Ravenshook Cliffs winter ghost

Anyone is welcome now. I'd love to have someone hop in so that it doesn't just die. 

He was prone to the sharp incline of cliffs. The jagged, jutting rocks that erupted from the looming structure with no regard to land or sky. Kierkegaard found the terrain challenging enough to hold his interest and quiet enough that he rarely found himself in the company of others. His long legs carried him upwards along the edges of the cliffs. Fiery eyes followed the sharp drops and rises that were presented before him, and with a graceful leap, the ashen figure cleared a large gap where the side of the cliff had tumbled away. It was dangerous in spite of how enticing it was. Above him, birds cried out and spread their wings before catching the wind that whipped about overhead. Kierkegaard’s fur was tossed along his back and spine and he gritted his teeth tightly, securing his feet to the stone beneath him.
 
When the gust had subsided, the ghostly figure lowered his ragged skull towards the ground and prowled forward, picking up his pace for a moment before he found a small opening in the Cliffside. Drawing his lengthy ears forward adopt his skull, the boy’s amber gaze darted into the darkness of the cave. He did not know how deeply it jutted into the side of the cliff. Another gust of wind that threatened to knock him from his perch became the quick decider to enter the cave.
 
Casting a wary glance around him, the pale man allowed for his eyes to adjust before moving forward inside the secret cavern. There was a steady drip from the back of the cave suggesting that water was able to find its way inside. Sniffing quietly, Kierkegaard could feel his fur prickle along his spine. Once more, the wind from outside struck the opening to the cave and sent a howling through the empty bowels of the place. The Sairensu male gritted his teeth together and flattened his ears to his skull. Then, a low rumble sounded from the entrance to the cave. A storm was coming.  

Tezcacoatl had learned to walk the uneven terrain of Tartok — a name he remembered in an old echo only — numerous years ago and the wisp of knowledg he held helpled to explain how he was not easily deterred from the dangerous inclines and sharp, jagged outcroppings that one slip might cause him to tumble to his death of the Cliffs. He could not claim that such lands were his favorite per say but he traversed it because it was a path and not one that he'd taken thus yet. A few close calls but he'd survived the trek up into one of it's caves and for now, that was enough for him. The locusts had consumed everything green in their war path and the Amazon King held onto the deep rooted fear that the prey would leave these Wilds. All would know hunger. Ragnar had always pushed him to find and then test his boundaries and there had been some nights he had gone without eating due to a failed hunt and the energy he'd spent gone. He was hungry as the famine began it's siege upon the Wilds, determined to conquer everything in it's path and his resulting hunger pushed him to become as creative as he could. The pack wolves would suffer ...but he would find it harder still than them, he feared. He did not have the support of a pack behind him. Though Tezcacoatl had every intent of surviving this calamity, his odds of survival were not as high as they could be; this was something he knew.

He'd taken to the caves for shelter, and in his hunt for food. A rat would be better than a rumbling stomach and while, normally, he was quite selective he knew better than to be picky. Beggers couldn't be choosers, after all. The Rekkr was far enough inside the cave, consumed by the darkness that swathed it that he didn't notice his company as the other male entered the cave. It wasn't until the gust of wind, howling through the cave, past him and into the deep labyrinth tunnels of the cave that he caught the stranger's scent. Abruptly, Tezcacoatl turned so that he could just make out the stranger's silhouette at the cave's mouth and let out a low chuff: to alert him of his presence. Tezcacoatl was suspicious but reminded himself that this territory and all of it's secrets were free for any to come and go as they pleased.

 

i'm so sorry this post is poop. :c

No! Your post was fine. Mine's not the best though... :( still feel rusty haha.

 

The chuff from the other wolf sounded in his ears and the ashen ghost immediately felt his pelt bristle and his hackles rise along his back. Ears flattened to his head. It was too dark towards the back of the cave. His amber gaze sought out the body of a wolf but he could not make shape of one in the darkness. Instinct was to protect himself. With his ragged rangy pelt standing high along his back and spine, the pale wolf blinked once or twice before drawing his dark lips over his teeth and growling softly. He must have looked a sight. Ash and charcoal colored fur standing upright in the light shining from the entrance to the cavern. His wicked gold eyes sparking madness as he snapped his teeth together defensively. If there was another in here, he would not take kindly to surprises.
 
Drawing himself closer to the ground, Kierkegaard pushed himself just a few feet further so that he was standing in the pitch black of the cave. His eyes were adjusting far better to the lack of light in the dank hole. He tossed his head from side to side in search of the wolf. The chuff had echoed off the walls of stone and bounced back onto the Sairensu male. Whiskers twitching, he took another step forward until he could make out a dark outline of a creature further to the back.
 
The stranger was darkly marked; coated in what could only have been deep browns or fading blacks. Kierkegaard could not tell the difference in the darkness that surrounded them both. For a moment, Kierke caught sight of a flash of teal colored eyes in the light that had slipped through the opening. He peered curiously at the wolf in the cave, fur still bristling along his back. He was no more at ease than he had been before, but he did have a location on the stranger.
 
Another rumble sounded from outside. Without warning, lightning cracked through the sky, illuminating it for a moment before the roar of thunder sounded through the cave. Rain began to patter on the stone Cliffside just outside the two wolves’ hiding.

psh, your post was lovely! <3 sorry this is short!

There was little Tezcacoatl felt in the mood for these days, and perhaps his mood was simply a byproduct of the ever constant pain of hunger he'd been feeling ever since the swarm descended upon the Wilds. Regardless, he watched the pale loner descend deeper into the cave, noted the tense posture of the other that mirrored Tezcacoatl's own, not really in the mood to share. The Amazon King let out a low snort, ears perking, alert, only to slick back to his skull as lighting cracked and a loud boom caused the earth beneath his paws to quiver as it shook the earth and the smell of fresh rain rushed into the cave to accompany the sound of it against the earth above them. While Tezcacoatl would have conceded to go to a different cave, so long as it meant he could be alone he was not going to try to navigate an already treacherous terrain now made slippery by the rain. “I'm not interested in fighting you,” Tezcacoatl broke his silence, figuring it best to state his facts. “To be perfectly honest, you're not worth the energy it would cost me, and I'm not worth your energy.” Especially when Tezcacoatl had a bone deep feeling that he would need all his strength and energy for hunting, as scarce as that was proving to be. “The swarm left nothing behind them, and there lack of herds tells me they've begun to move on.” Tezcacoatl couldn't exactly say he blamed them, though.

The dark wolf spoke in terms that sounded as though they were rooted in logic. With the lack of prey in the Teekon wilds, energy was a necessity to survive through the long days. The stranger spoke that he did not want to fight Kierkegaard, and so the ashen male allowed himself to breathe for only a moment. He had not survived on his own for so long by simply trusting the word of others. Keeping a short distance between them, the Sairensu male sought the intense cool water gaze of the darker wolf. It was not until the shadow male mentioned ‘the swarm’ that Kierke drew his ears forward and frowned deeply. The bodies of locusts still littered the land.
 
“I have been gone for a year,” his baritone struck through the cave with a ragged crack. “A lot has changed.” And it had. The world that he had left behind had been lush and lively. The Teekon wilds seemed to have crawled into the depths of hell in his absence. Though he did not think his leaving had anything to do with nature and the turn of the land. It was merely remarkable that the steadiness of the wilds had found turmoil.

The rain that poured upon the coast was salt on wounds left by the swarm. For Ayer, at least. Part of him was happy that the earth was receiving much needed-moisture, the other part, angry that he had to deal with this now. It was as if there were gods above whom were angry with them all, sending droves of locusts first, then this torrential downpour. The ghostly male wandered the rocky coast on quick paws, though his movements were slower than he would have preferred, the rain-slicked rocks trecherous beneath his footsteps. His pale coat was soaked and dirty-looking, far different from its usual pristine beauty, but his bloody eyes blazed as never before. He was on the lookout for shelter.

Ironically, he never would have found it, had not the blue-eyed shadow of a wolf nearly knocked him down on its way out of a cavern.

Ayer's initial reaction was a shriek and a high-pitched snarl, his face twisting into an angry grimace. But the darker male was soon gone from view and Ayer was able to quell his anger, turning his focus into the cave from which the stranger had fled. Faster than before, now that he knew shelter was close at hand, the snowy boy ran toward the crevase, stopping only when he was safe inside and giving his coat a shake. As water droplets flung from his fur his red eyes met those of fiery gold, belonging to a male whose coat was just as pale as his. It was almost as if he had run straight into his own reflection. Ayer paused mid-shake, startled, and folded his ears against his skull. He lowered his posture as well, in a show of submission and no intention of harm. This man who looked so much like him must have terrified the fleeing brown wolf, and was not one to be messed with.

S-sorry. I just wanted to get out of the rain... he spoke gently, his tongue laced with apology for any disturbance he may have caused.

I hope this  is alright with you! I thought it'd be funny since they look  so similar!

No! Thank you so much for joining. (:

It seemed as though the dark-furred wolf could not find comfort in such a closed space. Kierkegaard did not bother to stop the beast before he departed without so much as another word. The privacy of the cavern was far more enjoyable than the presence of unsolicited strangers. Though, the ghostly brute had always considered this a truth. His solitary lifestyle had cast aside all thoughts of companionship. The only body who had travelled alongside him had shared his blood. But he thought of Signe for a moment and felt a strange sensation in the pit of his gut. He had taken the dark-furred pup and made her his own. She had grown, he knew, and perhaps the antisocial nature of her upbringing had caused her to leave. The Sairensu male was certain that he had given her the right tools to fend for herself.
 
A snarl and shriek pierced the silence of the hole in the mountain. Kierkegaard drew his lengthy ears forward and cast his golden gaze in the direction of the opening. He moved to block the entrance, but the steps he had taken were not made in haste and he found himself peering into the red eyes of another wolf. Peeling his dark lips over his canines, the ghost took a dominant stance immediately after sighting the unwanted company. He had already rid himself of one.
 
The wolf stammered on about wanting to escape the rain. Kierke snorted sharply and shook his head. “I’ve already rid myself of unwanted company,” he snarled in response, holding fast to the ground he had taken. His golden gaze did not leave the face of the other wolf. The fur along his neck and shoulders rose threateningly and he flattened his ears to his skull.

The stranger had moved toward the entrance and soon towered over Ayer's groveling form. He was just as tall as Ayer, so it took more effort than usual to grovel as he was. Snarled words echoed slightly against the walls of the cave and Ayer slunk even lower, his belly nearly touching the ground, eyes wide and large as a doe's. They darted back and forth as he mentally composed a plan for how to deal with this problem. He could fight the male; they were well-matched, but Ayer was nto a bloodthirsty wolf, and he did not think shelter from the rain was worth a fight.

In lieu of getting his ass kicked, the boy decided to try appealing to any
sensitivities that the male may have had, one last time, and if it did not work, he would flee the cave and search for another. His plan devised, Ayer swallowed and begged, "Please?" His voice was low and soft as ever. "I, er, I won't speak to you. I'll w-wait at the mouth of the cave, if you like. Just...just until the storm passes."

The pale wolf seemed to lower himself at the sight of Kierkegaard’s snapping canines. His unfamiliar red gaze was wide and the fur along his back spiked. Though the ashen brute did not seem to care much for the show of submission – they were both without pack – he could feel a burning in his gut that surprised him. A hunger that pressed on his mind and offered thoughts that would not have normally come to the ghostly savage. The Sairensu had the advantage of placement; his body was tucked well inside the cavern and was not likely to be knocked through the opening. However, the ruby-eyed wolf could be forced outside… thrown from the edge of the cliff. It would be easy to appear an accident and though they were both starved of prey, Kierkegaard knew that he would feed well on this other wolf.
 
The trembling words struck his ears, and Kierkegaard’s fiery gaze snapped to the other male. He was already tense and driven to a point of desperation that most would not easily identify with. Drawing his flush-colored tongue across his lips, he took a single step backwards and peered dominantly at the other stranger. “You will leave as soon as the rain subsides,” he snarled.