Wolf RPG

She didn't even like it here, she had no idea why she was staying. The whole swamp was sticky with mud, and she could barely pull her feet out of it. The moon floated high in the sky, still waxing, she thought. Or maybe waning. Anyway, it cast a eerie white glow on everything, including her fur. It made her look golden, which she liked. She laid inside a hollow log that laid on the ground. She was eating a squirrel she'd caught a few minutes earlier. She bit into it and was glad she was such a skilled hunter.

He had thought himself an able tracker. To have lost his quarry was shameful, especially for a man of his age and skill; but it meant the safety of his family, so he would continue doggedly onward. This is the sentiment that led the man in to the hills, and through them to the swampy land he once called home. Njal was exhausted when he arrived on the fringes of the muddy land. His side screamed, and the burning of the skin where Kierkegaard had torn in to him was irritated by the travel.

Njal came to a slow halt - like his body had to stop more than it wanted to - and he slouched against a very old and muddied log. The wood creaked due to his weight, and in the next moment there was a rolling crackle - until the log popped and was splintered, leaving him to stumble awkwardly in the muck.

The little creature was hidden well enough, but was exposed as soon as the log splintered; Njal was busy adjusting himself and his footing, else he would've seen her.

She could hear the footsteps of something nearby and it was getting closer. Pressure was put upon the old hollow log and- with a crraaaack- It splintered and split, leaving her somewhat in the open. Some tall canine stood next to where the log had been. "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Hold on. I suggest you look where you're leaning before you crack someone's resting spot." She said. She rolled her eyes and waited for how he might respond.

The man was breathing heavily, so heavily in fact that the spirited voice came as a surprise to him. His ears pivoted back, and then up again in alertness. With a huff he took a grander breath and gathered his wits. The entity that sat before him was small, but definitely canine in origin. At first he thought it could be a fox, but as he realized it was in fact a wolf, Njal was satisfied. He jolted up upon her command and staggered, with his eyes upon the cracked log, and slid his attention back to the child.

It was a child, right? Tiny, thin, alone - Njal was struck by a sudden need to covet the strange creature. A log is no home for a wolf. He announced, and his words slurred softly, likely from the exhaustion and possible infection to his wound. The man swallowed despite the dryness in his throat - and noticed the squirrel. What ah, what have you got there?

She noticed the slur in his words. "I said resting spot, not home." She corrected, but not in a mean way. She watched as the adult noticed her prey. She bit into it and started talking while she chewed. "It's mah squiwwel," she said, before she took a gulp. "I caught it myself." She said proudly, satisfied with her catch.

He swallowed again, this time tasting the dried and crusted blood that still freckled his lips; he hadn't washed since the fight with Kierkegaard. That's.. That's very good. A smile. Brief, perhaps false, but the child was distracted enough by her meal.

With a few steps he slid through the mud, then seemed to lose his balance - or maybe he chose to fall, who knows. The mud cushioned his hefty self, sort of, and squished beneath him. A creeping sludge slid across the open wound which zagged across his curving ribs. Taste good? wheezed the man, more out of a desire for conversation than true care, or even hunger.

"Thanks!" She smiled. "Yeah, it tastes like squirrel." She said. Then he.. Fell? Slipped? "Uhhh... You okay?" But she could tell he wasn't. She then noticed this scar... And the mud was seeping in. She didn't know barely anything about healing, but mud in a wound didn't seem healthy. She reached over and wiped the mud off his wound. "How'd you get that?" She asked, with a raise of her brow.

The touch of the small wolf made him cringe, although the mud had cooled the heat of the wound considerably. He wasn't entirely numb to it, but the pain was dulled enough. Njal likely reacted to the attention more than the pain of the bite. Still, he turned his body abruptly, which spread the skin and made him wince harder. Hey! No, don't touch that. Ugh, kids. Nosy little shits.

Wait, was that his thought? That was... Vulgar.

How'd you get that? The girl asked, her voice bursting with curiosity, for all he could tell. Ah, I.. I got in a fight.

Sort of. That didn't sound right though. He had defended his home, not just fought a random stranger (except he totally fought a random stranger). Maybe he was getting feverish after all...

You ever... Get in a fight? With more than a squirrel, I mean. Yeah that was conversation. Conversation was happening.

She put her paw down when he asked her not to touch it. "Okay." She said, and he answered her question, sending one back at her. "Oh yeah!" She grinned and stretched her neck forward, showing off fang marks and smaller minor cuts. There was also a deep wound in her chest, and a few other small cuts. A much older faded scar ran from her back onto her haunches. It was long and white. "Fights are how I got all these." She grinned wildly. It was painful, but she loved fighting.

Ah, so you're a.. A fighter too, He drawled sorely. He hardly looked upon the girl as she showed off her war wounds, but he did chuckle softly; attempting to make nice with the girl for what it was worth. Would he behave like this with Maera too? Would everything hurt and get all muddied up together?

You could probably fight me and win. At least right now. Hah.

Do you... Enjoy it? Fighting. He didn't wait for an answer though, and continued on, his mind roaming. I do. Or rather, used to... Didn't fight well this time, so I don't think I like it anymore. But fighting was a part of life. A very important one to Njal, at least prior to the rise of his family and the subsequent pain that it brought. He felt directionless, and not like himself at all.

"Yeah, Yeah I am." She said and flashed a wide grin that she thought was feirce at him. He barely gave her time to stuff in a "yup!" before he continued talking. "That's okay. I didn't win my last fight either. Who were you up against?" She asked him. She wanted to see maybe if she ever met this wolf's opponent if she could beat them.

Who had he been up against, a stranger or his own stubborn doubts? That thought was far too deep for Njal right now. A big gray fella. I caught him near.. Near where again? Pretty far back, actually. The mountains. That little creek he had been brooding near, with the willow tree. Right. Near.. Somewhere. It was yesterday, or last night, or something. He couldn't really remember. That wasn't a good sign, was it.

"Well, I promise if I find that big grey fella, I'll fight him and win for you. Like, revenge." She thought. She liked revenge. It was fun and felt good like victory after a long time of loss. After the other had won so many times, but then you win, and Runt thought it was a wonderful feeling. She noticed he couldn't remember when exactly it was. He didn't seem old and forgetful or anything, but something was wrong. "Dude, are you ok? You tired or somethin'?" She asked him, concerned. He seemed sleeply and his words were slurred.

What Runt said was in jest, or so he would've perceived it had he been in a proper state of mind. But instead Njal just nodded, taking her word as a vow against the treachery the lone wolf could have perpetrated. The world was beginning to swim around him now - or maybe not swim, but just, get gradually more blurred. He hadn't been smacked on the head during the fight, had he? Tripped, fallen, anything?

Njal couldn't remember. His mind wandered a little bit - until Runt spoke again, to which he shrugged. Tired? Yeah. Pretty tired... he slurred, on cue with a yawn. As his jaw snapped shut and he shook the impending drowse from his head, Njal tried to lift himself from the mud. It gave a wet slrrpk sound as he freed himself of it. I should... Go to bed.

"Uh, yeah. Looks like ya' should." She said, disgust beginning to lace her voice. "Where's your home or whatever?" She asked. He couldn't just fall asleep splat jn the middle of the mud, unless maybe if he lived here. But she didn't know of anyone who would want to live here.

Home? Where was home. That was a good question. Any other day he would've been swift to acknowledge the glacier; but any other day, he would've had fond thoughts of the place. His home was with his family, and they were splintered to pieces...

The glacier. Its... North from here. Northish. He rumbled, his tone turning lethargic, and began to stride through the loose mud. The big lug slipped a few times due to improper balance, almost as if he'd forgotten that there was mud all around him. On him too, he realized when a breeze passed across the two of them; sending a chill up his spine. Feel free to visit little one, if you ever need it.

He wasn't really thinking - or else Njal would've introduced himself, maybe talked about his home more, and made a point to remember the skinny little creature. In all likelihood Njal would return home, pass out, and not remember this entire event by morning.

"Okay. I'll be sure to come if I need a safe haven." She said, even though she'd already been offered one for the winter. Amber from the plateau had said they could meet on every full moon in the winter. That was about three or four times. "I think you should return home and sleep. I think you might be sleep-deprived." She said. He seemed lazy, droopy, tired, and a little sick. His words were heavily slurred too.

Njal gave a brief nod as she accepted his proposal, but mid-motion he swayed and had to step hard to prevent himself from falling over. After that, the decision was swiftly made: he had to get home and get to bed, pronto. The fight he'd had must have taken a lot out of him (aside from blood, which had indeed finally been staunched by the mud). Yeah, you're right. I'd best be off.

Without even turning to say a proper farewell, Njal was on his way. He passed by the nameless little wolf and her splintered log, and headed in to the north once more - there would be no running from his problems this time, no matter how much he wanted to flee.