Wolf RPG

After several days back in Swiftcurrent, Haunter's physical prowess had begun to return despite not actually trying to achieve better health. Fox encouraged him to eat and drink—more than he'd been doing for himself as of late—and he'd already regained several pounds and his fur seemed less parched. Other than her prodding, however, Haunter didn't spend much time in the company of the other Creekers like he once had.

He was perpetually worried about causing them harm, and he only trusted himself when he was with Fox. That afternoon wasn't much different, except that instead of holing himself up in the cramped, rudimentary den he had dug and waiting for Fox to arrive, he'd decided to be preemptive and find her own his own. Halfway through tracking her, he spotted a hare, and decided to catch it for her.

The chase was victorious, made even more sweeter by the fact that this was his first kill in weeks, if not months. For a while now he'd been eating only carrion, finding himself too tired or delusional to properly hunt. He was proudly traipsing for the Alpha's quarters when hunger crept over him, and the tumor stole impulse control from his range. There was nothing but bones left after several minutes, and a very guilty Haunter picked up the skeleton (where cute bits of flesh, strings of fur, and bloodstains still clung) and carried it the rest of the way.

Arriving near her den, he didn't approach it, and merely set the pile of bones down at his feet before sitting down himself. Haunter patiently waited for her to either emerge or return to her resting site, as he couldn't particularly tell if she was around or not.

Ever since Haunter had returned, Fox had spent as much of her time with him as she could manage. But like any busy, active Alpha, she had other duties to attend to. She had been prowling the borders for interlopers, making sure none like the crazed male who had approached them a week or two prior would breach their lands. But eventually, she ran into one of her other wardens, and passed the duty off to them. She was weary, made more so by the constant thought and worry for Haunter. Fox was still not convinced he was completely well, but she could only think of him as family. And family was to be protected, no matter their illnesses. He had shown improvement, and that to her solidified that he would stay. But would he?

Haunter had said from the moment he had arrived all those months ago that it was his plan to leave. Fox had held him to that, assuming that was why he had left in the first place. It was simply his nature. But to see him back here... it was strange, as if the will of her wish was enough to bring him back.

Fox made her way back to the den that she shared with Cutthroat, and once again mistook ol' one-ear for her denmate. She was quicker to realize it this time, and approached him quietly. When she was close enough to see the pile of bones, she gave him a sideways glance. “For me?” she asked, brushing his shoulder with her muzzle as she slid up beside him.

The longer he sat, the more he began to recognize things. He'd been here before; this had been his area too. Fox had been his at some point, and now he began to realize with an unfortunate and deep-rooted understanding that he had been replaced. Haunter was not as hurt by it as he would have expected. But the effects of his disease came in waves—right now it numbed him.

"Yes," he said when she finally arrived, his one ear flicking in her direction, and he regarded the small female closely, warily. "I caught it for you," he rasped, and then hesitated. "But I ate it." There was a high margin of guilt in his voice, something that alluded to the fact that he simply couldn't help himself, and he tilted his misshapen head at her. "It's the first thing I've caught all summer," he added, as if this somehow made the skeleton more valuable.

Regardless, he'd brought it to her, so that meant something.. right? If he'd had the forethought, he would've rolled his eyes at himself. "Who is he?" he rumbled abruptly, slender muzzle motioning slightly towards her den.

Fox smiled, touching the bones with her nose and remembering the Bones who was now long gone. The yearling still wondered if she would come back someday. This had been her home, after all, and Fox had never wanted to see the lass go, but she had. In a way, Cutthroat had been some kind of trade, though it was not the one she had wanted. As if he were reading her mind, Fox's ears fanned back as he spoke, and she backed away from what remained of his catch.

She had failed to mention her relationship with Cutthroat, aside from the fact that he had started out as a captive. Besides, it could hardly be called a "relationship." They were distant friends at best, although Fox had toyed with the idea of making him hers. But she did not want to claim a mate. She wanted one to claim her, and he had taken no initiative yet.

“Cutthroat sleeps here,” she replied, her tone clarifying that he did nothing more than that. “But he will leave at my command.” It was more difficult now, this choice of who would be hers when she was able to bear children. She thought again to Cutthroat's mention of love, and a similar sentiment from Scimitar. Fox had been flirting with anybody and everybody who came into her sights since Haunter had left, but he had been her protector before any of that.

Haunter didn't like her answer. It was immediately apparent in the way the fur along his nape and between his shoulder-blades began to bristle involuntarily. The black wolf, who had once seemed not to care about much at all, was suddenly riddled with very severe emotions that he couldn't seem to control all the time. Anger of all these emotions, seemed to be the most potent, however. And he found himself inexplicably angry at the faceless male who had stolen a place at Fox's densite.

"I'll make him leave when I rip off his—" he muttered petulantly, possessively, until Fox rendered him silent with a cutting glare. She wouldn't have any of her members hurt, ever the protective Alpha, and for a moment his eyes seemed darker and his lips were set in a strong, pouting line as he stared elsewhere with his one ear pinned back.

Still, he could not escape the dark veil over his thoughts. The shadowy place that caused him pain and made him crazy. "You're mine," he growled deeply, the rumble starting somewhere down in his chest and rising forth like a tidal wave of hidden strength and wrath. He didn't look at her, but let his raspy declaration hang there like a swinging pendulum. "Whether you approve or not. I'll kill for you and destroy anything seeking to take you from me."

It was the most clarity he had seen in a long while, and he felt more strongly about this than anything else currently in his life. After all, she was the entire reason he'd made his way back—even if he hadn't remembered why at first. But now he knew, now he was certain.

Haunter had always been the dramatic sort. But then again, Fox was not always the least dramatic personality on the planet, either. When he threatened Cutthroat, Fox was quickly reminded of how others had looked at the captive when he had first come here, and she was just as quick to silence him with no more than a look. The captive Tortuga had done nothing wrong. If anything, he had been rather obedient since he had gotten here, even going with Njal to attempt to chase off the wolves that now held The Sunspire.

He changed his tone, and while it was no less dramatic, she had to admit that its contents were far more appealing. She wanted to end her game right there. Forget about all her other suitors and tell them to look elsewhere for tail (if that was what they were after). But Fox could not bring herself to do it, even if Haunter had chosen her. He was still unstable, possibly sick, and she was not even sure if he would make it through the winter. No decisions needed to be made now.

She said nothing to oppose his claim, but she also refused to confirm it. In fact, she couldn't find any words to answer him, and opted to place a single lick to the earless side of his head.

“I will tell Cutthroat to make his bed elsewhere, and you may reclaim your place.”

He was satisfied with her response, if only glad that he was not burned by his advantageous snarling. He only needed to be around Fox, the headaches were only a dull roar in the background when she was around, and the fact that she wanted him around was enough to convince him that he wanted to survive again. He wanted to eat and drink and fight to be at Fox's side. She had other men in her den already! He had no choice but to up his game, and to Haunter, she was worth his pain. She was a fire-red trophy worth having.

He got to his feet and nipped her appreciatively behind the ear, before strutting off into the area surrounding her den. He carefully sniffed out the areas where Fox had squatted in urinal claim, and rubbed himself above or around the area (because peeing would mean he was equal, and he knew better) in order to make his scent prominent.

Finally, he loped like a skulking bear to the mouth of her den, and then perused and massaged his sides against the entrance for while before flopping down on his side in front of it. His skeletal chest gave a sudden and giant inhale and exhale of utter satisfaction.

Perhaps the most amusing part of this whole scenario was that Cutthroat would be gone in a few days time, so Fox would never have the need to tell him to move his bed elsewhere. Instead, the yearling leader would label him as a traitor and assume that he went back to report to Tortuga. Whatever promises of loyalty he had made to the creek would be shattered the moment Fox realized he was no longer there, and she would inform her wolves to attack him on sight. But all of this would be in the future, not now.

As Haunter crept around and made his presence more permanent here, she smiled faintly. She could not deny that having him back felt positively good. She struggled to keep her mind in the present, thinking far ahead to a time when Haunter would lead by her side and their children would run around at their feet. It was strange, this feeling, and she wondered if it was that mystical thing that others spoke of so often. She would allow herself to even think it. Infatuation was a much better word, and she settled on it just as Haunter gave his satisfactory sigh.

She stepped toward him, and then she fell into the space between is front and back legs (like a little spoon!). As she stared idly at his front paws on the ground, she wondered where these next few months would take her them.