Wolf RPG - Little devil, all alone

Pearly mittens met with soft, yet prickled pine-laden terrain; the scattered quills managing to worm their way betwixt the pawpads of one scrawny little maiden; her frame wracked with evidence of hunger. She'd never been particularly astute at the whole hunting gig, and the occasional field mouse simply wasn't cutting it. She'd find someone else's kill to leech from. In the meantime, the worst of scowls painted delicate features, her mind racing back and forth, back and forth.

Miserable. miserable, miserable, miserable.

She'd grumble her distaste aloud, for only the trees to hear. One little accident and this was the result. She wouldn't allow her mind to linger for long, for the guilt she buried would rear its head, and she did not wish to be guilty. She wasn't guilty.

She'd come here for a reason, enticed by the feintest of herbal scents; not that she had anything to use them on, but she'd sought some familiarity in her desperation. Like a whelp welcomed home into a soft embrace; it was within the bounds of healing she'd found something comforting.

Perhaps she'd tear a chunk from her pretty white forelimb; give herself something fun to do!

She'd listen to the yowls of chattering coyotes in the distance, her tattered ears fixed towards every sound on the breeze; if she was lucky, she'd catch the victory howl of another, and frequent the kill once they'd left. Letting out a soft exhale, the silvery wretch weaved through the foliage, until her prayers to no deity in particular had been answered! The soft hide of a hare lay crouched in the distance, prime for the cradle of depraved jaws.

She'd launched into a sporatic scramble, uncooridinated, and ungraceful as one could possibly be; yet she'd managed to end up close to the tail end of her quarry, close enough to get a devastating nip at an outstretched hind leg. A splatter of crimson dotted her muzzle, though she'd fallen short of truly getting the kill as the hare managed to outpace her and disappear into a burrow. Envy would thrash her tail in protest, turning to stomp on a fern and rip the delicate leaves away in a tantrum, her jaws opened to let out an annoyed sneer.

..I'll wait then! You'll come out. She remarked with exasperation to the empty air, before hunkering herself down directly at the entrance of the burrow, her gaze peering into the muffled darkness. The scent of her contribution still permeating the air of the hare's dank hideaway.

The Rise had been blessed with the kiss of an early spring. The days were just a touch more tolerable, and the vegetation seemed to crawl back to life once again.

Mulherin, still preoccupied with the thought of his missing sister, picks a path that delves far off from the Rise's borders. Signs of Masquerade's presence, once constant, are nowhere to be found. His hopes are not dashed yet, however. The boy continues to press on.

Once within the Cache, he is met with the scent of spring hares, herbs, and most notably, that of a loner. He tracks this trail, idly curious, maybe a twinge territorial, to see what the wolf was up to. It didn't take long to find her.

He is stopped in his tracks by the rustle of a scurrying hare, accompanied by the sound of a distant voice. Sharp eyes find the wolf amid the shrubbery—she is lean and silvery, still crouched outside of the hare's burrow. Without any attempts to conceal his presence, he starts toward her at an easy pace.

No luck so far? He asks as he nears.

Entirely consumed by the task of intimidating a wounded hare out of its burrow, she hadn't noticed the idle traipse of paws until they were close enough for the stranger to pose his inquiry. She'd swing her head back over her shoulders, staring at the man whom trotted into the clearing with an upside-down gaze before scrambling to her feet and assuming a position much more dignified than that of sticking her head into a dingy hole.

She was hesitant as she turned around to face him, though the tone with which he spoke hadn't eluded to anything more sinister, and so she cast her doubts away with the wind, as if they'd never been there at all. Her tone was friendly, the excited sway of her tail a testament to her delight at the figure of another.

..No luck. None at all! I'm half-starved, and the stupid thing won't GET OUT!She informed him with a frantic touch to her tone, turning around to dig at the entrance of the burrow; a fruitless task which ended with muddied paws, and the thump of the silvery wretch sluouching to her haunches in defeat, an annoyed scoff echoing from ivory jaws.

Envy would instead turn her gaze back towards the mottled pelage of the other, not wallowing in defeat for hardly a second before moving to the next idea. An opportunity stood plainly. Wide-eyed, she stared him down with an unmatched intensity. Passionate about the subject matter, and ravenous even without near-starvation wracking her frame.

She wouldn't spend a moment debating, rather, she'd immediately elude towards recruiting help for the endeavour, displaying little caution and speaking in a casual manner...Mm. But you look well-fed. You a good hunter? She asked plainly, offering a slight crook of her crown as she posed the question. Perhaps he had others to help provide for him. The thought crossed her mind.

She hadn't thought to offer her name, nor ask for his. Tunnel-visioned as ever.

He tilted his head to meet her gaze before she quickly gathered herself off the floor. Now, he could see her much better—she’s smaller, skinnier than he realized. Her skin clung desperately to her ribs as if they were going to run away from her at any moment. Nonetheless, she seemed amiable enough and met him with wagging tail.

She spoke, then. It reminded him of Carrion in a way, both were a tad odd and ever pursuant of food.

Have you tried asking politely? He responds idly, delivered with his usual dry humor.

Mulherin nearly felt a pang of sympathy for her misfortune, but the Rise wolves were never ones to be charitable. Today would be no different. Curiosity always got the better of him, though.

As for her next comment, he can’t help but let out a tiny scoff. Well-fed wouldn’t be the first—or most flattering—word he’d use to describe himself, but obviously a meal was on her mind.

Thanks- I guess. I get by. He answers, then poses a question for her instead. You new around here?

Politely? Yes, I am polite. She simply affirmed his statement with a nod and a grin, tail flicking idly against the ground. She hadn't picked up on the innuendo that her earlier words had carried—offensive, really. She could see it in the slight grimace of his features, yet still, it remained lost on her.

..Yes! New here... and new to all of this. Im not exactly built for going it alone, if you couldn't tell. My paws are ah- too dainty for all this grunt work. She answers with a higher cadence to the last part, a touch of humour cast his way in return. ...I s'pose I'm just used to company. Haven't had the best luck the past few days.

She'd cast her gaze back towards the rabbit hole, a clear vendetta had been sewn.