There was an eerie aura that was emitted by the dank woodland territory. From the wetlands that appeared every so often, to the clatter of crows and ravens that cawed overhead, wings beating above the silence like the sound of drums. Kierkegaard seemed out of place in such darkness. His pale ashen coloration seemed to shine like a lantern in the gloom. As if it were adding to the unnerving effect of the area, an unearthly fog had settled around the bases of the trees and was surrounding the lower brush. The large male prowled forward, head low, and wary of his surroundings. He would not have been able to see another creature even if it had passed within ten feet of him.
The dark shapes of the undergrowth stood like a hazily painted stage set, flattened into two dimensions by the blank background. Like ethereal monsters, a pair of domed forms floated in the cloud-like mist – the trunks that supported them faded into the whiteness beneath. Years and years had left them overgrown and out of shape, but it was easy to suppose that it was the fog that was softening the geometry of the forms. When it lifted, it would reveal the woodland as it was intended to be; vast and dark, shrouded in mystery.
Keeping his head low to the earth, Kierkegaard paused in his steps, drawing his muzzle up just slightly to breathe in the air that surrounded him. He was not prepared to be blindsided by the appearance of another… and he knew how likely it was with the surrounding packs.
Pressing forward, that was when he saw it; a shadow that glided past him, pale in the watery light. Suddenly, he was conscious of the fur along his neck and spine as it rose upwards. His bright golden gaze seemed to linger on the figure – just out of reach – before it seemed to disappear from sight. From above, the trees clacked and branches shook with the force as a series of dark-winged birds took flight, cackling high over Kierkegaard’s head. His long ears flattened to his skull, and his lip reeled just slightly to expose his long canines. The caws from the dark birds seemed to fade into the distance, leaving the ashen male to stand in place, suddenly aware of how quickly his heart was beating.
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She had wandered towards Blackfeather Woods that day after getting bored of her almost daily runs. She had no idea yet that there was a pack here. She had never been here and figured she could look around a bit. Star noticed immediately the thick fog covering the area. As calm as she was, she was nervous about having no idea what was five feet in front of her. Everything seemed eerie and silent; it didn't help that the place was very dark. Her hackles rose in nervousness. She padded through careful to make as little sound as possible. Star looked into the fog. Was there a canine figure there? It was difficult to tell. She was afraid to call out for some reason, just the place itself made her more cautious. Everything here was so creepy.
Had the ashen brute not been so startled by the sudden flurry of crows that had taken flight from the trees, he would have probably scented the female before she had managed to get as close as she did. When he had overcome the beating of his own heart, Kierkegaard drew in a heavy breath and his brows immediately knit in a furrowed expression. Frowning, he turned his head to the side and peered into the foggy landscape that surrounded him. Nothing could be seen or heard, and he wondered if he was facing ghosts or if his mind was simply playing tricks on him. With a cold look on his face, the ashen Sairensu male tossed his head to one side and then the other before lowering his neck and keeping his head close to the earth. It was a mode of defense… it would keep him safe if there was – in fact – something in the shrouded woodland. A low rumbling growl escaped his throat, standing as a threat to anyone in the area. Just then, an unfamiliar scent wafted across his dark nose and he found himself drowning in the fog once more.
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There must in fact, be someone in front of her, she thought. Star could plainly hear a deep rumbling growl coming from the fog nearby. How should I react? I've never met anyone outside of Swiftcurrent since I joined. Then the voice kicked in. How about you growl back, bunny rabbit? You'll surely scare them to death with those puppy eyes of yours, idiot. For once the snow white wolf took the Voice's advice. She replied with a deep growl as well. As she let it fade off it echoed off the trees for a moment before fully dying away.
Suddenly, from directly in front of Kierkegaard, the growl was returned. His brows were cast forward until they formed shadows over his fiery eyes. His frown turned into a ghastly scowl, and his ears flattened entirely to his skull. He could not see the opponent through the thick fog; it made his actions limited. Taking a few lengthy steps forward, the ashen brute clicked his teeth together and shuddered. Saliva fell from his gaping jowls to the earth. Another growl erupted from his chest and throat, striking the air like a distant wave of thunder across a stormy sky. His brilliant orange-gold eyes darted to and fro in search of the opponent who had responded to his challenge. Flicking his salmon-pink tongue across his long canines, Kierke’s hackles slowly began to rise along his spine. Just then, the wolf recognized the scent of the stranger’s pack. It was the very pack where he had seen the grizzly and had gotten into a scuff with two of their wolves. He still bore the teeth marks on his hock. Paranoia settled into his mind as he thought back on this. Wondering, only to himself, if this was the same wolf who he had insulted before.
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The growl came again, harsher this time. Star could not waste time growling back and forth with this stranger. She stepped forward a bit further, but not fat enough for her to see him yet or him to see her. The figure though was now clearer, and it appeared not to be just any canine, but another wolf. She let out a snarl, which was fiercer than growl. It was a soft snarl though, a warning. "What do you want?" She asked. This was, of course, not her territory. But he had started the growling at her first. Star usually did not approach wolves in a hostile manner if they were strangers to her. But if he was gonna start growling at her than she would snarl back.
The instant that the female’s voice touched his lengthy ears, a ghoulish smirk settled on his dark features, and he cantered in the direction of her snarl without even a second of hesitation. It really was his only way of discerning where, in the fog, she was located. Had she kept her mouth shut, he would have stumbled around lost… chasing nothing more than a ghostly snarl. The talk of other wolves very rarely was a true representation of their bite. When he had stepped through the fog, his fiery gaze settling on the small form of the female, the ashen brute forced himself to suppress a throaty chuckle. Peering down at her, his large frame like a shadow over her pristine white form, Kierkegaard scowled at the strange creature. “You talk awfully big for something so small,” he snapped at her with gnashing yellow canines. For a moment, he had almost mistaken the white creature for a mere pup. Her voice was more mature, however. She was peculiar, if anything. Kierkegaard stood like a mountain over the meager figure of the she-wolf.
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Star had long ago gotten used to insults, even before she was three months old. Her cruel father had always told her she was not good enough, among other things. "Yes. I do." She stated simply. Some wolves sometimes were a bit surprised at how she did not anger easily. She did not like the way this wolf looked down on her and chuckled. She was small but very muscular. She was still strong and in her practices she was attempting to get stronger.
The large male canted his head to the side with some surprise on his features at the sound of the confidence in the small female. Kierkegaard had to expect that when you were born as small as she was, it was likely that her backbone and fearlessness was all that she had to carry her through those rough times. The Sairensu male had always been a large boy – even as a pup. He was a brute; built with the blood of his father and his father before that. Broad shoulders and long legs made him tower over most. He was a wicked thing of a creature. Still, he could not help but to be impressed by the fire in the spirit of the young white splotch on the ground before him. “You’d best be careful,” he warned in a low growl, though the threat had left his tone of voice. Even if she had urged him past the point of frustration and into anger, he never could have allowed himself to harm her.
The eerie light of the woods seemed to cast a supernatural glow about his ashen pelt. He looked like a ghost that had wandered from the undergrowth. Flicking his gaze back towards the brilliantly white creature, he breathed heavily through his nostrils and thought about moving on and leaving her to her business.
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She nodded and noticed he no longer sounded threatening. "I will." She said. She could only faintly see the ghostly effect that the light cast on his fur. She looked up. There was not a lot of light though filtering through the tress. It really was very dark here and small amounts of light here and there stood out in contrast to the darkness.
It seemed as though after their aggression had died away, the two wolves were left at a stand-still. Kierkegaard stood awkwardly, his tail twitching behind him while his eyes roamed the mist-laden forest. He was not sure what he was supposed to do about the white wolf. He opted simply to say nothing. Kierkegaard was gifted in the art of silence, after all. Shuffling his paws, the hulking ash-colored male swallowed heavily. He doubted that the white female wanted any more of his attention, and he was not particularly fond of hers. With one last glance towards the small creature, he waited a moment longer for some form of verbal remark before he would set off into the woods.
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I'm fading out here. You can post once more if you feel like it.
She could tell that it was awkward for the both of them. She didn't know what to say or whether to growl again or what. She slowly gave him a small nod that was a formal farewell to the stranger. With one last glance at his fog-blurred form, Star turned away and began to head toward the exit of the forest. She had had enough of this creepy
Blackfeather Woods.
I'll have this archived... thanks!
The brute did not return her formal head-dip. He looked down at her while she bid him a silent farewell and disappeared in the heavy fog of the wild wood. After he was certain that she was gone, the ashen male turned back in the direction he had been heading originally and continued his trek through the dank undergrowth. Only once did he think back to the pale shadow that had flitted across his path when he had begun his trek into the dark woodland. A shiver passed through his lengthy form, causing his hackles to bristle and his breath to come heavily. Pushing the thought aside, Kierkegaard disappeared into the depths of the mist, forgetting entirely about the miniscule creature he had shared his interaction with.
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