Wolf RPG

Full Version: maybe there is damnation
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.
the plan was, he told @Indra III, for him to teach her how to raid. how to knock off a cache; how to feed herself when no one was looking.
the first few times he caught prey for her, he thought nothing of it. then subsequent occasions, indra might turn to find his eyes curious on her.
or, in one instance, he would be openly demanding that she stay close, in a harsh temper the next, and relenting at last. he was mercurial and made no attempts to change.
night brought cold rain. he tossed what he had caught to her: a small hare. "you take it." colt was drenched and left what little shelter there was among these ice-holes to her as well.
She took to these lessons as she had her previous captors, although by comparison Colt was a more lenient master, and she was better kept as a result.

Even now, drenched, having toiled for their dinner, he gave her first dibs. Indra did not question these moments and ate readily.

She did not question his insistence that she crowd in close either, and in fact relished such moments - touch starved as she was, nervous to set him off.
by turns the press of her body was irritating and a comfort. she chewed quickly, quietly; she had learned to be quiet. or maybe she had never been loud. 
in time he nipped at the tip of her ear. "yew gonna stay with me the winter then, indra?" his voice rumbled, the rattle of a rusted traincar on an equally graveled track.
Indra became involved in the process of opening the kill chest-wide and slurping at the innards, and when she felt teeth clip at her ear she was slow to pull back.

Fluids dripped from her chin.

You gonna keep feedin' me? Food made her bold; she felt warm and pleased for all the weight in her belly and didn't notice how sharp she sounded.
"aye." there was something in his eyes now, something that had been there before once or twice, briefly.
she was becoming rough-edged like him.
colt snickered. "sooner or later yew gotta work fer it, same as me."
thievin', she repeated from their first meeting together, licking her lips.

find a mark, get in, get out. he had recited this to her at least once by now. she chose not to think of the other aspects he had spoken of - mostly due to not understanding.
colt's eyes flashed with approval. he pulled away from her and shook out his fur, prepared for it to be slicked once more against his muscled body before long. his red gaze found her own and he pushed down into the next web-comb of ice, moving slowly away from the glacier.
"an' what d'yew look fer, when yer pickin' a mark?"
He began to leave by way of his swaggering steps, and Indra had a split second to choose between the entrails or her master, which was difficult. She sprang up and after him with a longing look over one bony shoulder.

Colt quizzed her.

Glossy coats, round bellies, ladies or kids --an' count how many men. Was that all of it? She hurried to reply and might have missed something.
colt nodded. "attagirl." his voice was little more than a growl. "now. yew decide. we findin' a pack or seein' who we can jump out here?" it was nice to speak so coldly, and his throat ached for a fight.
"yew ever sparred before, girlie?" the rogue asked after a beat, looking back toward the red wolf inching down the ice-slopes after him.
She wasn't sure, and concern lit her features. Not to be confused with the morality of it - Indra knew it was an "us or them" situation - and she was more worried of the different risks.

Dunno what lives out here, she murmurs.

Attacking a solo person on the road would be easier and have a smaller payout; elsewise, a pack would have more loot but be much more dangerous.

He asked about sparring and her hackles immediately began to spike; her gait was hesitant, too. No. a wild look returned to her.
colt chuckled. "don't matter much, do it? keep the odds down: two t'one will almost always go well." no need to be fair when it came to taking.
the feral glint that erupted in her eyes stopped colt once more. "then it's high time yew learned. how do yew expect t'do yer thievin' if yew can't fight?"
his shoulders were sharp beneath the progressively icier rain.
'm pretty quick, she snapped back defensively.

On cue, Indra missed a step and slipped, her claws skittering on ice, until she righted herself without falling.

Her tail was straight-out behind her for balance and immediately after, curled to her belly.
colt let her fall, licking his lips once with an open grin at her predicament. "yer lucky, is all. same way as yew were lucky i found yew when i did."
it may have seemed cruel, but briggs was only pragmatic. "yer gonna learn. no ifs and or buts." he stopped dead now, sniffed the air. blood on the wind.
She knew the smell of blood anywhere. It made her salivate in an ugly way, dribbling across the ice as she swung her head around and up.

There was no pinpointing it for her, so she relied upon Colt's wandering eye or his pivoting ears, and sidled closer.
"looky-look." blackwinged birds forming a ring in the sky. "they gather like that when there's a kill down yonder," he grunted. he and indra had almost come to the bottom of the hollows, and until they stood upon the open plain he did not speak.
colt was content to leave it behind. he turned back to the birds, then glanced to the girl. "yer lead."
The birds were a good sign. Indra was energized by her earlier meal and when prompted to lead the way, moved ahead without worry. She slunk at first - posture low and lacking confidence - until she was closer, and the childish desire to chase overpowered sense.

Onward she went, frightening some of the birds away in a tizzy of black feathers. She was engrossed in this game and forgot to look for the carcass they no doubt circled - or whatever had drawn them.
colt shook his head as she raced the last few feet, scattering the birds. but he did not scold her for this display, only moved slinkingly toward the shape in the distance.
an elk, half-rotted by now. he began to gorge himself, lifting his head from time to time to scout the land for approaching bodies. a death of this size would draw many.
"get over here, girl," he ordered at last, smeared in blackened blood from chin to chest. "eat up. might be your last chance fer a while."
Indra centered and wheeled about, her tongue lolling from her mouth, chasing the birds until they were out of reach and then spinning again to run as they baited her repeatedly. She knew she couldn't catch them and didn't care.

Colt called to her and so she pulled to a stop, as a sled dog might when issued an order, and then gave up her game. The slovenly girl approached the carcass and circled it next, seeking a spot that was ripe but not too far gone; far from the man too, in case his mood shifted.

The meat was sour but it would do the job of filling her up.
full of flesh and in a palatable mood, colt lifted up and went to lay in the shadow of several pines. a nap, another meal, and he would lead indra away again.
he was not yet ready to sleep; his scarlet eyes watched her with a territorial glistening from the darkness cast by the low cold branches.
Her teeth found a ream of flesh and so she grabbed and pulled, wrenching one way then another, until she could get at the toughened remnants of tissue rooting the ribs in place. She gnawed bone, too.

All the while aware of being watched. It wasn't the first time nor the last, and no matter how unnerved she felt, food was more important.

Her body scythed one way then the other with the full force of her hips involved; and when she could pry nothing else from the rotted thing, she stepped back, covered in grease and black blood.
she was fierce in a desperate way, sinewed out of necessity. colt realized the world had carved her into a toughened shape before they had ever met one another. but a winter alone was a way to test her mettle. or die.
colt was no believer in fate. it was good they had met. better she owed him. 
he watched her thin body arc over the kill, pulling the last of its offering into the cold air.
And she would owe him; plucked from nowhere, nothingness, a resolute end that would have eventually overwhelmed her abilities.

She stank of rotten meat and her belly was round; she settled beside the carcass to rest and digest, sides bulging.

If not for Colt she'd have never been so full.
he watched her till she slept, allowing her a gracious amount of freedom. usually he might command her to lie close or even locked beneath the crook of his arm.
but she'd earned her space. colt slept.