Wolf RPG

* He dragged the body forward, nudged it into the grave he had built. A well-aimed kick sent the warm corpse downward, and unhurriedly @Merrick covered the torn fur and splayed legs with the yielding rich dirt that fed the valley's trees.

In the hours that the bear-wolf slept the summer heat rescinded, the shadows grew long, and soon the macabre scene was obfuscated; blood that had pooled where the skulk had met its end, devoured by the dirt.

The air was too heavy. Not even the trees would twitch until morning, as the world woke to light. In the dawn the ruined bodies of foxes would be found—clustered, stripped, scattered to pieces.

In those empty moments shy of the witching hour there was a nearly imperceptible shift to the upturned earth. A rise, a fall. The sound of scratching; dirt shifting in to place while the struggle persisted.

First came a set of toes, tarnished brick red, then a snout, streaked and brackish. A smudged face with eyes sunken and laden with dust. A pale countenance shuddered to life as the soil scattered. Mouth hinged in mimicry of a scream; dirt tumbling from stained lips.

merrick slept, and dreamed of marrow, of white cracking beneath the pierce of teeth, dissolving into burgundy. the rich taste of fat and blood. the consummation of death was to dismantle one's lambs.
he had not done it for the boy, nor his father, nor indra. he did not think he could have done it for her; in the end, merrick had snapped the vultures away from her body and dashed snow across the fall-flare of her coat
he blinked awake, boyking stirring with hunger. longing for wolfbone innards, and stealing away half-muzzy to discover them.
blood slowed, ticked to ice within his veins. the single eye roved wildly over the gaping jaws that had sprouted from the tomb like an unholy flower.
merrick stared, daring not to breathe nor challengr the apparition clawing up from the grave he had put them in; coywolf, failed cryptkeeper sweating along his collarbones and thrilling down to his loins.

There was a sliver of awareness. Something idling in the back of her mind, telling her that she was not alone, but she did not heed the sensation. There were other feelings awakening across her body that served to overwhelm her in the moment: the flavor of the dirt in her mouth, for instance.

How had it gotten there? She tongued at her teeth, gathered the detritus there, spat mud. A shaking breath rattled through her.

Dirt crusted over her eyes. Her belly pinched where it folded, and she realized before she could correct her vision she had to get out of the makeshift grave within which she had slept. As she lunged forth and rose her forequarter from the soil bits and pieces fell away.

The earth moaned as it released her. It sagged in to the void where her body had been; she sagged too, unable to keep to her feet.

the earth, yawning, its throat widened and spitting the grime-caked body with its crumbles of earth back into existence. merrick's ragged ears strained atop his skull.
he did not approach; he would allow this rebirth, but the dizzy spectacle brought him low. and so the boy crouched, watched elbow over paw over slithering rawboned body as the corpse infused with newest air and stumbled ghostly and half-dead into the eyesight of the one who had come to crack her bones, splinter the ends, lick marrow from her scapulas.
scarce, mouth dry; single eye roaming over each detail he might drink.

Anastasia

Merrick

Anastasia

Merrick