Blessedly, a river coursed at the foot of the plateau where her half-eaten body now rested; despite the cold, his flight from the pack wolves that would surely chase him took him to the flowing water in an attempt to hide his trail. When he felt he was no longer in danger of pursuit— although he was sure they would not give up until they had someone to blame for her death— he paused to wash the blood from his fur.
It was dangerous, that, for he was still not much more than skin and bones. The cold could swiftly ruin him if he did not seek a sheltered place to dry; but a forest toward over him just ahead, and he swiftly towards it, within the safe shallows of the river that would hopefully mask his trail. A glance backward, and he then entered to seek out a hollow in which he could rest and dry his soaking— but now clean— fur.
Nova followed the river, the sounds of running water soothing to her ears. She had tumbled down the mountain and sprained something in her right foreleg, which meant every move she made sent a jolt of pain through her body. With clenched teeth, Nova tottered along the riverside, mind a whirl of thoughts both past and present. Her musing was cut short, however, when ahead she spotted a silvery figure dip into the river and come out.
What an idiot. Didn't he know he'd kill himself like that? Picking up the pace, Nova's yellow gaze followed the creature and saw he was searching for a place to dry off and preen. He looked like shit, all skin and bones with no meat left on him. She was too far off to tell who he was from sight, but the wind that brought his scent told her enough.
"Dapper?" she called out, still many yards from him. She paused, not wanting him to see her injuries, and stood still as she watched him. Would he recognize her? He seemed feral, almost primal in his movements, but she hoped it was just a trick of the light.
He froze as someone called his name, tension claiming all the muscles in his body— against the cold, against the fact that someone here knew his name. He had been careful not to speak it; or perhaps had been so delirious with hunger that he had been beyond such conventions. His mind struggled to sort out what this information could mean, and when no answers were forthcoming, the thin and ragged male turned to face whoever it was that addressed him.
He recognized her as soon as his grey eyes fell across his body, and he winced— that had been a lifetime ago, and the memories of that time were painful in their pleasantness. He hadn't been blessed with much luck then, either, but he at least hadn't been the piteous creature he was now. For a moment, he considered killing her— out of shame, this time, more than hunger— but another option dawned on him. She could, perhaps, be his salvation.
Although it stirred an anger deep within him, Dapper put on his best show. He whined pathetically, then questioned shakily— "Nova? Is that you?"— his performance enhanced by the cold air against his wet fur.
She breathed a sigh of relief as he turned, recognition dawning in his eyes. She smiled and stepped forward, closing the gap between them in slow, stop-motion movements. Her foreleg stilled pained her, but Nova was improving with every passing day. She could hunt rabbits now, where before she had been subjected to eating leftovers when she found them.
"Yeah," she replied, her yellow eyes watching him carefully. Finally she reached him, the smell that emanated from him caused her stomach to roil. "You look like shit, Dap. And you don't smell much better." Nova's gaze roamed his body, thin and emaciated as it was. "You run into some trouble?"
He could see that she was wounded, her gait uneven and halting. That made his stomach quake with hunger— it could be so easy— but he dare not kill so soon after his feast upon his beloved. Not when he was attempting to avoid any repercussions. He smiled faintly at her in return, appreciating the dark humor that mirrored his own, even as he hated her for it— he had been handsome, once. A wolf any bitch would have thrown herself to; but that wasn't true, either, else he would have been king of some mountain already. "I've never had luck," he chuckled bitterly, "You know that."
"Yeah," she replied, her lemon yellow gaze raking over him once again. He really did look like shit, but it couldn't be avoided, she supposed. "I'm not much better these days. Sprained my leg a few days ago." She lifted the limb in question and shook it at him playfully. "At least I can hunt now. Want me to get us something to eat?" Though she wasn't the strongest wolf, she was fast, and knew how to outsmart her prey.