@Dogmeat since you said you were open for threads with him, here's one!
He went north again. It was a stupid idea, but Mara and her little group were getting boring at the moment, and he was hungry. Starving. Famished. Voracious.
The thick furred and boned wolf-dog groaned with hunger, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted.
"Food....feeeeed meee...." He groaned to no one in particular. The Los Angeles native was not a hunting dog in anyway at all. He was a pit fighter, but he couldn't chase after any deer or rabbit like these native wolves could. That's why he needed a pack or a partner to feed him as soon as possible. Or he would lay down and die. And Audrey III was not about to do that.
He was ready to give up when the smell of death drifted in on the wind. The behemoth ooo-ed with delight at the smell, licking his chops as salvia dribbled down his chops. A feast awaited him!
He picked up as much speed as an overweight wolf-dog could, getting closer and closer to the smell, only slowing down at its familiarity. A car? He walked closer, seeing a huge black box on its side, dented and broken.
"Well shit." He said, walking towards the mess curiously. The smell of humans was everywhere. This van must have fallen off the road and down the incline, and they had come to save whatever human had come down with the machine, if they were alive. But it was the smell of dogs that really intrigued the obese wolf.
Dead dogs. Food. Most of the bodies had been cleaned up, but he was sure he could find one that was forgotten if he did a bit of digging....there! A terrier or something. He didn't care. All he thought of now was how good it would taste. The wolf-dog licked his lips as he stared at his meal. It was mangled and broken in a few places, but hey, it would do.
thank you!!
Black was the night that covered them, terrifying and lonesome -- there were no comforting city lights, no familiar lance of steel on flesh. Dogmeat found himself pining for familiarity, and steeled his resolve sharply.
As morning rose soft and blush pink across the bruised landscape, the leviathan stirred as well -- hunger gnawed his belly and dulled his good will. The scant limb he had dug up for his brethren had been devoured swiftly and he was left to battle his own panning appetite. He found himself drawn back to the scene of the crash, for reasons unknown to him -- and as he drew close all semblance of hunger withered as acrid flesh and death assuaged his nostrils.
He was surprised to see his journey was not in solidarity -- ahead a russet dog was ruminating through the ruins. Dogmeat was about to warmly hail this creature and draw him back to their group when he realized the thing was no dog at all. Distinctly he felt terror seize him, though he stepped forwards all the same. "Get back." He snarled protectively, stepping over one of his dead kin that had perished by routing steel lanced through the chest. This wolfdog shared many features similar to him, yet Dogmeat felt earnestly he was not one of his own.
He was taken aback by the defensiveness of the recently arrived dog. Yes, it seemed another one of these dogs was roaming the Wilds. And from the smell of him, there were bound to be more alive ones.
"Oh? This one a your friends or somethin'?" He said, stepping back from the carcass as the older male growled at him. He looked down on the smaller creature. Despite the age difference, Audrey still towered over the smaller breed by a good 10 cm or so. Even if he was pure Tibetan Mastiff he'd still be taller than this little Inu. Audrey raised himself up, his tail rising in a wolfish gesture.
He chuckled softly as he looked over the old dog again. He looked hungry, starved, even more than his mind deluded himself to be. Why would he just give up a free meal like that? "You ain't a wild-dog, that's for certain. Look, cannibalizing is gonna be your best tactic 'til you learn howta hunt properly. Since there's a free meal right there, and you're lookin' much more hungry than I do, how about you take a bit?" He gestured to the dead dog, noticing that in a few moments it would start freezing in this cold. "Ain't no time ta be squeamish. You and whatever other dogs are with you gotta start bein' more resourceful..."
Dogmeat was not cowed by the stranger's stature -- and as the towering hunk drew close to him, he recognized the waft of wolfscent flush on the male's coarse fur. His hackles bristled and he stiffened, his thick lower gum curled back in disgust.
His triangular ears remained cupped forwards in assertion -- and he readied himself for any blow the large dog-wolf supplied. "These dogs have been subjected to otoko hands." He replied readily, his curled tail held confidently over his broad backside. Quick was he to glance at the felled dogs about them -- most who had been sick or consumed with malaise well before the van crash. "You may eat them -- and you may die." He growled lowly, his blunt muzzle lifted upwards.
It was up to the dog-wolf to decide then his recourse -- Dogmeat was not lying -- it was evident most of the corpses possessed an unpleasant odor about them entirely unrelated to the advent of their death.
"Da hell is 'otoko'?" He asked involuntarily, before coming to the realization. "Ah, you mean human, right? That makes sense." He kicked at the body, his appetite for it gone now. He had a similar experience with those made sick by humans before, and they had always left him sick for hours, even days once. He wouldn't touch it.
"So you guys nearly gotchaselves killed 'cuz of some human accident? Sounds about right?" He was curious as to why a bunch of dogs were in a human contraption. He was in one of those things before, many times in fact, mostly in his first year, when his first owner drove him around to pit matches. Were they going somewhere similar? He hadn't seen any signs of human life for miles, so why would there be pit fights out here?
His coldness somewhat dissolved as the dogwolf lost his interest in the dead -- and while he did not yet let down his guard, he no longer tensely leaned forward. His ears pulled upright as the male mentioned the humans -- were there more of them here? Would their band be seized behind doors once more? Dogmeat's gut flipped -- he could not and would not fall prey to their whims again.
"Yes." He answered curtly, his expression sorrowful as he recalled the events that had happened in this canine graveyard. "Where is there food?" It was clear he shared no fondness for banter -- and pointedly, he looked at the much larger dog as if imploring for sustenance.
The obese wolf drifted off at the dog's mournful expression. Whatever happened was a tragedy; to him. Audrey really didn't care, especially now that they weren't on the menu. But at the mention of food, the auburn creature perked up again.
"Well, everywhere really! If you know how to find it." He chuckled, gesturing all around him. "You can hunt: there's big game like deer, elk and moose, those're hard to catch, an' you'd need about 2 or more to bring one of 'em down. Then there's smaller prey, your rodents, birds, small mammals. But a course, since ya ain't that big on hunting yet, as weak and inexperienced as y'all are," He said this quite bluntly, pointedly looking at the dog's ribs showing through his sides. "Ya'd probably needa steal from one of da wolf packs 'round 'ere. That's dangerous work, doe. Them wolves'll kill ya if ya ain't smart and sneaky."
Considering the veritable girth that the tawny dogwolf boasted, Dogmeat was sure he would point him in the direction of food. Yet his gaze and ears alike fell in disappointment as Audrey offered little but common sense -- and pointedly, Dogmeat's gaze strayed along the male's curvaceous sides with sharpness.
"Where can we find a cache?" He leaned forwards, his gaze intense with both distress and a gnawing hunger it appeared Audrey had never endured. "Who are you?"
The dog looked on with disappointment. He tilted his head curiously. "What? Did you think that food would just be out there? Humans don't exist out here, they can't just hand out food when you want it." He wondered if the dog would let the others know that they weren't going to just find food out in the open or in stores.
"Depends on the pack. Most are deep inside their territories, and increase the chance of you getting killed. Some are on the borders." He stared the desperate dog down, unfazed by the anguish in his eyes. The plump hybrid was no stranger to such a look, though he had never truly experienced such misery himself. He only shrugged, flashing a devil-may-care smile at the starving inu. "Name's Audrey III. What's yours, tough guy?"
Dogmeat could tell the red brute held no compassion for his kind -- and with that realization poignant on his mind, he saw no further use in conversing with the unsympathetic male. He would swallow his disappoint -- as he had swallowed their misfortune -- and chalk it up to the irresolute misery of the world.
There was a gravity to his tone as he supplied an answer: "Dogmeat." It was without any sort of garrulity. With one last glance to the dog he turned and limped away -- cursing the brute's reprobate nature. He half hoped the pig would eat his fallen comrades -- at least that way, he would fall ill and feel the despair that consumed Dogmeat's dwindling heart.
He snorted in laughter at the name. Dogmeat. How ironic. As the dog limped away he burst into laughter, the least emphatic as one can be. "Alright, see ya, Dogmeat." The wolfdog smirked, turning to sift through the wreckage of the crash. Maybe he could find something fresher here, if there were any good dogs left rotting here. He sincerely doubted it, and with a final sniff, the fat wolfdog went his own way to find food for himself.