Duskfire Glacier trash to the curb

Weather: 15°F, Foggy. Snow (2-5 inches) throughout the day.

It had grown colder, and Dune could feel it. Snow sprinkled the glacier he was currently padding across, and he blinked away snowflakes as they landed on his eyelashes. When one landed on his nose, he snorted it away, a plume of vapor exiting his nostrils in a huff. The chill was definitely worse than it had been the last few days, and he wondered how much longer he could survive on his own. Eventually, he would need to join others in order to secure his survival.

A sound caught his attention, and he turned to see a lone mountain goat wandering nearby. He took a hasty step toward it, but then Dune thought better of it. The goat looked healthy and strong, two things which made it less than an ideal target. He stood and watched the horned creature disappear into the increasingly heavy snow, then continued on his way.

In the year following her departure from Teekon wilds, Foxglove had spent her time near a rubbish dump she had ran accross one day and decided not to leave such a good source for free food so soon. Many lazy and pointless months later, the owners of the place decided that they weren't quite happy with the vermin that were scavenging around the place. And, when poisoning them did not work (though Foxglove had watched, how some rats, foxes and cats died from internal bleeding), they used guns. And where there were guns, there Foxglove fled without a second look back.

In the months that followed days alternated between rather good ones and pretty bad ones. Junebell, whose mindset was more suited for the survival in the wilds, had fallen silent after one particularly violent episode of seizures. Ever since - for the first time in her life - Foxglove was all alone. Luckily for a wolf her size she did not need much food to live on, therefore she managed - always on the edge of famine - but managed. And on the day, when after weeks of solitude she finally caught sight of another living soul, she mournfully observed, how a mountain goat, who was doing far better than the lanky and lean predator, ran off.

A moment later the dappled she-wolf spotted a wolf coming her way and knowing well that she would not be able to outrun him, if he were to chase her, she remained, where she was.

The chill in the air stuck with him, and Dune had a feeling he would need to curl up soon to preserve heat and energy if he planned on staying alive through the day. If he did so, the snow would create insulation around him and he could remain much warmer for an extended period of time, at least until the sun came out of hiding and warmed the earth again. As he was searching for a suitable spot, however, it was another wolf that caught his attention. She was of average build, though a bit thin, and her coloration was quite different from anything he'd ever seen.

The stranger didn't appear to be moving toward him, though she was facing him and seemed to notice his existence. Dune paused where he was, contemplating his next move for a few seconds before letting out a half-bark, half-howl in her direction, inviting her to come closer if that was her desire.

The stranger seemed friendly enough, when he took notice of Foxglove. Even invited her to come closer and say a proper "hello", if she wished to. The she-wolf pondered a little about the last part of the previous sentence and then shrugged. What had she got to lose - even if this would turn out to be a bad idea and she became the man's meal, that would be a far better death than wasting away in the wilderness.

Carefully, keeping her body and tail low she neared the man and came to a halt, when she was few feet away from him. Not knowing, what to say now, she remained silent and simply looked at the man, hoping that perhaps he was better at conversations.

If he had known the thought of him eating her had crossed her mind, he would have been shocked. Eating another wolf wasn't something he had ever even considered, even when his belly growled loudly with hunger. Cannibalism was something that would have turned his stomach rather than causing him to salivate. Instead, he saw this new companion as a possible tool in order to fill his belly with more suitable food. The goat was likely too strong and healthy for them, but two bodies were almost always better than one when it came to finding and catching food.

She looked at him expectantly, and he considered that the go-ahead to start up a dialogue with her. "Hungry?" he asked, his own voice feeling somewhat foreign to him. "Hunt?" Where Dune came from, words were few and far between, and he was unaccustomed to the more conversational tone that many of the locals took on.

The fact that he began to talk with her rather than springing right to action was somewhat relieving, therefore Foxglove gave a half-hearted sway with her tail to tell that she had no ill intentions either. Just in case it mattered. 

He also did not seem to be very elaborate, when it came to using words and conveying a message, which to a person, who had not spoken to another living being for a very long time, was also a relief. She would not know, what to tell, if asked about her previous life (people in her experience were very curious about others around them), or what her plans were for the future.

She was happy to survive another day and wake up in the morning. That worked for now - perhaps in summer she might have more space to think ahead. "Yes," she replied and in response to the second inquiry. "Too weak."

She didn't seem to think she was capable of hunting, which was a very, very bad sign. Once a wolf lost its ability to hunt, what chance did it have to survive? He gave her a pitiful, worried look, wondering if she would make it even one more day in this world. Still, there were other ways to procure sustenance, and Dune felt a sliver of compassion for the girl. Perhaps this was what had been calling him here: the desire to help others.

"Come," he said, and he turned left and began walking, eyes searching the sky rather than his nose stuck to the ground. He had seen crows flying this way, and the scavengers often pointed the way to carrion. Hopefully, that would be the case this time, too. Dune glanced back to see if his new acquaintance was following him.

Foxglove did not obey right away - she let the man walk few feet ahead and only after coming to the realization that she had nothing to lose and a slight chance to gain something, did she begin to follow the white wolf. She wondered, what did this fellow have in mind and why would he want to help (if that was, what he was really about to do) a total stranger, that looked like owing the death itself something. For a moment she felt like asking, but then decided against breaking the silence between them. He had not seemed to be very talkative and she - well - she did not want to know the truth, if it turned out to be rather unpleasant.

Therefore she kept quiet and followed.

She followed, though he was aware of her hesitation. If she did not wish to follow, she could have stayed put, but she had made her choice (and continued to make it with each step). He trudged forward through the wind and snow, eyes blinking furiously as he tried to keep them open and on the lookout for the black winged birds that were often the sign of nearby food. They went on like this for a good thirty minutes until Dune finally heard the screech of the creature and saw one of the black beaks circling over something up ahead.

"There," he said, gesturing in the general direction of the scavenger. Below the circling birds was a lump of an object that had once been a deer. It had died of starvation, taken by the cold that had settled in the Teekon Wilds the past several nights. Its eyes were frozen open, much of its entrails had been eaten by the birds, which cawed mercilessly and scattered anxiously as the two wolves approached. The meat was frozen solid, but it was better than nothing. Dune tore off a hunk after much effort, then tossed it to the golden-eyed stranger. No words were needed, for the intention was clear: Eat.

Dune turned his attention back to the frozen deer and began pulling off a strip for himself, gnawing on the hard, frozen flesh. It melted slowly in his mouth, and although it tasted like nothing more than rocks to him, Dune chewed and swallowed.

Foxglove was neither blind, nor deaf - the moment she heard the telltale sound of crows quarreling and fighting over a fallen body, she realized, where the white wolf was taking her and why. It puzzled her though that he was so civil to her and what were the reasons behind that. In her not too long life she had not met any selfless person. There was always a motive and maybe in time she would find out his. 

But right now she put the doubts aside, attacking the tossed piece of meat ravenously and bringing it further away from the other one. The food, frozen solid, didn't taste like anything and it was difficult to pick it away one piece after the other, but she cared little. For all Foxglove knew now - she was not going to leave this corpse, until there was nothing but bare bones left here.

As far as motives went, Dune was not even sure himself what his was. He knew that having friends was better than having enemies, and this particular stranger had done nothing to harm or upset him. Besides, she looked like she would not last another day without meat, and the thought of another of his kin perishing to starvation was an unpleasant one. Dune continued to gnaw at the carcass, occasionally ripping of a hunk of meat for the other wolf and tossing it her direction.

The crows continued to circle overhead, and occasionally one would swoop down to try and grab a bite, but Dune was quick to snap at them and shoo them off yet again. Clearly they were none-too-pleased with that, but they would be allowed to pick at the bones once he and his friend had gotten everything they could off the deer. As he ate, warmth began to flow through him more freely, and he felt his energy returning to him. It was incredible how quickly food worked to restore his health, and he glanced at his companion to see if she was feeling the same effects.

Dune's stomach was better at processing food than Foxglove's was. She had not had a decent meal in a very long time, therefore the immediate satisfaction for the amount of meat she had now was soon exchanged for nausea. The wolf began to retch and threw up - hardly chewed, ice-cold pieces of meat, as well as some grass she had eaten a day prior mixed with sticky saliva and stomach juice. The wolf looked down at the discarded food mournfully, then began to pick it up - piece by piece and eat it again.

Last one for me; thanks for the thread! ^_^

She wolfed down her food (pun intended), but quickly after doing so, she chucked it back up. Dune's concern grew, but she began to eat it again. He had a strong feeling that she would not make it through the winter. If she did, she would not get to spring without some major scars. He felt pity for her, but he knew that for his own sake he could not be the one to carry her through. He was, after all, a lone wolf, and two wolves did not make a pack. She would need to find her own way.

Once Dune had eaten as much of the meat as he could handle, he sat back on his haunches, flexing his jaw muscles. They, along with his gums, were sore from eating the frozen meat, but he knew it was better than continuing to eat snow. He felt warmer, stronger, and healthier in general. Dune turned to his acquaintance and gestured toward the rest of the carcass. "Yours," he said, with no further explanation and leaving no room for argument. "Take care."

With no fanfare, Dune began to head off in a general southwest direction, leaving the near-stranger to her food.