Wolf RPG

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Snow fell heavy over Moonspear in the dawn, blanketing a crouched Dragomir with a peppering of white. Despite this, he dared not move. Several feet away was a marmot, seemingly oblivious to the carnivore hunched nearby, and he was being especially careful not to startle it. Most of Dragomir's hunts ended unsuccessfully as a result of inexperience, but he really hoped to be able to bring Isilmë some food that he'd caught himself. He just had to get this kill.

Luck was on his side as he rocked his hindquarters, avoiding stepping on a twig by a mere inch; luck was on his side when he streaked from his cover and the marmot hesitated, thinking he was a mere shadow; and luck was on his side when he felt its warmth between his paws and drove his muzzle down, ending it with a tearing yank of his muscled neck. Blood splattered the snow underfoot as Dragomir gave the marmot a shake, then dropped it with a hungry whine, fighting the urge to eat it right then and there.

@Desdemona Sparring thread!
The inked dame was curious on how the wildfire adapted to the mountians, for there was no straight line to run, only a series of jagged edges to run alongside. More to hide, she supposed as it gave memory to finding a dearly departed hidden withing a crevice. Desdemona only hoped perhaps the next one she would find would be prey, a might one to share to all, but a king would not fall so easily within the hidden lines, nor' a queen. She'd have to find them herself.

Slowly did she adjust around the mountains, finding her way around with a more ease. When a whine had hit her bat-ears, she made a short haste to see what was said, and took an easy stride forth. Desdemona emerged herself to the other- recognizing them as someone she had not formally met but knew they were but a yearling. A yearling who could hunt, as she took note to the blood sprayed across the snow. He hovered over the prey, seemingly about to gnaw at it, "A good hunt," she commented.
Dragomir was oblivious to Desdemona until she spoke, startling him from his reverie. He'd been imagining the feel of bolting hot meat down his throat, fantasizing about the hearty meal that the marmot would provide, and drooling heavily all the while. Clearing his wet jowls with a sloppy lick, the boy straightened and turned abashedly to his companion.

Oh, thanks! he said, turning to face Desdemona. She was stunningly doe-like, so much so that it took him a second to confirm that she was, in fact, a wolf. Her fur was dark in an earthy kind of way, different from the deep shadows of his own, and her eyes were emerald green and might've been captivating if not for how stern and earnest they were. Dragomir made no effort to conceal his kill from her; instead, he pushed it forward, ignoring his belly's protest.

Would you care for some? A warm smile lifted his lips. I thought I smelled another, so I can always track that one down. Maybe you can help, if you'd like?
"You should enjoy your victory." She did not wish to stall him any longer of his feast, for he seemed almost famished by the look he gave to the prey. She knew Moonspear did not starve him, and was unsure why he hungered so- but nontheless, she would let him enjoy it, and perhaps another could come for her, but she was alright for now. He on the other hand, Desdemona thought he could use perhaps another to his plate.

"Alright," the dark dame nodded to the offer, securing a day of hunt. Patrolling had done most of her time here, and minor hunts, though schedule changed, she would help on a hunt.
Oh, no. This is going to the caches, Dragomir politely refused, though it was difficult to swallow down his desire to eat. Nothing beat a fresh meal, and there was no wolf more hungry than a young one fresh to adulthood, except maybe a loner who didn't have a pack to help feed them. It was tantalizing like the smell of freshly baked bread or the promise of a hot, home cooked meal, but he'd already decided this marmot was for the pack, not him. He would rather sup on a less substantial kill and give back to the mountain. If he secured a second marmot, then perhaps he would partake of that.

He spared a few minutes to dig a small hollow at the base of a tree and stuffed the carcass into it, giving it a longing stare before covering it back up with dirt. A sprinkling of urine completed his temporary storage. He would return to find it and carry it to a proper cache later. Scanning the long-limbed Desdemona with a grateful eye, the boy said, all right, let's go find that other one. I thought I smelled two by the river. This one came down here. Maybe we can catch the other one's trail there? Wasting no time, he kicked his feet into a trot that would take them to the riverbank where he first discovered their trails.
She nodded, respecting the young boys wishes. She thought of him on a positive note, as not many would keep their greed away and put their catch for the Pack. Some would at least take a few bites before doing so, but he thought otherwise despite the clear hunger Desdemona had saw from him, "You are taught well," she complimented on his respectful behavior.

Then she accompanied him, as he ran off to find the next line of prey. Desdemona was glad there was a decent watersupply around the mountains, but she supposed the ice had melted over to form these feats. When the two would get closer to where he previously tracked, she started on a low prowl, silent but quick and light on her feet through the snow. There may not be on near, but it was to start as soon as the hunt begun, "Are they over there?" She asked the boy in a low-whisper.
Thanks, he mumbled as they walked, clearly a little embarrassed. It was only good manners, he thought, but he also believed it was best to use up older meat first. It was wise to keep hunting to replenish their stores, but it wasn't an effective strategy if they kept eating the freshest kills first. Sure, they tasted the best, but they also lasted the longest and could withstand being underground for a few days.

The river was soon in sight and like Desdemona, Dragomir's lofty trot transformed into a low-slung prowl. Just because the marmot's trail went further up the mountain didn't mean it hadn't returned to the river. He padded over to where he'd first smelled the pair, careful to step cautiously across the ice in case it was thin, and was pleased to find an even fresher scent trail.

Yeah, he whispered back, smells like it went this way! He began to follow the trail downriver, shooting Desdemona an excited glance as he went.
"Lead the way, how would you like to go at them?" Desdemona whispered to her younger companion, inclining he should take incentive on their hunt. It was his after all, she was a simple tag-along to his catch. They continued toward the fresh scent, and she wasn't too sure why it ventured so far away from the river. Perhaps they were off to hunt, or maybe they too were off to find their mates. She gave a side-eye look toward Dragomir; maybe he hunted the mate. Not a pleased prey.
Dragomir didn't yet know the normal habits of his prey enough to question the marmot's behaviour; he merely followed, slipping into a kind of trance as he went. If he knew more he would know how unusual it was to find them out in wintertime, but the famine had taken its toll on all creatures, no doubt. The trail led them down the riverbank and then off into the trees. He padded along with his nose hovering just over the ground, and then came to a very abrupt stop behind some tall, leafless bushes at the sound of a whistle.

There, he mouthed, flicking his head sideways toward where the large ground squirrel was waddling between the trees. The sound had come from it, no doubt searching for its mate. Dragomir crouched low, prepared to stalk it until a good opportunity presented itself to either Desdemona or him.
She followed through to a prowl, watching the rodenr search for it's mate. It's back was turned while crying so, and Desdemona nudged Dragomir, inciting he should be the one to go get it. She hoped he would catch her silent words, while the other kept it's back turn to him. She felt he was the one to get the other, he should let the one join it's mate in rest.

The bastard also wished since he was young, to get more experience then she had- and to get what he desires. To feast, as he wished for the other in the cache, perhaps he would eat this one. He was spirited enough to have enough energy for two hunts- maybe more-so for later.
Another low whistle from the marmot was Dragomir's cue. He'd delved so far into his natural hunting instincts that he didn't look sidelong to see if Desdemona was approaching, too; he simply pounced. A second success in a single day was a little too much for a juvenile wolf to ask for, though, and this marmot was more alert than the first. Its head came up the moment his legs sweeped up into the pounce, so it evaded him with ease.

It chose to flee under him, likely hoping to give him the slip, which meant it was headed right toward Desdemona. The moment Dragomir's forepaws struck the pebbly bank, he was wheeling to give chase, but he hoped it wouldn't be necessary. With any luck, his partner would be able to snag it as it fled past her.
It ran at her, and avoided the small dragons attack. While no trade to call her own, she had confidence in hunting, as needed to for a while to survive. Being a warrior was still a task she wished to uphold, and craved to become, but while doing so, her hunting can always be improved as well, and a trade to acquire.

When it saw Desdemona, it gave a sharp turn, but she would not let it. She was quick to capture this foe, and immedietly pounced upon it like he so did moments ago. With swift movement she yanked it by its neck for a swift, and hopefully a painless death. Another meal gained, the spider lifted up the trophy and walked toward Dragomir.
The clatter of rocks scattering under his turning paws masked the muffled squeak of the marmot falling under Desdemona's weight. It wasn't until she hoisted it into the air with a sickening crack that his heart began to slow down and a grin unfurled across his gums. Nice catch, he panted, for once not succumbing to his negative self talk. The voice inside his head would often berate him for failing to catch something himself, but this time it was silent. Perhaps he was reaching a turning point.

Do you want to cache that one, too? he asked once his breathing settled closer to normal. He wouldn't protest if she did. He was hungry, of course, but not so desperately hungry that he had any desire to seize it from her. It was Desdemona's kill, and therefore, it was Desdemona's decision what happened to it.
"You should eat it." She respected his self-restraint, but as she was not hungry, Desdemona pushed the prey forward to him. His clear hunger from earlier dwelled within her thoughts,  and his eyes were full of restraint of gluttony, like he would pounce at her to fight over it. She wasn't that cold-hearted to deprive a hungry soul of their meal.

"It was your find." Though like many, perhaps his pride would be hit if she would offer. She assumed that was another reason to deny feasting, for the honor of the pack, and the hunt he did not kill. Though she was afraid to add to the list he would deny the offering, and made an excuse that he did find it, and it was his.

Perhaps the spider had a soft spot for the younger ones, for she wished them a childhood she did not have.
Dragomir was surprised, but grateful, when Desdemona offered her catch to him. There were days when he felt like he wasn't worth the efforts of others. After all, Vercingetorix had promised to earn their keep on Moonspear only to up and die before making good on that promise, leaving his children to take up the mantle in his stead. For that and other reasons, Dragomir had a hard time accepting things from others without feeling like a charity case, but he wasn't raised to be stubbornly ungrateful, so he accepted it with a softly spoken, thank you.

He would eat only what he needed to take the edge off, and would cache the rest, or offer it back to Desdemona if she was hungry, too. Once he was finished with about half of the marmot, he licked his chops and said, you're a good hunter. We should do this again sometime. Right now, all he wanted was a nap to sleep off the tension in his shoulders from stalking prey and the slow burn of exhaustion now that the adrenaline of the chase was wearing off.

Wrap here?

She wasn't aware of how most appeared at Moonspear, if they were not an Ostrega. Nor' was she someone to ptry into their details as Desdemona was blisfully unaware of the tragedies that took upon the child that led him to the mountains. She nodded at Dragomir, as he accepted the prey. If he denied it, she wasn't sure what to do then.

"You as well," young but strong, "that would be nice." While usually one of solemn and recluse, Desdemona didn't mind the companionship of others, despite the more cold-nature she showed. The woman was just hard at talking and feelings, uncomfortable by the unusual kindness she would get. Despite being to the wilds for some time, it took a while to get used to how casual they all were to her.

Another hunt for another day, would be nice.