Haunted Wood never make a change

For my poop-poop-Emaleeeeeeeee ♥ Set early morning.

An audible crunch resonated through the darkly wooded territory, swallowed by the plethora of trees that held an awkward silence. Large molars worked the aged bone with disinterest, mechanical response prompted by the churn of empty stomach. It seemed a rather canid thing to be lured from boredom by the chomping and gnashing of teeth and the wolf was no exception. Monotonous coat of black tucked nicely into the shadows of the wood, a blanket of dampness swathing the undergrowth as it often did before the sun's rise. 

At last the old, calcium riddled bone splintered. Though the insides were dry and fetid, nostrils brushed over each little pinnacle of the abandoned husk, painting a picture of the surface in mind's eye. It was a flippant attempt to keep knowledge keen and often a default habit from years of crazed instruction. Tongue softly braised the surface, sampling the distinct flavor of the creature it once belonged to before decaying out in the emptiness. It wasn't appropriate to simply eat one's food. Not by the laws of the Speakers, in any event. 

A faint inhale drew in the various dialogue the object delivered. It exposed what had perhaps slain the creature and those that had dined on the flesh prior to its demise to the forest's forgotten floor. At last incisors scratched against the slimy marrow, or what little it actually possessed, feeling an emptiness within the wolf's core that had not been there prior to sampling the wares.

The Wilds were larger than she had been expecting. As much as she wanted to see it all before she decided to settle somewhere, the approaching winter was a cause of anxiety. She'd need to find somewhere to live— and soon— or else it would be unlikely that she saw next spring. It was too late to return to the Blackthorns in time, and as optimistic as she was, she didn't think she could survive alone in the coldest months. Still... she thought she could spend a few more days exploring, getting a feel for the wolves that lived here, and then she'd focus on finding the necessary shelter.

Her exploration took her from the Sunspire to the southern territories, and eventually into a forest with sweeping willows, peeling birches, and gnarled oaks. Bright oranges and reds erupted over the trees canopy, and as the early morning fog dissipated and gave way to a light rain, Tail ducked beneath the shelter of the trunks. She imagined this place would be unnerving at night, but with dawn's light filtering through the dying leaves, a warm light seemed to fill the territory.

She wove through the trees, enjoying a peaceful stroll, until she began to hear the gnawing sound of teeth on bone. Not uncommon amongst wolves, the yearling assumed it was one of her brethren. Rather than go the opposite direction, she zeroed in on it until she came upon a dark form cleaning out an old bone. He seemed to be made of oil, and she could not glean much from his scent except that he was wolf and male.

Though it was likely he had already heard her approach, she gave a disarming woof in greeting.

Hope this is ok! ;__;

Keen ears distinguished a faint rustle of leaf litter that did not initially prompt a lift of head. Triangle-shaped listening devices did sway to capture approximate weight of the creature, distance, and other such pertinent details. From the corner of one molten eyeball, the wolf spotted a figure appear from the occult swathes of fog still clutching to the forest floor. It wasn't until a faint call had broken the hushed silence that the animal finally draped a paw across bone and lifted gaze towards the transient.

She was immediately decent to gaze upon with chiseled features kissed in a saddle of black. Coal marks beneath each sea-colored eye bore an accent that distinctly set this wolf apart from other agouti acquaintances. For a small moment no words were spoken. A casual observance began, absorbing any detail that was uniquely hers. "They bury bodies here," he said out loud, a quiet tone that carried through the emptiness without having to overtly try at volume. It seemed an appropriate topic according to their setting. 

In efforts to exude accommodation the lanky wolf stood in a fluid push of sinuous limbs. Bits of oak leaf and hollow acorn clung to coat but no effort was made to dislodge them with a shake or other unsightly body movement. "Lost?" he wondered out loud, though not enough effort was given towards inflection to sound convinced she was. As if to punctuate the question an odd shift of gaze scouted about the immediate area.

He seemed odd, but Tail wasn't one to begrudge someone their quirks - at least not upon first meet. She was still naive, and though she knew the territorial nature of wolves, Tail had yet to be harmed or threatened by one of her species. In her mind, and certainly in her upbringing amongst the Blackthorns, so long as you behaved and obeyed the instinctual laws of the wolf, there was little true danger. And so her black tail swept lowly, a gesture of friendliness, as the dark male rose to address her. Of beauty and handsomeness, Tail had little inkling - though she desired a family, her loins had yet to truly stir.

Oh? she queried, with a raised brow. The comment of buried bodies didn't faze her, for death was part of life. In her journey to the Wilds, she had come across the corpses of many poor souls - loners, like herself, that had starved and been devoured by scavenger. That was simply the way things were. And so she asked, Why bury them? What was the point?

To his next question, she responded, Not lost. It's raining out there, and I came here to avoid it. I heard you, so I thought I'd come say hello. She shrugged, an ear coming to alertness as she gazed at him. I'll leave if I'm disturbing you.

The stranger's facial expression displayed a quizzical lift of eye ridge. The wolf peered as the small charcoal marks beneath each eye swayed with the conversation. The drifter didn't place too much question of the sincerity of her tone until another question was presented. It poked at the reasoning that had been ingrained within the inky beast since birth. "To keep them from coming back," he responded almost cautiously. A cunning squint of features raked over the counterpart draped in mist. 

Ears tutted at the explanation of seeking cover from the rain, unfazed, personally, by the sky's tears. "Hello," he responded in kind, adhering (for once in his life) a rather neutral introduction towards a stranger. Her request to leave did not garner an answer, a simple tilt of jawline sufficed as response to her query there. There was plainly no desire to see the distant female off just so soon. Silence charged the damp atmosphere for a short spell. "Do you know this place?" he asked with a somewhat indifferent tone to disguise actual interest. As if the woods could convey their own conversation, gaze swept upwards to the gnarled and wild oaks. They were an ancient type and their importance in lore had always garnished fascination.

"I've never been," he admitted conversationally, splaying ears back to scent the air and expose luxurious throat in some sordid attempt at flirtation.

The way his orange gaze followed her might have unnerved another wolf, but Tail accepted it without much reaction— she had yet to truly understand attraction, and merely attributed it meeting a stranger. After all, she would be lying if she asserted that she was not curious about him as well. Most of her life had been surrounded by relatives, and it was refreshing to speak to such varied strangers. At his explanation, her brows furrowed; she was not spiritual, and though she enjoyed a good story, she wasn't prone to believing them without proof.

But he said it with such sincerity that she merely nodded in acceptance. It wasn't her place to challenge the beliefs of a total stranger.

"My name is Tail," she offered, after he greeted her in turn. "I don't," the yearling responded. Her blue-gray eyes watched with curiosity as he stretched to display his throat. It seemed an odd gesture, but once more, Tail believed it was merely a difference of culture— she took it as a sign of trust, and lowered her head and ears in a returning gesture.

Then she sat, and offered a grin. "I'm new here, actually. Decided to seek my own fortune, or something like that." Tail shrugged. "What brings you here?" The forest, the Wilds... she left it open.

There was no further continuance in the regard of the dead and thus the topic was dropped. It wasn't a topic, perhaps, to pursue in unknown company. The offer of a name was met with a faint twitch of tail in acknowledgement. Though there was disappointment at the lack of knowledge in the land, it was met smoothly with a flick of ear and understanding nod. 

As the female tucked haunches beneath her to sit, the lanky creature responded in kind. With a fold of foreleg the inky beast lay sphinx-like with one paw curled beneath chest. A subtle display of comfort. "They call me Grim," he responded as though the title meant little. The demeaning name had been a perpetual blemish amidst lore-named siblings. The talk of fortune caused glinting eyes to open slightly. What was this?

"Treasure?" he repeated rhythmically. "What do you call treasures here?" he wondered in genuine interest thinly veiled in casual conversation. Though not very family oriented the wolf was something of a collector. There had been times of tribulation simply over possessing a pretty object. 

Her return question was met with a slight pause, debating on answering truthfully or creating a fable worth listening to. Rather, a roll of inky shoulders produce a flippant shrug. "Exploring. For treasures," he added coyly, a little grin flitting across features before subsiding into neutrality. "Will you show me?" he teased with a tilt of jaw in hopes the rugged expression would persuade her fully.

He relaxed into a comfortable, but regal, position as she sat— and for a moment, Tail forgot any quirks she had been subconsciously cataloguing. "They call me Grim," he told her, and this she also accepted in silence. It was an odd name, but so was hers. Names had little bearing on the wolf they belonged to, in her experience. He perked up with her mention of fortune; she watched his eyes widen, though she couldn't begin to fathom why. At least, not until he spoke in response.

"Oh," she said, feeling her ears go hot for some inexplicable reason. "Well... I meant, like, starting my own family and leading my own pack someday." For some reason, that explanation made her feel more silly than if she had been searching for pots of gold. "I come from a large family," she explained, "so large that I was just a nobody in a sea of nobodies. I left because I want to change that." Tail shrugged, then fell quiet. She was usually social, but wasn't normally a babbler.

"What kind of treasure are you looking for?" Tail finally questioned. "I can't promise I'll know where to find it, but I'll help you look." His attempts at flirtation were lost on the poor yearling, who hadn't even had her first crush yet— not something likely to happen amongst relatives, at least not in the Blackthorn clan's culture. Still, she thought he was friendly and aimed to return the temperament.

The mention of family, starting a life, and other such milestones caused a tilt of head. Questioning. It was unlike the inky drifter to see such things as fortune due to poor upbringing. The meaning behind this thought process still eluded the wanderer. Perhaps it always would. There was more to the female's story and the wolf listening quietly without prejudice or judgement. If anything, the explanation was fascinating, for how similar it mirrored the dark male's own struggle with worth and importance. "Oh," he mimicked. 

Her interest in his interest prompted tail to wag just slightly in the grass, a glint of eye and a leveling of muzzle regarding her once more with very rapt intrigue. "Shiny things. Things rare or glittering. Anything that really catches the eye," came the explanation, standing swiftly in one motion to inch a little closer to the charcoal-dusted yearling. "Do fortunes reside at your living establishment?" he questioned slyly, accentuating the overzealous words in a sudden shift of formality. "I'll follow," he mentioned. What he was following for was up to the female. To her house. To her treasure trove. To anything, really. 

Paws flirted ever closer, removing the wide gap between the two in a very silky breach of trust, hoping the mannerism was just tender enough to remain nonchalant.

sorry for not finishing this up before my vacation! my last post.

Perhaps it was the questioning, tilt of his head that had made her feel so flustered. Tail didn't realize it was his lack of understanding that caused the behavior, believing instead that he thought her silly and childish. For some reason, she cared a great deal about that— and she felt relieved when he merely responded with a gentle, "Oh."

Instinctively, she stood and took a small step back as the male drew close to her. His words were odd to her, and in her innocence she didn't understand the allusion in his question. "I don't have a home," she answered with a shrug, unaware of how dangerous that admission might be. "I'm not really sure where to find anything shiny, either..." Tail trailed off, frowning. "I'm sorry that I can't be more help."

She felt suddenly... weird about the entire exchange, perhaps finally sensing that something wasn't quite right or honest. "I'd better get going, anyway. A friend's expecting me." Tail hoped that explanation would be taken well, and with a farewell nod, she turned to leave. She would glance over her shoulder from time to time as she left the area, but if he truly did follow, the yearling didn't notice.