Wolf RPG - it's cool

If it weren't for his current predicament, Remmy might have stopped to enjoy the territory he found himself in. He avoided the torn up and mangled western side of the field and made his way to where flowers were beginning to bud and green blades of grass were peering out from the dirt. Eyes alight with some of his old curiousity, the boy gently sniffed at the new sprouts, delighted that there was some returning normality.

But he was still undoubtedly lost and alone.

There had been a few encounters with others — who he largely tried to avoid — but none of the other Ferrettis. He knew they were by a mountain, but there were so many in this land he didn't know which one to go first. There was a ring of shorter mountains to the south, and distant peaks to the east and west. He tried to remember what the one his family were at looked like, but could only recall the quarrels and uneasiness between them. With a whine, the boy shrivelled into a heap of dark fur and loose skin over bones, almost blending into the dirt as he nervously began to nibble his paws to soothe his nerves.

It was common for the wolfdog to travel on his own. It was decidedly a passion of his to seek new landscapes and scramble for distant locations. Still, the mute always returned to his dark sibling on the coast. Seelie had always been beside him, and so no matter the yearning he felt, Oxtli found his place beside her. He felt as though his spirit were tightly bound with her own. If he should wander too far, a gentle tug would return him to the dark feather of her coat and the calming blue of her eyes. His need for nomadic travels seemed to be quenched by his short comings and goings. Already, the willow had put a good deal of distance between the lapping waves and himself.

The western side of the field was pitiful to the mongrel. His fiery optics peered at his surroundings with a glow of melancholy. He had known the land to have been ravaged by the locusts, but Amoxtli was certain that they had not done the damage to his particular end of the fields. It did not appear to be much, but it was enough to bring the Corten male to a mood of quiet sadness. It had been the scent of prey that had lured him to the field in the first place. Each step was beginning to deter him from advancing further into the terrain. A quiet breath was emitted through his nares and the sea dog paused, catching the aroma once more.

A vole darted from its hideaway in the earth and drew the attention of the wolfdog. Ears swiveled forward, Amoxtli found himself in hot pursuit. He followed the small creature as quickly as his paws would allow before the vole disappeared into the earth again. Tired and heavy of breath, he scouted the earth in search of his meal. Another vole attempted it's luck just beneath his paws, and was not as successful as the first. Oxtli clasped the creature in his mouth and looked up triumphantly. His surroundings had changed. The field was no longer painted in devastated colors. It was green and beginning to bloom. Quite suddenly, he was bewitched by his good fortune. Roaming the fields with no more than a sweeping look, something caught the halfling's gaze. A dark figure in a sea of green.

The wolfdog was wary in his approach; vole clasped in his jaws, he peered wordlessly at the inky form of the male. In a moment of concern, the mute managed a raspy whine as if to say "what has happened to you?" But of course his voice had been stolen from him, and so he waited to catch the eyes of the slumped wolf of the field.

He remained in that prone position, hunched over with his muzzle between forepaws, ears slicked back as his tail lay limp in the sparse field. If he could cry, the young Ferretti would have wept, however it was just simply a thing Remmy found he could not do, distraught as he was. He had never been able to. Instead, his emotions seemed to manifest as nervous ticks and habits.

The boy continued preening his paws until the sound of soft footfalls caught his attention, along with the fresh, tantalising scent of blood. He immediately locked onto the stranger who appeared, a lithe creature with pointed, streamlined features that Remmy had never seen before. He held the man's similarly vibrant eyes that peeked out from a dark face before his gaze quickly found the vole he held between his teeth.

His starved stomach cramped in response and, even as his mouth began to water at the sight, Remmy looked away. He heard the strange man's faint whine, though barely recognised it as concern. Instead, he kept his gaze averted, hoping to just be left alone.

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The dark stranger did not seem at all interested in the presence of the wolfdog. This was somewhat disheartening for Amoxtli, but he did not find it reason enough to turn tail and leave the creature. His bright visage held the gaze of the other male for a solid moment before the eyes were pulled away from him, and the dark stranger seemed to withdraw himself. This was the taste of melancholy, the Tervuren realized with a sad expression on his doggish face. Flagging his tail softly, the boy lowered his head a bit and scooted forward; his movements were slow so that he did not alarm the inky man, and his posture suggested that he would remain submissive if the dark creature should spring to life and find himself threatened.

Instead, the wolfdog did something unthinkable; he dropped the vole to the earth, and with a gentle little nudge, scooted the small morsel towards the stranger with a hopeful expression on his dark-masked face. The fire in his gaze burned with a strange concern that he would not have been able to voice even if he’d had the capability. Instead, he wanted to show this stranger that they needn’t feel morose. Though he could not speak words of comfort, Amoxtli could listen.

He was a selfless creature; though he had a penchant for collecting baubles and treasures that he scoped on the beach, if it would have made another happy, he would have offered them all as gifts. He would do the same with his meal. The action could very easily have been deemed foolish, but the Tervuren male would rather give what he could to see the light of another shine. While the famine had not entirely sunk in as a realization for the halfling, it was unlikely that it would have changed his decision.

Nudging the vole just a titch closer to the stranger, and with vibrant fiery eyes, Amoxtli whimpered gently and tossed his tail behind him like a gentle flag. Surely this would help.

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Silence lingered between them as Remmy stared intensely at the ground between his paws. Maybe if he ignored the other long enough, they would simply lose interest. He found his voice had left him, unable to choke out a simple word. Not that he would dare tell the other to leave him be, as much as he wanted him to — he hadn't an unkind bone in his body.

The sound of something being dropped then pushed across the dirt caused his ear to flick in that direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the odd stranger offer his meal to him. Remmy paused, before very slowly turning fully to face the other's dark face with curiousity scrawled across his features. Why on earth would he give away a meal? In the middle of a famine? He stared at the vole, stomach cramping again as the scent hit his nose. He was so hungry.

"N..." the boy went to reject, but his ears fell back as he thought on it. Was the stranger simply being nice? Was there more to this offer? Why had he been so silent? His internal debate was visible on his face via his scrunched brow, yet he leant forward to sniff cautiously at the small creature, tail giving a few half-hearted wags. Well, it smelt okay.