The Sunspire Tried to do[m]esticate you

marked mature for mature discussion of assault etc.

Takeshi had caught himself a fish among the streams of the mountains, something medium that was good enough for him. He picked it apart, little bones snapping, devouring the meat until he had his fill. A couple of scales and a touch of blood still clung to his lips, but he swiped over with a tongue, clearing most of it away. He tossed what remained of his meal back into the stream, and then continued onward, following its path down stony slopes.

She hadn’t stopped. Brushed off metaphorical sleeves as though nothing had happened, and it was back to business, and now business meant traveling solo along the mountainside. Sleep felt dangerous. Rainfall from the previous night still clung to her coat; she hadn’t bothered shaking it off. Onward, only onward.

Exactly what possessed Finley to climb higher still up the Sunspire was, like many things of recent concern, far beyond her conscious awareness. The reasoning bobbed along downstream, bones in the water, bumping to and fro against the stones.

Fish bones, she noted. A light breeze downwind carried the faintest trace of blood. Recent. The predator was close.

hsfscxv if I messed up locations forgive me I cannot imagine physical existence LOL

 

She moved quietly, in a way that might've gone entirely undetected by the ghost, if he hadn't settled for a temporary rest. He had just laid down when an ear flicked up curiously, sensing some noise in the silence; he lifted his head from his paws again. Stormblue gaze shifted upstream until he caught the sight of a distant figure, and soon he was risen to his feet again. From here he could not yet catch whether the scent was male or female, but he began to move toward them without hesitation regardless. One hunger had been satisfied, but the other still longed for more.

no worries, you’re good! here is an extremely detailed and proportional diagram of what I’m imagining; lmk if I need to change anything :>

Oh, fuck. With just as much purpose the stranger rose, moved, towards her—what, not one for hello, either? Instinct tugged at the hairs along Finey’s neck; she forced them down. Dead giveaways of wariness were neither becoming nor wise.

“May I help you.” Something resembling a question pulled at her tone; preceding silence kept its impact negligible. Whatever this wolf wanted, at least he came straight for the point. Finley’s stance shifted, firm, senses roaring alive at last. On one side, a stream; on the other and elsewhere, cascading mountains. Who had the high ground? Did it matter? Not to him.