Blacktail Deer Plateau the longing of the dead

within the recesses of the trees, after the moon had risen high into the darkened sky, taltos had pursued a stag and his does. a striking absence of fawns among the herd had not deterred the spirit, who had been stricken with an overinflated sense of self during the inexorable trudge of nightfall.

and so he had followed them, and roused them from their rest. at length, the stag whirled to lower antlers toward the pursuer, but lasher had lunged at him with a throated snarl and the animal had lost his nerve and quite nearly his footing. weaving between the hard tree-boles, taltos had seized with long teeth the straining haunch of a young doe with a slight but unfortunate limp, and attempted to use his bulk to trip her.

he succeeded only in halting her steps, and while her fellows thundered on, the epsilon vied terribly with the flailing hooves and wild, rolling eyes of the doe, narrowed in pain and terror upon him. she would not buckle, however, but he was loathe to release her, and so continued to struggle with his would-be victim, heart thrumming as his energies peaked and began to swiftly fall.

his breathing laboured, taltos yanked savagely at the doe's haunch, but felt his grasp sliding, fangs cutting runnels in her flesh. chiding himself coldly for having entered such a conundrum, his murkwater eyes rolled as he heard the swift steps of a wolf approaching. the doe's cries were summarily cut off as dante's scent filled the delta's head, and he released her body to the earth, running salmon tongue along the more pained parts of his jawline.

you are a savior! lasher exulted, eyes bright with excitement and the still-near tread of adrenaline. lowering his muzzle, he scented the doe and the hot meat beneath her flesh, giving silent thanks to whatever deities were near for the kill.

no, lasher answered, rather enjoying the way that the surplus of energy poured from dante, lighting his eyes so that the joyous spirit of the beast shone through plainly. on a whim, he wondered what dante would think of an outright suggestion to join himself in the shadows of the forest. the other had seemed accepting of many things, eloquent, amiable — but of course these aspects did not mean that the silver male would accept such.

i suppose i am intending to seize the last fine hunting before the winter comes and drives the prey upward, into the foothills and mountains. in the flatlands, they will not stay — there will be no shelter for them in the snowy months. at length he gave a dismissive gesture with raised forepaw. of course you know these things, dante, taltos added with a quirk of humour. come; how have you been?

while peregrine was very satisfactory to lasher indeed, the gentle nature that emanated from dante intrigued the servant, and he had long wondered if the man might be persuaded toward more exotic realms. and yet it was a thought with which he only toyed — for now. perhaps in time he would gather the boldness to ask peregrine his opinion of unions outside the triad.

life has been quite well, he answered with a smiling flash of teeth. i am interested in seeing what the springtime will bring — children, perhaps?

the servant wondered if dante had an eye for any particular woman in the pack, mated or otherwise. he did not seem the sort to lust without the formal confines of a luxurious, lengthy courtship. however, it was quite possible the gentle soul had been undergoing such a thing unbeknownst to the pack. a tender thought indeed.

i do prefer autumn to the winter, taltos mused aloud. it was the beauty, the quiet fall of sunset-hued leaves, the wind that rose to nip one's bones but did not lash them with the frigid fire of the blizzards he remembered all too well. we will fare easily, he decided, tipping a playfully challenging glance at his handsome peer.

he shook his head ruefully. i do not recall. the memory of yesteryear has faded in my mind. i was with another pack and we faded into the mountains for the winter. it cannot be worse than the winters of my youth, however, far from here. while dante was tactful, lasher was curious. are you accustomed to the cold, dante? he wondered at the precipitation with which the other was familiar; he himself recalled the deep snows in the glen.

nor am i, lasher revealed. i prefer the autumn to any other season. spent upon tartok, the time of biting winds and changing leaves had been harsh, but none so much as the winter there, with snow piled into every crevasse, impeding movement as well as hunting. you have not found a den yet? he inquired politely, though he did not attempt to hide his surprise.

dante had resided at the plateau almost as long as himself — lasher had found a den quickly, though the weather would decide if he would move to a more sheltered location for the winter. dante had done no such thing, apparently intending to weather the seasons in the open, and taltos thought quite amusedly to himself that the man's coat and appearance had not suffered the arrows of torrential rain and scalding heat.

the man grinned. there is nothing wrong with being a heathen, taltos joked; indeed, he thought of himself as such. there were things of paganism dante could not know, though lasher would be happy to teach him, and it reminded the murk-eyed male that there were several aspects of the gentleman with which he was not acquainted.

if you would like help, i am almost always available, he said softly. taltos enjoyed the time spent in dante's company, for the other had a kind soul, sensed easily through his words, tangible in its outreach. after a moment's pause, the earthen servant spoke curiously, lightly: are you a believer in the gods, dante?