Menta huffed the duck out of her mouth, pleased with herself as it thumped onto the ground. It hadn't been the most prideful of a hunt - the fowl looked pathetic as it dragged its broken left foot behind it in an effort to get back to the water and away from the wolf - but a meal was a meal. Pleh, pleh, the cream wolf thought as she licked away a stray feather from her maw. It also hadn't been the cleanest of kills with all of those feathers flying in the duck's panicked attempt of an escape.
The cream wolf hadn't been nearly as hungry now that she was a pack member again, and so she had taken a moment to choose where she wanted to feast on her prize. Water sparkled in the reflection of her yellow eyes as she sat closer yet to the lake than she had to get by chasing the slow-moving duck. Many still living quackers made their presence noisily known far away from her, perhaps distraught at their friend's demise and her swift execution, and Menta noted that perhaps it would be a generally good hunting spot if there were so many.
Tail wagging at her own accomplishment, the Ryūjin wolf turned her attention back away from the fowl on the lake to the dead one before her. Time to enjoy her catch in more than just a visual manner, she thought, as she began her miniature feast.
Hello there!
His travels had left him ragged. In the past several weeks Jagoda had grown thin and there was redness in the corners of his chartruese eyes. He hadn't anticipated the famine having touched these lands as well, but there was little to be worried about at this point, because he was already used to being hungry. He would have to find food in one way or another, so onward he went, leaving the coast for futher inland, thinking perhaps things would change.
On this day, they did. The smell of blood hit him in the face, and his body immediately reacted, the lurch in his stomach just as strong as the saliva that pooled in his jaws. He also smelled water, and, to his distaste, another wolf. In all likelihood the canine was the cause of the wonderful blood smell and he would have to fight his way to a meal. But hunger was beast of its own and now, Jagoda did not care what he had to do. As he neared the lake the sound of duck-calls rang in his ears. There were many of them, and that made him think perhaps he had more than one chance. If he had to fight his way to a meal and lost, he could hunt, or vice versa.
It was a creamy female that had made the kill. Though she looked hungry, Jagoda noticed that she was also pretty, and it pained him to think he might have to hurt her. His ears low and a frown crossing his features, the masked male approached her.
"What have you got there?" he asked, stopping short of the woman and her meal - a bloodied duck.
hallo hallo! :)
There were noises of a wolf not intending to keep himself hidden, and so Menta was well aware and on guard by the time he made himself quite visible in front of her. The cream had warily lifted her head from her now half-finished meal, not entirely pleased that her attention needed to be called away from her prize, and looked over the stranger. He wore an outfit that she had been wearing as a lone wolf until all too recently even with the slow return of prey - a frame that wanted more meat to fill it, a hunger from too much energy spent with no fruitful reward other than still being alive.
And so her brain bounced from sympathy - okay, pity, really, at this point - and annoyance at his aggressive interruption. He was much closer than she figured she would have approached a pack wolf, especially one that clearly was filling back out and in no such desperate need. Menta was much bigger than most females she had met around here even as she figured she only bordered on average back home, and while she had never needlessly thrown her weight around, she had fought her way up the family ranks just fine.
Sexist prick, undoubtedly, she thought to herself as her yellow eyes remained cool and muscles taut. He was handsome enough, she supposed, although it didn't matter much to her at the moment - perhaps for a pretty female, her tune may have changed. Chewing over her thoughts just as she had been chewing over duck bone, Menta figured it was worthwhile to throw a literal bone just to be rid of the hassle. It went against her lone wolf pride, but she was no longer the hungry lone wolf before her - if anything, her pride remained steady in the knoweldege that she was a pack wolf again who needed no such charity.
You can have the head, the Italian wolf told him before she deftly snapped the portion off of the bloody duck and chucked it to a little to his right. Her eyes never left the dark form before her, keeping patient watch over his next move, and her body was held still. The rest of this was hers.
The female had already eaten a large portion of her kill, and as he met her pretty gaze he saw a couple of things. Annoyance, for sure, but something else - pity - which he was not sure whether he liked or not. As much as he hated to be pitied, perhaps his bedraggled state would sway her to share with him. His ears lowered and lifted again and his head canted to one side. She was very still, and as he watched her he realized that she was larger than most females he had seen beforehand. In this weakened state Jagoda found himself in, he thought perhaps picking a fight with a canine who matched him in size was not the best of ideas.
When she finally spoke it was to offer him a portion. A small one, only the head and part of the neck. She quickly and skillfully snapped this part off of the carcass and tossed it to his side. His face followed the flying head until it landed beside him, and then he looked at her from the corners of his eyes, as if to say, that's it?
"Thank you," was what he said instead, and picked up the head with his jaws, moved it in front of him and set it down, where he began the task of finding any and all edible bits. He would not push her further, nor would he pick a fight. In the moments that followed, he ate and felt guilty. Little though the meat was that she spared for him, sharing showed that she had a heart, and he hated himself for thinking of hurting her (or trying to). He finished his small meal and though his belly ached for more, he knew there were other ducks in the lake.
"My name's Jagoda," he told her, licking his muzzle, the white fur there stained pinkish red for now.
SORRY sorry, I swear it's not personal - she's just a prideful twerp who doesn't recover from perceived offenses. Haha.
Menta breathed evenly, waiting for his response. He seemed to hesitate, to weigh his choices out, and the cream wolf worked hard to stifle a quiet growl. The clear choice was accept the gift - which in her mind was overly generous - or violence. A few dragged seconds passed and it seemed he made the right choice, Menta giving no acknowledgement at his pitiful "thank you" while her eyes watched him carefully as he tore at the head.
Her own portion was mostly gone, and everything she felt of value vanished quickly with only a couple more bites - perhaps he could play with the lingering bone fat when she left, but her belly was full. Jagoda, he said his name was, and it was filed away in her brain automatically. Menta had the natural talent for remembering a lot of details, and she hoped that didn't push anything actually useful out.
He smelled nothing like a pack, and she knew that if he didn't soon he would smell like no living wolf at all - but this was no pack land, and she would offer no information or invitation to follow her home even if she had the ability to make that call. You should be more careful in the future, Jagoda, Menta advised in perhaps not the most kind tone. A couple of scolding ducks seemed to echo her for emphasis from the gathering in the lake behind her. Quack, quack.
It seemed that Ryūjin called her home now, her belly full and mind unable to relax with both the pestering background noise and the bigger nuisance in front of her. But the cream wolf refused to rush, her legs moving into a slow and steady walk away from the duck bones and alongside the natural curves of the lake. The gradually increasing distance between them was more for his benefit than for hers.
No worries at all, your post is perfect. <333 Also, I'm not sure where to take this, so I hope this is okay!
There was silence as they finished eating, and then she addressed him in a tone that was not very nice at all. She told him to be more careful, and he said nothing in return. Rather, he just stared at her distastefully. His first impression of her was that of a pathetic, pretty little woman, which other than being pretty, was not congruent with her true nature. She reminded him of one of his sisters, strong-willed, unaccepting of nonsense or any behavior that she saw to be deplorable. The creamy female offered him nothing more, not even her name. This floored Jagoda more than anything else. He did not like it when others were rude to him. He rationalized himself - he had not been unkind to her, and he had not verbally threatened her.
Jagoda frowned as she turned around and began to walk away, skirting the lake. She would not just be rude to him and then leave, he decided, and forgot all about the bones she had left behind. He was deaf to the ducks that called loudly from somewhere nearby. "Wait," he spoke, his voice louder than his usual soft drawl, as he leapt after the paler wolf. "You didn't tell me your name." He caught up with her and walked quickly beside her, his chartruese eyes cast her way.
Oh, good. :) I know some people take offense at butthead wolves meaning OOC distate but I rather enjoy your writing style, and so I'm glad you didn't take it that way.
So he was a full-on idiot.
He had ignored her again generous offer of the scraps she had left behind, and Menta froze in both surprise and preparation as he quickly made his way to her. Again he was too close to her, and now she felt more cornered - although she had away forwards and backwards, she was between him and a lake, and she did not much feel like swimming. The first time had been enough of a nuisance to make this second offense barbaric in her mind.
The cream's posture was stiff and elongated as she held her head now higher, fur bristling in her offensive stance. What did I just say? she spat between teeth bared, unable and unwilling now to keep growls quiet as they rolled out of her throat. Menta remained frozen - she was not going to be the one to walk away now, and so it was back to the choices she had given him before: accept the gift (the ability to run away, this time), or violence.
I don't take offense, as you're just being true to your character. :) And that's such a wonderful compliment, thank you! I enjoy your writing as well.
indentThe woman froze, her posture swelling into one of domaninace and anger. Her snarls were numerous, her pretty teeth bared as she snapped a response, which seemed to be a rhetorical question. She was a feisty one, and Jagoda liked that. He did not return the aggression, but rather smiled, his ears held parallel with his head, giving him a rather silly expression. He took several slow, deliberate steps away from her. The masked wolf did not pay close attention to things like personal space, and while he may have been deemed an idoit to her, he truly was simple, and inconsiderate. But the threat of being attacked renewed, Jagoda suspected that perhaps allowing her some room would calm her riled little nerves.
indentYou told me to be more careful, he spoke, answering her rhetorical question literally. His tone remained soft as he addressed her again. You don't have to be angry, sweet. I just wanted to know the name that belongs to that pretty face. You were so... generous, back there... Needless to say, violence was not on his mind anymore. Now he was just having fun.
Menta watched him take a few cautious steps away from her, although her own posture did not change - her golden eyes remained wide and fixed on his face, body was held as puffed out as it could go, and paws remained planted on the mushy shore. This was all a game to him, a game that was increasingly irritating her already shot nerves, and it was becoming more apparent as he spoke in his idiotic manner.
A name, he searched after her name again. Menta narrowed her eyes now - she had no intention of giving such a thing, although it truly wouldn't mean anything to him or anyone in this region. Her name may have held some semblance of power far away from here - at least, her last name - but now all it held was the proud memories of such a time. You've been given more than enough, she threw at him, full of regret at giving him anything now.
You need to go back to where you came from now. The spoken command was matched with tensed muscles, ready to spring and chase him off if he wasn't willing to make the necessary adjustments without help. This wasn't her claimed land, but she certainly didn't see any other wolves threatening her perceived and very temporary place to make such demands.