+- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Archives (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11)
+--- Thread: Lone Star Mountain fires in mississippi (/showthread.php?tid=23187)
fires in mississippi - Siobhan - September 18, 2017
The pair of wolves she’d been forced to stay with gave her more attention than she’d wanted but, in their newly budding relationship, they also spent time with one another that didn’t involve her. When she became the third wheel, everything turned into a nightmare. She barely remembers the escape, making a whim of a decision while she could, and she’s spent the last several weeks looking over her shoulder. Most of her wounds have healed, though nasty scars have settled in without proper treatment and care but she’d never had time to stop and give them the attention they deserved.
She’s come across land that seemed vaguely familiar to her, somewhere beyond the nightmare her life has turned into, but she kept going until she found somewhere she felt was safe enough to rest for more than a few hours. She’s come across few wolves in her travels, avoiding them at all cost—it’s how she’d gotten into this predicament in the first place, isn’t it? Trying to ask a stranger for help that only led her right back into the paws of her tormenter.
However, in the mountain she’s taken refuge, dwelling in the depths of the cave near the base of the mountain, her scent has become hard to track when inside. Rarely does she take the chance to go out and, when she does, she’s always surprised by the time of day. It is morning when Siobhan slips out of the darkness near an opening, noting the bright sunlight filtering into the base. Slowly, she takes a step forward and it takes several minutes of anxious glancing back and forth and sniffs of her nose to realize there’s no one nearby that she can sense and eventually she makes it out into the daylight.
The sounds of clacking antlers bang overhead and she glances up to see two rams scuffling several yards overhead and a second, lower cliff between she and the small herd that has collected. It takes her by surprise when, with one shove and hooves to close to the ledge, the larger ram shoves the other off the ledge where he lands roughly—and with a crack, she can hear—on the second ledge. It takes several seconds for him to collect himself but he’s not sturdy, unable to keep all four limbs on the ground that he stumbles, losing his balance and slipping off the ledge he’d landed on and taking a tumble down the rocky cliffside.
Siobhan’s eyes widen and she moves a few steps forward, glancing around every so often, but she finds the creature unconscious—or dead—and it pulls her closer, her stomach rumbling, to see if her string of bad luck is finally to an end. A meal landing right into her lap is a sign of good things to come, right? She licks her jobs, climbing over a small bolder to the divot in the ground where the ram has fallen, blood pooled beneath him and smeared across her face. She sees no movement of the chest or twitch in limbs and it is then she does not wait, rushing forward to dive face first into her first meal in who knows how long, eating with vigor once she breaks through the outer layer.
RE: fires in mississippi - Atshen’s Ghost - September 18, 2017
The stillness of the early-autumn morning had occasionally been interrupted by a gentle breeze. In these gusts, Atshen had been able to catch the far-off scents of prey and wolf alike. For a majority of these samplings, there had been nothing that intrigued the former Dark Master. Though the scent of an ill doe had almost diverted his path, the yearling felt as though he couldn't be bothered to hunt now. Despite the fact that he was gradually growing more famished by the minute, the raven-colored wolf found himself prioritizing his twisted desires over the instinct to survive.
Eventually, as Atshen began to gravitate towards the nearby mountain range, his motivation to redirect stroke.
The smell of a fresh kill wafted past him as it rode on the current of the chilled air. Quickly, he towards the source of the alluring perfume of death, as he found himself unable to turn his nose up at the meal. After all, the wind also bore the indication that the ram's body was in the presence of another wolf and Atshen wondered if he had happened upon a two for one deal.
With motivation driving his every step, Atshen arrived on the scene quickly. Finding a wolf feeding feverishly on the corpse, Atshen observed exactly what he had anticipated to come across. The woman, for the most part, was distracted by her meal and this allowed Atshen the opportunity to consider what he would go for first. As tempting as the meat was, his desire to maim was even stronger. Though his quick killing had been a thrill, Atshen sought something that would keep his time occupied for quite some time, and he suspected that the female before him might be the ideal candidate for this.
With this goal in mind, the rugged male stepped purposefully toward Siobhan as a growl rumbled in his throat. Unlike his last game of cat and mouse, which had been a riveting experience in itself, Atshen wanted her to be aware of his presence as it would be an intestering variant of his usual routine.
RE: fires in mississippi - Siobhan - September 23, 2017
For several minutes, Siobhan loses herself. The kill is the first real thing she’s had in days, if not weeks. The small rodents she scraps by, or morsels she’d been given in her captivity, barely touched the surface to keep her going. Her stomach rumbles with a sudden discomfort but she dismisses it and continues on, finally able to think about something more than gorging herself. Plans develop on where she can store what she can’t eat and harvesting what else is left when she’s done.
They are only in the budding stages when another starts creeping up on her while she remains unaware. It is only with the growl that she stiffens, mouth full of meat and organ and blood, as she glances back to see another wolf with the same sneer her former captives used to wear. Her ears fall back against her head and she spits out—instead of gobbling—the remains as an active of submission. She droops her head and tail, carefully taking steps back through the rough ground so the other can have full access to the kill that came from the sky.
She glances to one side, and then the other, as she tries to decide which way to go should her offer of the kill be received in lieu of her freedom.