Wolf RPG

There was blood in the air.

It was strong enough to make his belly rumble and not enough to make an obvious trail, as he soon discovered. It did not help that he was hunting in the dark—going by scent as much as was possible, rather than sight—which made everything monumentally more challenging. Rosenskärm hoped madly that his silent prayers to the stars would cause a shift of some kind: that they might summon a mighty wind to blow the clouds away, or shine brighter themselves so that he could function better.

These terrestrial matters, while important, were not his forte. It had been days since he'd eaten. Many nights spent wandering with his eyes heavenward rather than ahead of him, which was why he had become so turned around in this place. If he could at least get a warm meal in his belly, he could try to sleep through the night feeling a little more whole.

Flicking his tongue across one deep green leaf, he could at least surmise that something wounded had passed through here recently—but in which direction?

Reyson had scented the wounded beast and had followed. He tried not to travel far from Mereo in case he was needed, but he couldn't pass up the chance for fresh game to fill their caches. Or if need be put something out of it's misery.

It was a cloudy, moonless night and Rey hated it. It was with surprise and trepidation he came upon another. He growled quietly and stayed away until he could determine foe or not.

Reyson spoke deep voice curling. You hunt the wounded thing too?

Night is peaceful. It is eerie to some people too, with the absence of activity, but this lack is one of the aspects that draws Rosenskärm; aside from the brilliance of the cosmos and the whispering of stars, he likes the quiet clandestine nature of things. He has lived a nearly-nocturnal lifestyle for many months now and so, when the stranger comes crawling from among the trees towards him, he is alert to it.

When the stranger's deep voice fades from the woods Rosenskärm relishes the ensuing silence. It goes on a touch too long; but he studies the stranger, finds that even from a distance there is a weight to their scent. A layered quality. Male, female, young, old.

This wolf is from somewhere settled.

Skärm clues in finally.

Ja, mn, I am interest in jager—you say, hunt? In hunt, yes.

Perhaps in the daylight this stranger is something fine to behold, donning sungold furs and everything. In the dark they are a muddy brown with faded lines across their face; nothing much to look at.

Nighttime is peaceful, but also harbors many secrets. Reyson had been one of those secrets for years. Had gone into places silent, deadly. Nighttime didn't bother him like it did others. If you looked close enough, there was more than enough activity in the boughs of shadows. 

He lifted his head and sniffed, this wolf smelled alone. There was a tension in the air. 

Reyson is not a talkative, wolf. Much preferring short, stilted sentences. Cutting them off, before he said more than he meant too or should. He shifted in the darkness, moved forward a touch, and dipped his muzzle down.

"I'll help."

Without waiting for an answer or even to see if the wolf was following, Reyson veered towards the way he had been going, nose down. Tongue tasting the air, they would find this wounded beast and the other wolf would eat it, or they would share it. It depended on the size.

The man before him was a stranger. Had Skärm more sense in his short years he might have been more suspicious, especially given the late hour. Instead he let his inhibition slide away and welcomed the help.

No doubt this man knew the area more than he did. Perhaps he lived nearby? Whatever the case, the stargazer put aside any worries and moved to follow him.

Their hunt was destined to be successful! He had to trust that two bodies were better than one, even strangers in the dark.

Once upon a time Rey had been more wary of strangers. Now, though he wasn't, because he knew if it came down to it, he could fight and kill to save himself. He had been able to take care of himself for years now.

Rey bent to the task and smiled at the scent on the wind. It was definitely a larger prey animal, perhaps a fawn had gotten hurt and ran from it's mother. It was with those thoughts in his mind, that he leaned forward and began to stalk.

Whether luck was on their side or not they would wait and see. They couldn't see anything, but Rey followed the scent well, his night vision kicking in. It was with practiced ease he caught sight of the body huddled in the ground. He lowered himself further to the ground, maw dripping. 

He turned and motioned his head at the fawn and the other wolf.

It took effort for the boy to follow in the dark. He did his best, even if that meant pausing to survey the shadows more often than his companion, or causing a gap between their bodies because he lagged so far behind. Thankfully the stranger moved with caution as he came upon a target and that allowed Skarm to catch up, his steps fleeting and not always quiet.

He stopped abruptly when the man motioned forward with his snout. Looking first ahead directly, then to one side, then another, Skarm tried to spy upon what had been found and did not think to look closer to the earth.

What is found? He spoke with an excited, accented whisper. The other man was lowering himself as he stalked forward and so Skarm did the same, leading him to creep to where the fawn was sleeping but still, he did not see it. The dark of the forest was so much harder to study than the stars.

Reyson heard the youth behind him. He was trying to keep up, and he was doing as well as he could. The youth wasn't always quiet, but he wasn't so blundering that they couldn't keep up. Occasionally Reyson would flick his ear back to listen to the youth move around.

A fawn, wounded, sleeping. Was his quiet whisper. Reyson moved and then with opened maw jumped forward to grasp the fawn by the throat. 

He left some room open in case the youth wanted to kill rather than maim, and they could eat. A good meal for two hunters in the night.

What he witnessed was fascinating, horrifying, dreary — and above all, necessary. The man had said it was a wounded fawn; before Rosenskarm could react to this (aside from an intrigued glimmer in his eye) there was a rush of activity.

The hunter lunged forth; surged, more like it. Grabbed the fawn. Whether it was too stunned or caught in deep sleep did not really matter. It was fragile, being so small. It was weak from its injury. The late hour was a boon to the wolves; and Reyson silenced the life from it before a sound could be made.

It was quick and clean. Rosenskarm was in awe.

Reyson had already eaten. Though the flesh tasted good, the tang on his tongue was nice. He let it drop and moved out of the way of the youth. Clearly the youngling was hungry and Reyson though a harsh wolf wouldn't let him starve.

You eat first. Fill empty belly.

Though it was distasteful to kill one wounded, if he hadn't someone else would have, or it would have suffered a much worse fate. Infection, and slow death. This was quick, painless and a mealt to nurture new. And then once it's body seeped into the ground would nourish it too.

This man was too kind. It surprised Rosenskärm; he had not thought anyone would be out this late, let alone someone willing to give away a warm meal. He did not question the man at all.

What a mann! Rosenskärm gasped around a smile, and then descended upon the limp body of the deer. It had only just died and so the heart still trembled. The blood was warm — as he cut in to the belly and began to carefully pull the fawn apart, he could feel the heat rising like embers from the gut.

It was messy work and he came away bloody, but fed. He chuffed and ducked his head as a sign of thanks to the other man, and the sound was wet because his snout was so thoroughly painted. It was an ugly look and in the coming hours Rosenskarm would clean himself.

Many thanks, jagermann.

Reyson chuckled quietly at the youths clear joy at being fed. Sometimes, they underestimated a good meal. He hadn't always had a full belly, especially if he had trained wrong the day before. So, to share something small like a meal, well it eased the child that he had deep inside. The one he didn't share, the one who had been raised rough.

You're very welcome. What does Jagermann mean? Reyson had trouble pronouncing the word, but he was curious. Renaud had told him that he was a curious wolf even if he didn't act on it, often.

Rosenskärm had begun to pull apart some of the slicked fur of his chest, where the red of the blood had begun to matte everything.

He flicked on ear at the question and then answered in a voice holding a bit of surprise, Ah, it is word for you. Jager. That wasn't a very clear explanation but Rosenskärm was no tutor. He was mostly taken aback that this stranger was interested to any degree at all, in his language or his people. Perhaps it was a passing fancy by the man to be friendly? But it still surprised Rosenskärm.

Rosenskärm, that is word for me. Name, for me. He licked his lips and tasted blood. How to... Give, to jagermann, as thank-you? If only he could speak this region's common tongue! It took so much longer to take what words he knew and translate them, then try to speak them aloud in a way that made sense.

The boy knew he owed this man for the hunt — but what could he give?

Reyson studied the youth, he would have a hard time getting that out of his far. Reyson had no offered to help anyone to get the blood out in some time, and he was wary to now. He moved to offer, but something stayed his tongue. No instead, he stood still and listened.

I'm Reyson Ebonywood. He spoke his name, quietly, quickly offering the same the youth did.  You owe me nothing. Just sometime if you meet me again, you teach me some of your language? If the youth never met him again, that was fine as well. He truly didn't want anything, just didn't like to see the young go hungry as he had.

The man was willing to exchange food for knowledge! This surprised Skarm but made him very happy. He loved the sound of his native tongue, as it was the tongue of his father and one of the few ways he could honor the man, and stay connected to him.

Rosenskärm can do that! Ja! His tail-tip patted the grass where it lay coiled against his tucked legs. He was soon on his feet again though. It was fortunate that this was the first encounter for Rosenskärm in this realm; if he had worse luck, he'd have gone without any interaction, or perhaps met someone dangerous.

Rey-son, it is good meeting you. He nodded his head as he said this, grinning, and only paused to look upon the fawn carcass. There was a lot of meat left but Rosenskärm was full. He wondered if his new friend would eat and share in the easy bounty or leave it for scavengers.

Perhaps Rosenskärm would linger a while in these woods — even if he could not see the stars so well, there were other things to gain here.

Reyson tilted his head at the youths exuberance and shared a small flitting smile, before he shifted and moved forward to nose at the fawn. He wasn't hungry as of yet. He turned back around. Good to meet you too.

He motioned with his head at the carcass. Would you like to bury that somewhere where you can find it later? IF not I will take it with me, if you will help me get it to my shoulders. My pack could eat it.

Reyson was fine with either one. If this young one wanted to keep the fawn and bury it for later, or if he wanted Reyson to take it.

Ah, so the hunter was not from these woods? Rosenskärm looked to the fawn and to the man, and nosed around the other side of where the remains sat in the ferns. If it is good for Rey-son, Rosenskärm help.

He tugged at part of the carcass and away it came, tearing along the line in the belly that he'd already made with his teeth, when he'd eaten. He thought briefly of taking a leg and burying it for later, but Reyson had done the work and deserved the reward.

Here, I -- ah, up, help to top. And he hoisted the fawn piece by piece across Reyson's shoulders. The blood was everywhere; in the ferns, shining sleek across Rosenskärm, even staining the autumn coat of Reyson by the time they were finished.

Good travel to Rey-son! Rosenskärm will see jagermann again, ja? A hopeful look crossed his bloodied face, which was admittedly eerie in the starlight.

Reyson liked how this one talked. His accent was strong, but it was full-bodied. He liked it. Reyson wouldn't have minded if the other had taken a leg. He would have gladly shared, this was for Rosenkarm after all.

Reyson didn't mind the blood on him, it was almost normal, nostalgic. Which was strange and a little sickening if he thought to hard of it, but he knew blood well, his own and others. The youthful wolf pulled a reluctant smile from Reyson, and he nodded. 

I live in Mereo if you come to the borders do not cross them, just call. I wouldn't want you to get harmed on my behalf. You will see me again, Rosenkarm.

Reyson dipped his head and without another word, he started off at a gait that would keep the fawn atop his back, he hoped the young wolves of the pack liked it, or even the mothers.