Wolf RPG

The trail he ambled along led from the glacier through a thick band of trees, then around to a field. On the other side of that field was more forest and so he sauntered across readily. There were scents gathered among the ferns that he disregarded — healthy, youthful, clearly canine. At this point in his life Revui did not care who he crossed paths with.

He was hungry, and the glacier did not have much life upon it to subsist upon. The forest was replete with graze lines from a resident herd of something (probably black-tailed deer, remnants of the plateau herd), and on several occasions as he traipsed between the trees he found telltale signs of rabbits and other such rodents. He did not plunge through the shadows in pursuit of anything yet; better to get the lay of the land.

Simmik often spent time on the glacier, and that had been where she was headed today after a patrol of the edge of the northern part of the territory. She trotted silently through the thinning part of the woods, inspecting scents and marking all her usual places. It didn't take her long to pick up on the scent of a stranger, clearly crossing over from the glacier and into the forest. She was immediately reminded of the two trespassers that attacked Aibreann and had been after the pups. Her jaw tightened in anger and she switched direction and sprinted deeper into the territory to find the intruder, hopefully before they caused any harm to anyone.

As she began to trail him through the trees, she realized she recognized the scent; he had trespassed here before, and that only made her fury grow. She wanted nothing more than to rip him apart for his audacity. Clearly he hadn't learned his lesson the first time—or he had and just didn't care.

A flash of grey among the green made her pick up speed. Her familiarity with the forest meant she could sprint through the underbrush without making too much noise, but she didn't much care if he was warned or not. She just wanted to sink her teeth into his dumb hide. A snarl sounded from her throat and she leaped to close the remaining distance. She aimed to throw herself into him and knock him to the ground, her teeth aiming straight for the side of his throat where they would clamp down with all the force she could apply the second they connected with flesh.

There was no time between his noticing of the white shape and the collision of teeth; it felt like a figment from his dreams had come alive and sought him out, and then there came the connection of their bodies. The woman knew the paths better than he did and she came upon him with a ferocity that left him winded. Teeth sought his throat; he felt the sting as they cut in to him, and twisted his own body to compensate as best he could. Blood gushed from the wound and Revui could not pry himself free immediately—but he twisted and snapped and threw his weight to counter-balance the force levied against himself, and there came the rending of flesh as he came away free, though not unharmed.

A streak of red gushed from his neck, a spike of adrenaline, Revui feels the world spinning and he tries to steady himself and seek a defensible position, tasting blood at the back of his throat—between his own teeth. Should've stayed on the glacier, should've told Hydra whatever she'd wanted to hear, should've—should've done a lot of things. He spits a wad of bloody saliva in to the ferns as he glares at his assailant, deterred from his desired path.

Again?

He'd been coming the opposite direction as Simmik along the borders. Perhaps they would have had a nice chat where their paths met, but not today.

Mal was not an unkind man, nor was he a violent man. He simply wanted to live a happy, quiet life here in his forest with his family. It wasn't too much to ask. Or wasn't until recently. On what had been an ordinary day, Mal's response would have been to give trespassers (adult ones, at least, he'd make exceptions for kids, as he always did) a good few chomps and if they ran, let them. The attack on Aibreann pretty much chucked that to the wayside -- but not enough that he didn't think Moonspear's attack on Cam was anything other than wrong, he'd been a kid. Now? If the stranger wasn't shrieking in apology, he wanted them dead. He wanted them dead because he wasn't the one who'd killed Aibreann's attackers, that he hadn't been able to kill the wolf that had attacked Simmik and Liliana when he'd crossed paths with him, that Donovan/Kynareth still roamed free somewhere... Kill him.

He'd ran after the scent, it had joined with Simmik's and Mal was thus late to the party, and the combination made it easy to track. He heard the sound of fighting just up ahead, speeding up and catapulting himself onto the scene and towards the stranger. Blood, too, fresh -- hopefully most of it not Simmik's as the trespasser had just pulled himself free. Mal's fur stood on end, every inch of him steeped in the aggression and dominance of a proper alpha defending his people. Mal was a hunter first and foremost, and as he dove forward to sink his teeth into a patch of hide without a speck of hesitation, it was clear that this guy was prey: prevent escape, cripple and kill. The blood was a lovely target, but so were the older scars, all a sign of weakness on a wolf outnumbered on hostile territory. While the man glowered at Simmik, Mal would be happy to take the scarred hip from him and then Mal and his beta could stop this other likely murderer from threatening the peace. Y'know, by killing him.

It was satisfying to feel her teeth tear through flesh—to feel the intruder's warm blood fill her mouth; it felt like justice for the invasion of what was supposed to be her safe place. There had been too many invasions lately, and this time she was able to do something about it. But he was strong and agile, and managed to maneuver himself free from her hold but not without worsening the injury she had dealt him. His own teeth had ripped into the flesh of her shoulder during his attempt to break free, and they tore open the skin as they slid off. 

She ignored the sting of her injury and readied herself to lunge at him again, only to be momentarily distracted by the arrival of another—Mal; he was quick to throw himself in the fight, connecting teeth with the trespassers hip. Simmik took her chance then and jumped back in, aiming for whatever part of him she reached first and planning to tear more holes in his flesh. At the very least, she wanted to keep Mal from getting injured, so she would try to deal with the teeth end while he took care of the rest.

He could not pass through this way. He knew that now, it was a law now carved in to flesh. Spinning away from one set of jaws was his only maneuver but it was flawed, placing him in line for assault from another set.

Mal grasps his hip and Revui snarls instinctively, pained by the teeth catching bone, and falters in his own retaliation - snapping air, branches, webbings of moss. He staggers and tries to bolt back the way he has come, careening through gorse, withered fernbed, bleeding bleeding bleeding.

Together they drive him back and paint the path red with vibrant ichor. It spills from so many places he has lost count and - god - Revui knows he has no choice now, he has nowhere to go. They have used the last of their supplies on him. No, Moonspear is not his aim.

Kukutux, I am sorry. He thinks fervently of her teary face, feels the warmth of blood on his skin and the adrenaline chill, the deepening cold of shock as it overruns his everything; mistake after mistake. Revui runs to escape, knowing he was as good as dead regardless.

Tear open the old wound, slow him. They were comparatively healthy, they could run him down like a deer -- because how dare these people threaten his children! His friends! His teeth sank in and the taste of blood encouraged him, proof that Mal was capable of defending all that he loved. But it was yanked from his grasp and away from Mal and Simmik. His prey started to flee.

A fleeting glance to Simmik, but he really doubted it needed a discussion or anything. He was definitely following. He wasn't going to forgive or think this was punishment enough. No no, not after what they'd tried to do to Aibreann! So he sprinted off along the bloody trail -- it was exciting in such a morbid way. He ran, urging himself forward to try and bite something -- a tail, an ankle, anything that happened to be momentarily flung back far enough that it tempted him. Whether or not he'd even stop at the borders was questionable, caught up in the moment.

She had to dodge his panicked snapping, sliding in and out between attempted bites to try and deliver more damage and earning herself a few more smaller cuts to her face anytime she didn't move quickly enough. Mal made good work of the intruder's hip, causing the struggle to become more frantic as their prey probably started to realize where this was headed. 

He managed to slip from both of their grasps though, and attempted to make a run for it. She exchanged only a brief glance with Mal. It was clear they were on the same page—the trespasser had not been punished enough. She launched herself forward, easily tracking the trail of blood across the forest floor; the scent of it fueled her need to make him pay more than he already had. It wasn't enough. She would surely follow him across the borders. She would follow him for as long as it took. 

She had no plan of stopping until she brought him down for good. There needed to be no doubt what would happen to those who ignored their boundaries and put their pack in danger.

Blood and pain, the numbing of all the loss, it was a hard reset. He went from feeling every tear to feeling nothing. Shock won out; a sharpening to his focus as he reaches for shadows, plunging through wilderness in order to find an escape route.

Can't go home, he knows that. The glacier then - it will streak with his blood - he will be easy prey if these wolves follow. Not the glacier; beyond that, somewhere, he needs help and cannot think of where to go.

His hip aches the most, burning, rioting against the rest of him. Blood is cooling on his skin; he feels so weak, so stupid. Never been anything more than a meat shield - what could Hydra have ever seen in him? He nearly wraps himself around a tree as he throws himself through the wood, then feels the bite of his claws against stone, smells the ice.

Out of the woods and struggling towards safety. Wolves hot on his heels, Revui veers in a random direction and heads across the hill, his body painted red.

Mal took some kicks for his trouble, if he stopped to look he'd probably have a bloody nose and a few other scrapes or bruises, but right now he wasn't paying attention. He still wanted the guy dead. 

While the trespasser ran with the recklessness of fear and need for survival, the hunters were more careful in their steps, and a gap eventually formed. When he bolted up the unstable slopes of the glacier, Mal slowed to a stop. That was where Matty died, give or take, and Mal wasn't keen on following his brother's steps up an unfamiliar slope in a hurry. Recipe for disaster.

It was frustrating. Again Mal wasn't able to really prove he was willing to do whatever was needed to protect his family -- the escape prevented it. Now instead of feeling like the protector, he was a failure, the crash at the end of a bad hunt. They should have been proud of running them off, but with everything that happened, Mal didn't see it that way -- Aibreann had kileld two people, and neither Mal nor Simmik had been able to end the lives of wolves who definitely deserved it and that was all he could see at the moment. A moment of silence and he looked to Simmik. We should head back, go see Aibreann. He definitely wanted to make sure Simmik was tended to, Mal's were just bruises for the most part.

She was high on adrenaline and determination, the feelings pushing her through the trees and allowing her to mostly ignore the burning of her shoulder; the wound was deep and long, and would certainly be painful after the fact, but she couldn't afford to think about that now. She only concentrated on the bloody form of the intruder ahead of them, her excitement rising as he slammed into a tree; she thought that might be there chance to take him down for good, but he recovered quickly despite his condition, fueled by his own adrenaline and self-preservation. 

She didn't stop once she hit the ice, knowing that terrain, as well. If anything, the fact that Matty had died here only fueled her bitter anger. She would have chased the trail for hours if she had her way, but the absence of Mal at her side made her skid to a halt on the ice. She stood there, panting for a few moments before making her way back, starting to limp a little as she made the decent back into the forest. Blood stained her face from her own cuts and from the injuries she had dealt the intruder. The wound on her shoulder was gaping and seeping blood down her leg, but she didn't care. All she could think was that they had failed. What if he healed up and came back? They should have followed him and finished the job, but now that she was calming a little, she knew that wouldn't have been possible. 

That knowledge didn't stop the disappointment from settling heavy in her chest as she came to stand in front of Mal. He suggested that they go see Aibreann, probably for their wounds. Yeah, okay. was all she said, clearly as unhappy about the outcome as he was. Then she waited for him to lead the way, stewing silently behind him as they walked.