Wolf RPG

Maudlin Magpie rose from the tree base she had used for shelter, appearing to coalesce from the wetland itself. Her coat, usually a stark black and white, was saturated with the sludge that was the lifeblood of the territory. She licked her lips, then curled them back as she attempted to get the awful taste from her mouth, lifted a paw to scrap along her muzzle as if that would aid her effort. When it did not, she began to move in a direction she hoped would either yield clear water, or the rest of the Corvidae.

She knew her chances of finding them would be slim. By her best guess, she had been lost for at least a half moon — too long for her family to stay and search this close to a land so rife with non-migratory packs. It was likely they believed her dead, and thus moved on long ago. With a week's head-start, if not longer, Magpie knew only luck would bring her back to her family. Truthfully, only luck would keep her alive — already, without the Corvidae to support her, the juvenile felt exposed and vulnerable.

Approaching the southern edge of the wetland, luck gave Magpie its first gift — the sludge gave way to a sprawling, cat-weed filled pond. She bowed her head to drink deeply, thankfully, and then trudged happily into the water. Playing there for a time — splashing as she gave energetic wags of her tail, and chomping the water's surface — Magpie was considerably cleaner when she finally emerged...

It wasn't terribly often that Fox dared go to the wetlands. The sticky mud clung to fur like nothing else that she had ever encountered, and she preferred the fresh, clean water of the creek to any of that. Today, however, she had been tracking down a small deer, perhaps not even a year old, that had been limping. She had chased it from the creek, playing the long game and allowing it to go wherever it pleased. Its frightened bleats were all Fox needed to keep track of it, and she had spent the better part of the afternoon following its voice.

When the ground beneath began to feel mushy and wet, she knew it would only be a matter of time before the injured creature made a wrong move and came crashing down. It held on for longer than she expected. Eventually its feet folded under its body, and it fell to the mud. Making haste, Fox leapt toward it and clasped its neck in her jaws until its breathing slowed to a stop. It wasn't much of a creature. Thin, weak, and young, but it would mean food for Tuwawi and her children.

Fox broke her grasp on the young deer, and it was only then that she looked up to see a dark wolf in the distance. Not terribly eager to share with an outsider, and yet curious about this other wolf, Fox glanced between her kill and the other wolf a few times before settling on a plan. If the other did not belong to a pack, Fox would use her to help bring more of the kill back, enticing her to stay with the creek. If not, the yearling would have no issue chasing her off.

Trotting toward her with mud clinging to every inch of her body, Fox stopped when she was roughly thirty feet away from the girl. She was young, no doubt, perhaps a bit scrawny, but looked in decent shape. No immediate signs of disease were present, and Fox found her oddly similar to Bones in that moment. Brushing the thought aside, she spoke. “You out here alone?” The kill was still far enough away that Fox didn't worry for it, but it wouldn't be difficult to pick up the smell if the girl tried hard enough.

Magpie shook the excess water from her fur, crystalline droplets flung out into the open. In the heat, the dampness was a welcome reprieve, though the sun would make quick work of that, too. Feeling multitudes better after her bath, the juvenile set to considering her next (and more pressing) issue — she had only just begun to learn how to hunt for herself, and while capable of taking down smaller prey, such small game would not sustain her for long. If she could not find the Corvidae, she would need to find shelter elsewhere.

Although she had just drank her fill, that particular thought made her mouth go dry. She had been raised to believe that outsiders were dangerous and unpredictable; they were not as forgiving to strangers as the Corvidae were. It was likely she would die if she attempted to join one of the non-migratory packs in the area, but she was certain to die if she did not. I'm not scared to die, Magpie adamantly told herself, I'm just not ready to join my ancestors. It was that thought that drove her to begin scenting out a pack, but she was not prepared for one to find her first.

As the reddish wolf approached, Magpie stiffened as every instinct told her to run; if this was a pack wolf, the pack would not be far. Without a single Corvidae alongside her, the juvenile knew she was at a distinct disadvantage. "Ancestors protect me," she whispered on inhale, posture shrinking as she realized the other had seen her and intended to approach. She moved with confidence, her ears and tail alert. Although when she stopped, it was a length away, Magpie refused to relax; her posture sank lower, her eyes diverted, and her tail dropped between her legs. She was poised to run, and would, if the situation called for it.

Her eyes focused squarely on the ground, Magpie did not notice the mud clinging to the other's coat, nor the scars or wound on her chest. If she had, and especially if she had seen the blood at the corner of the stranger's muzzle, the juvenile surely would have run. Instead, the dark female was told all she needed to know from the other female's scent; the perfume of other wolves intermingled in her own, as did the particular scent of a river. An outsider. There was another scent, fainter, and metallic. Magpie's mouth watered unwillingly.

At the female's question, Magpie gave a cautious whine. I'm not a threat.

Her posturing was enough for Fox to conclude that, yes, she was out here alone. Young, by the looks of it. Perhaps if the creek had been weaker, she would have discounted the girl and simply gone on her way. However, the way it currently stood, they had room to bring in a few of those more needy souls who might need a bit of recovery time. Haunter was proof of this, as Fox would be more wary to take him on if they didn't already have a pack full of healthy and able wolves.

“I need help taking this kill back. If you help, I’ll make sure you’re well fed. You’ll belong to the creek.” That was the trade. In exchange for being fed and being protected by the rest of the creek's residents, this little one would have to pull her weight once she was old enough to do so. Bones had proven quickly enough that even younger wolves could do as much, although Fox sometimes wondered if she had been an exception to the rule.

So, there was a kill. Her posture remained submissive, her eyes upon the earth, and she licked the saliva from her lips as subtly as she could. In another situation, Magpie might have understood the other female's offer differently. As it was, it sounded like... slavery. In exchange for the protection of a pack. She would pull her weight, regardless, but the stranger's choice of words made the whole thing sound a little more sinister to the teenager. But it was better than death. And her belly, suddenly aching with hunger, would be filled.

She remained silent for a time, unmoving. Magpie knew she could still leave, if she truly wanted to — but then what? Hope for a better offer, when all she had been expecting from the wolves of this valley was a swift, if brutal, death? It was a risk she couldn't take. She could die waiting for an offer that promised something more similar to what she had known amongst the Corvidae. This way, at least, she would be alive to return to them if she ever had the chance. And if that chance didn't come, she would still be alive.

Magpie lifted herself slightly, careful to avoid eye contact, and took a tentative step forward.

The other girl, after a long pause, took a step forward. That was an answer enough for Fox, and she headed toward the carrion assuming that the girl was on her heels. Perhaps it would have been more proper to ask her for her name, to get details on how and why she had come to be here out all alone. But those details were unimportant to Fox right here and now. She could learn them later, once they had brought back a good portion of this kill to the pack.

It took less than two minutes to trek back to the kill, and Fox shoved her nose to indicate that Magpie should help by taking one of the creature's hind legs. Fox made quick work of the most delicate entrails, scarfing them down with little regard for her new companion. The girl could eat once she did her duty. Once Fox managed to swallow her fill and her belly could hold no more, she began working on the creature's undamaged front leg, trying to pry it from the socket.

Magpie's single, careful, step was all the other needed to see. Without a word or even a motion, she was off in the other direction. The juvenile followed, every bit of her less confident than the other, but instinct told her this was her best course of action. She needed, craved social interaction — as all wolves certainly did — and the protection of a pack. She would not trust them as she trusted the Corvidae, and her standing would be dramatically less amongst them, she knew... but it was better than dead.

They reached the kill quickly, and the other indicated a haunch before immediately feasting upon its entrails. Magpie waited quietly, ignoring the ache in her belly — she would not flirt with the other's instinct and risk the tenuous offer of shelter. Only when the stranger had her fill and begin to work a front leg did the teenager follow suit. It was torture, grasping a hind leg in her jaws, tasting the ungulate's sweat and fear. She wanted nothing more than to tear flesh from bone and consume until her belly was swollen, but that would surely mean her own death.

Instead, she worked her jaw and teeth along the creature's hip socket and joint, slowly severing the tendons and muscle that attached it to the torso.

With a soft "oof," Fox was able to jerk the foreleg from its socket, and it did so with a sickening slurp of a sound. They would only be able to bring back one leg a piece, based on the size of the both of them, but Fox fully intended to let others know where the carcass lay once they returned. In fact, she had half a mind to tell this lone whelp to go back out to it if she wanted to eat. She was not quite certain how the events would transpire, but it looked as if the younger girl was working her way through the bone of the hind leg at a reasonable pace.

Fox could have left here there with the kill, but that would mean that the green-eyed-girl would have full access to it, and the yearling was wary of doing such a thing. Instead, she waited, eyes watching the girl as she went about her work. Only when (and if) she succeeded in prying the leg free would Fox instruct her to follow back to the creek's borders.

It was only several more heartbeats after the red female had come away with her prize that Magpie finished severing the muscle and tendons holding the haunch in place. With a sharp tug, the juvenile attempted to pull the joint from its socket — but her grip had been poor, and her muzzle snapped jarringly shut. Ears back from embarrassment, the little black-and-white female placed her jaws carefully, more securely around the leg and gave another hard pull; this time she was successful, and the haunch came away with a small splash of blood.

She set it on the ground, awaiting further instruction, though she licked the blood from her lips with relish. Magpie was hungry, but she had seen the punishment meted out to those who fed out of turn amongst the Corvidae — amongst outsiders, the juvenile was certain the punishment would be more severe.

With the slight movement of her head, Fox gestured for the young girl to follow and bring the leg with her. They would be slowed by the weight, but Fox did not think they would encounter anybody out this way. Few wolves used the wetlands as their hunting grounds, and the other packs lay in another direction. Glancing back only once to make sure Magpie was following her, Fox made her way toward the creek.

Once they had arrived, she would allow the girl to eat from the caches or catch something small for herself. The legs were meant for Tuwawi and her babes, and Fox would send somebody else to grab the last good leg (provided it hadn't been scavenged by somebody else already). As for Magpie, they would exchange names, and Fox would explain that she was a part of the creek now.

It would be difficult for Magpie to carry the leg alone, if only because hunts were still relatively new to her and thus she was unused to carrying such weight. At Fox's indication, she lifted the haunch in her jaws and began to follow. It strained her, and she often needed to drag it across the ground or pause to catch her breath, but she eventually made it back to the creek alongside her new leader.

Gratefully, the youth ate from the cache indicated by the red female. Although she still kept walls up and refused to speak, when the time came to exchange names, the little black-and-white female did so with a quiet whisper. When the time came to part, Magpie would search the edges of the territory for a suitable den.