the sun hangs heavy overhead, caught fast in the center of the sky. it stretches on, almost unnaturally clear and cerulean, while the stoney spires of the sunspire range reach ever skyward to grasp at it. far below, in shrouded foothills, a ram stumbles over rock, pebbles and grit sent tumbling down the sheer rockface. it has been running a while now, ever onward, and with its exhaustion comes mistakes, small slips and stumbles that tip the scales further in the favour of the creature that follows behind.
sunlight warps and bends around the rock and there is formed a wolf, sharp and inexorable as the deadening rays. long limbs carry the fire-swept over ledges and inclines, down swift descents and bounding up rockfaces. the hunter is not immune to the same tiredness that plagues the ram, but hers is measured, controlled, whereas it begins to succumb to panic.
once more does it stumble, and the hunter gains a few steps more.
The fates were whispering to him again, their voices prying at his attention. Nagging whispers in his mind that he was alone and he could afford to find his favorite plant and escape without being caught, commune with the spirits and perhaps find someone who would allow him to experience pleasures of the flesh. Jimson weed.....the damned thing had been in his every day life for so long before leaving the gypsy band that he was pretty sure his blood was made of the stuff. In fact every time he went long enough without it he became physically ill and slowly more mentally unhinged, he was absolutely certain by this point that it did have something to do with his blood and being reliant on it for some reason. Today was a better day than others, perhaps the notion he'd have it soon had placated his body for the time being. Navigating carefully up the foothills so as not to slip his gold speckled eyes focused straight ahead until there was sudden ruckus and the ram came into view it's hooves sliding on the loose rocks. At first he didn't see the wolf close on it's trails as he set to go for it himself but the flash of red fur moving in quickly had him pause and turn, watching her approach warily and then without a word backtracking and adjusting his path to try and help corral the beast back toward her, swinging his head toward her to give her questioning glances to gauge her reaction to his assistance.
the dance between the pair is interrupted, that simple balance of gaining and losing ground. the mountain sheds a shadow, slipping toward her hunt. tail straightens behind her, a warning. but otherwise, his presence at her hunt is met with neutrality. warmth, perhaps even gratitude, are spared for if and when they strike the creature down.
finding its path blocked; the ram backtracks, freezing a crucial moment. pressure builds, and then it slips left, scaling a rocking rise that rises steeply from the path it follows. adjusting, the huntress moves after it, furling and unfurling in neatly executed lunges up the rock, after the ram. her sides heave, but she shows no other sign of her growing weariness. a glance to the shadow; here lies a test, and she wonders if he will follow or abandon the hunt in face of the sharp-cutting path. above, the ram begins to slow, emitting a low bleat of fear.
the male follows, and then he overtakes. the woman's ears sweep back, for a moment angered. but it passes when he manages to grasp hold of the ram, and suddenly, violently, the balances tip all the way. she leaps nimbly to close the distance, unhindered, manages to avoid the same hooves that cut into the man.
her goal is the jugular, made finally reachable now by the male. collision, and her fangs find the throat. first, a violent tear of the soft skin and tissue there, and then again another, solid grip, driving down, toward the rock. the sheeps scream is shrill and potent, and her auds fold back as she pressures the front end of the ram ever into the rock, waiting, grimly, for life to fade.
It was her hunt and he was the assistant. Holding himself back from the desire to also lunge for the kill he watched the bright furred she wolf strike the throat quickly flinching at the death scream that surely echoed for quite some distance. Breathing in the scent of blood his mouth pooled with saliva and he thought of taking on the she wolf to bring food to Melita and Aletheia but once again held back instead backing away though his eyes remained fastened on her "Eat. It was yours. I'll take whatever you leave me" it was fair enough as he'd helped make the blow that had brought the beast down. Lowering his belly to the ground to show he'd be waiting his expression was neutral but the shifting of his ears back against his skull and the lowering of his chin to his forelegs showed deferance to the huntress. This seemed to please the she wolf though she gave suspicious glances with eyes that shot daggers his way, a warning if he dared to try and approach before she was done. After a while she finished and shot him one last glance and he gave her a nod watching her walk off before going to eat his fill, satisfied with having done one productive thing that day and leaving some to drag back to Melita and Aletheia.