Meadowlark Prairie egregious, made a dude want to find jesus

He snaked out across the prairie, nothing more than an earthy blot against a stark and bland cover. Covering a fair amount of land was not really his best suit, but he figured there were far less interesting things to be doing. It was still cold as he headed in some northeastern direction, but then again it was pretty distinct what season he had rolled into finally. Winter was by far one of the more harsher times in the world but it was still a scavenger's time to shine, at least as far as he was concerned. There were all sorts of uncovered treasure troves poorly covered, and the melting snow of the midday had yet to reveal them to him.

He had come out to the field in search of something small to pick off the nagging edge of hunger, though it was more out of a necessity to find fuel to keep going than anything. And from what he had gathered in his snaking, skirting little trek up into the plains so far was that this place was not absent of larger predators than he. He had seen bear tracks, crisscrossed over some cougar prints, and of course there were plenty of the larger canine cousin around to keep him leery of what lied around the next bend.

So when the prairie had opened up to him, he had come out there. Sure, there was a general lack of cover but he felt it would not hide anything from him. If any one of those potential threats came swooping in, it would have been difficult for him to not to pick up on them in the same way they would him. He paused here and there briefly, each time swinging his muzzle skyward to test out the breeze, and it turned up little. Nothing half rotten upwind of him, but nothing that screamed interest either.

grieves — kidding me

It’s unlike Sollie to be so far away from her family, where the protection of the other foxes in the forest are there to protect her.  With winter upon them, finding food isn’t the easiest and Sollie’s stomach growled so loudly earlier that morning that she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll get on without eating something.  It had only been a day since she’d eaten last.  Her brother acts fine, of course, but that’s for show, right?  The girl rolls her eyes and, with an argument fresh on her heals from her siblings, that she’s out of the forest.  Even during the day.  A few hours and night would be upon them but, nonetheless, now that she’s this far out, she’s a little concerned.

She’s not entirely sure how far she’s going to go but as she creeps through the prairie, a little on edge.  Her head sweeps back and forth, taking a few more steps and skittering back into the brush for a little while longer.  The sight of the coyote only surprises her not that she’s run into someone, but running into someone so long after she’d left.  She passed by a pack a little while ago and didn’t notice anyone else and here, in an otherwise empty meadow, she’s trying to hide.  The grass crunches beneath her feet then she stumbles through a hole in the ground and out into the open.

wherein i discover i have never really pinned down a steady personality for him, NOT THAT IT MATTERS BECAUSE AFTER THIS I HAVE TO WRITE A DEATH THREAD W/E #YOLO

"Meh, this place sucks," he said suddenly, of course to no one in particular. While the expanse of valley is obviously teeming with others, Rickshaw hadn't the best luck in finding them. Or being found, which of course he didn't want to be found. At least not necessarily; another coyote would have been all right, but he didn't want to go toe to toe with some moronic ursine thinking he was tonight's free hot meal.

He didn't get to dwell on his thoughts about how little he thought of the place, because there was one sound that found itself captured in his satellite dish sized ears — crunchy. Crunchy? Definitely crunchy — and there it was: a fox. The splash of obnoxious orange against the backdrop of such bleak and uninspiring seasonal colors was hard to miss. If Rickshaw was a heat-seeking missile, the fox was definitely a target.

His jaws unhinged to make sound, though for a moment nothing out than the silent and dumbfounded display he was making. Looking nothing short of a rubbernecking loon, he clicked his jaws shut and came forward rough, stomping through the wilted brush with curiosity written clear as day across his features. "Hey, foxy!" he catcalled. "Boy are you a sight for sore eyes!" In fact, she burned the ever loving fuck out of his.

"Where you goin' with them dark socks, lady?" And Christ Almighty he hoped she wouldn't bolt.

She probably would, though.

Sollie doesn’t get the pleasure of going unnoticed—she’d stumbled a little too hard—drawing the attention of the coyote not too far away.  He turns around immediately and she scrambles to her feet, shuffling back a few steps as he approaches, jaws clicking to what she feels like is the same rhythm of her heartbeat.  After a deafening few seconds, Sollie realizes he’s talking to her.  She stiffens, stumbling back a few more steps and crashing through snow too quickly to keep on her feet.

She freezes, eyes widening as she tries to comprehend the words.  

“I… um.  I was go— ” she stutters, unsure what she’s supposed to say.  “I’m hungry.” 

What was the question?

Where he had hoped for a little sass, a little fire to light up his world, he instead got someone who went stumbled over their words and stammered out mismatched dialogue. His ears splayed, though one soon righted itself as she proclaimed that she was hungry. Yeah, he knew that sensation all too well for himself, but he was a natural born garbage compactor in his own right. Foxes, at least to him, seemed to dainty to go about picking at half-rotten morsels like they were spoils of victory.

"Oh, you and me both sweets," he moaned, giving his coat a hearty shake. Yes, poor Rickshaw, nothing more than just a bag of bones. At least his ears could have comically been likened to bows. "Bet you know where to find something good to eat though, right? Don't hold out on me now chickadee, I don't care if it's rotten to the core. Suits me just fine," and somehow his pathetic moaning had gone characteristically sly.