside and departed the scene. if she had not already died, she was upon the dark threshhold, and therefore she posed no threat.
She did not hear his mocking, or his hiss. She did not hear anything, and if she had it was the blood pumping through her veins. Her body fell from his grasp and fell to the snow, staining it's pure color into a deep red. Just beyond her lied the herbs she originally traveled here to find; and with them, the remaining shred of her pride.