Wolf RPG

Boone thundered after a doe and her fawn, mainly going for the latter but by this point in the chase he would be happy to catch either. The young, which was more teen than it was child, was proving to be more difficult to catch than he had originally intended, keeping well on its mothers heels as the wolfdog chased them. And with no hunting consort to head them off or otherwise confuse the pair that he had already separated from the herd, Boone's chances for success were decidedly slim.

But he, a canine bred in the southern trenches, had reserves of energy just for chases like this; and while the mother escaped him, her child was not as lucky. On his last leg, Boone lunged out, and managed to fatally harm the fawn. They tumbled together, and while Boone lay exhausted on the ground, his quarry bleated and stumbled away, no longer able to run. A corner of its belly had been torn, and its hind leg had been badly twisted in the fall. The pitiful thing cried and limped away, as Boone watched and panted, no longer concerned with the escape of his meal.

He caught his breath after a while, and then pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. The southerner padded after the fawn, which had fallen and gotten back up a handful of times in the time it had taken to move fifty or so yards ahead, but twenty yards after it Boone became aware of a distinct scent up ahead. A pack border. And if he wasn't mistaken, he knew one of the prominent scents there.

Boone paused. He was unwilling to cross the border. But there was his dying, slowly fleeing fawn up ahead, about thirty yards deep into Redhawk Caldera. The wolfdog began to bounce on his feet, anxiously trying to decide if the meal was worth the risk or demeaning his morals on trespassing. A trespass was a trespass, no matter how close to the edge it was.

After leaving the pups with an able caretaker, Fox had whisked herself away to the outer reaches of the caldera. Life was slowly but surely going back to "normal," even if she knew things would always be different with the kids around. It would be a long year of teaching and training them to live their lives properly, and Fox had no doubt that each of them would be successful in their own way. The new mother didn't have any particular vision of what that success was, but she did know that all three of her children would be nothing short of spectacular. Fox had high expectations, and they would be expected to meet (or exceed) them.

Trotting at a steady, even pace, she halted suddenly when the thick scent of blood and death hit her like a warm front in the middle of November. Once the initial shock had worn off, Fox raced to the overwhelming smell, spotting the floundering fawn almost immediately. If there was anybody else around, she blocked them out in favor of the fresh meal she was about to catch. Fox had never been much of a hunter, but this was just too easy to pass up. Fox slammed her whole body into it, sending hooves and paws flying in every direction. In no less than twenty seconds, she'd cut off its air supply. Still unaware of the wolfdog so close by, she began to tug and pull at the creature, pulling of pieces and consuming them as quickly as possible. The kids would be hungry when she got home, and the tender flesh of fawn would be even more tender once it came back up.

He watched as the universe conspired against him (as he suspected it always had and would) and felt his entire body go numb as a small red wolf leaped in and finished off what little life the deer had left. Boone groaned, frustrated and annoyed -- except that there was a mild sense of gratefulness resonating deep in his bones; he could've just been caught, had he went after it.

"Hey!" he called for the gorging female's attention. His tail up, but friendly as he stood at her literal doorstep. "I was hopin' you'd share somma that carcass there, ma'am," he spoke in his clear southern accent, the deepness lifted so that his voice could travel to her. "That was my catch -- I mean I'm the one that maimed it an' all. I just didn't wanna chase it over your borders right here. I won't bother for the whole thang but a couple mouthfuls would do a scamp like me real good if you'd be so kind?"

Fox's gaze snapped onto the stranger when he spoke, and she emitted a low warning growl before she actually tuned in to what he was saying. He was asking for "his" kill, and Fox erupted with laughter. "Hell no," she replied, "It’s mine. Unless you want to fight me for it." She had three hungry kids at home, not to mention the rest of the pack. This was her food, and she wasn't about to let some stranger take it away from her. At least, not without a fight.

Anticipating that he might actually want to fight her for it, Fox stepped over the carcass protectively. Her tail lashed behind her, and she stared the contender dead in the eyes. This was a challenge, there was no mistaking that, and she wanted to make sure he understood. He had a few options, of course. He could flee away from Redhawk Caldera, in which case Fox wouldn't bother to give chase. He could accept her challenge and fight her for what remained of the carrion. He could attempt to placate her by submitted and asking for a place among their ranks.

He seemed to choose running, and Fox took a few strides in his direction, snarling as she watched him recede into the landscape (and away from her precious home). She ate until she felt like she was going to explode, then she high-tailed it back to her kids, unloading the half-digested meat for them to gobble up.