Grouse Thicket Lions in the wild

Not many of the woodland's resident fowl remained and, in fact, when the grouse he attempted to pounce took wing and flapped off into the distance, Peregrine was convinced it was the very last one. He spent the next half an hour scouring the sparse trees for another, only to come up entirely empty-handed. Like everywhere else, this place was desolate, barren of flora and fauna.

Feeling frustrated, tired and perpetually hungry, the large black wolf slumped down beneath the scanty shade of an old oak tree, absently licking his sore and cracked paw pads as he gazed dimly off into the trees.

@Cypher

Link to roll.

She left what she was beginning to think of as her odd little isle, though even she has to admit that's a bit delusional. Cypher's in no condition to lead a pack, and there's no other wolves at her back to support the claim. Still, there's an odd sting and panic in her chest as she crosses over the eastern river-- a territorialness intensified by hunger. She's been able to find enough small game to sustain herself, just barely, but the lack of hearty red meat is staring to wear on her chipper demeanor.

She thinks maybe she'll find something in these woodlands, and she does; but it's another drifter like herself, at least as far as she knows. Cypher gives him a wide berth, her golden-orange eyes sullen and wary.

Despite his all-consuming hunger, Peregrine didn't react to the first flash of movement through the trees. He blinked, looking a bit dimwitted, then suddenly snapped into a razor-sharp focus. He pressed to all fours even as the figure glided slightly closer, then stopped and began arcing around the space where he stood. He only caught a glimpse of a trim, brown figure there, a flash of golden eyes there, and he immediately thought, Coyote.

He wasn't desperate enough to feed on fellow wolves yet but he would make so such distinction for his smaller cousins. Biting back a guttural snarl, the leonine wolf launched himself in the direction of the smaller beast, crashing through stripped brush like a bull charging through a china shop.

She's wary because she knows drifters can be unpredictable in the most amicable of circumstances. It's not uncommon for her species to disperse, to seek out some fresh blood to settle down, an instinct that's coded in their DNA to keep their genetics diverse. But there's always a risk that one'll be unhinged, unfit for pack life and therefore an outcast. Perhaps a disease of the body, or perhaps of the mind. So, Cypher's careful when she comes across folks like herself, though she's quick to trust if there's no obvious reason not to.

Cannibal. She feels a wave of digust, then rage. For a wolf to sink so low, to eat one of their own kind— Cypher doesn't think she'll ever be hungry enough for that. But this guy.

His gutteral snarl gives her enough warning to prepare, though she knows there's no use in running. He'd just chase her down as though she were no more than a young buck, and she's got too much pride to go down like that. Cypher holds her ground as he approached, her own tail and hackles raising in defense. She's showing her teeth, loosing decidedly wolfish snarls and growls, warning him to back off. He might kill her, but she'd fuck him up so it wouldn't be very long before she greeted him in the afterlife.

He expected the coyote to flee from him, especially with all the noise and movement as he crashed unceremoniously through the brush. Instead, the smaller canine stood its ground, baring its teeth and snarling a warning. None of this deterred Peregrine—rather, it gave him hope—but then he had the misfortune of picking up his victim's scent. This was no coyote; it was a she-wolf.

All the fight left him and he paused, entangled in the underbrush, staring almost dolefully at the stranger. She still seemed (understandably) pissed and like she would totally fight him if he kept up his attack. Peregrine shook his head and backed off a few steps. He felt guilty but, more than anything, he was disappointed. His stupid morals prevented him from trying to feed on his own kind and it was a pain in the ass.

"I thought you were a coyote," he said to her, knowing it wouldn't make a damn difference to her. He was about to make his exit then, when a thought struck him and he added, "Do you live somewhere around here?" He more or less expected her to tell him to kiss her ass, yet it was worth a try.

She watches as he halts in his approach, giving her a mournful look before retreated. Cypher relaxes only slightly; there's still adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she's not quite convinced that he's not trying to fake her out. She's not about to turn and show him her backside, that's for sure. He'll need to be the one to retreat first, so she knows he won't come after her again. She's not about to be surprised by death. She wants to meet it head on; fight it if she can.

Cypher gives him a simple look of disgust as he tries to explain; he's right that she's not interested in excuses. All that matters is what you've done. And he did stop, after all, so maybe that's why she's about to humor his next question. "Sure," she responds lightly, cautiously. If he can't smell that she's a loner, unattached, she's not going to correct him. "Sure, I live around here. What's it matter to you?"

She answered readily enough, albeit in a prickly tone. Peregrine couldn't (and didn't) hold that against her. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, wondering if she was a resident loner or part of a pack. He didn't really care about those particulars. He only wanted to know one thing:

"Is this area in better shape? I mean, I can see that the locusts were here too. But is there any growth at all? Any prey?"

"Fish in the rivers, squirrels, rabbits," she lists off readily. Too late, she realizes it might have been safer to lie and say there was nothing here at all— or to say the land was abundant with prey. There's no way to know what'd get him to move on. "They're wily. Nothin' bigger or easier to catch, though." Cypher shrugs. She's not bothered by the lack of food, though she's certainly hungry. But it's different when it's just you, no pack, no family, no attachments. "Nothin' green yet. It's the same further west." She's obviously got no good news for him.

"You from the east?" she asks. Cypher hasn't been that way, and doesn't plan on going there, either. But it seems the situation is pretty bleak all around.

She mentioned small prey, which of course caught his interest. Even rodents were sparse near the caldera. One point to... whatever this place is called, he thought, shifting his weight. His paws were still achy. She reported no large game, which was disappointing but unsurprising. Nothing much larger than a rabbit could sustain itself on these sparse levels of vegetation. He scuffed a paw against the bare earth even as the words nothin' green yet left the stranger's mouth.

When asked about his own origins, Peregrine looked around to orient myself, then simply bobbed his head. "Yeah. Southeast, I think." He paused, then admitted, "Things are bad that way. I was hoping they were better out here." So far, not so good... but he hadn't really taken a good look around yet and he wouldn't draw any conclusions from a single conversation anyway. He needed to see for himself.

Cypher's just watching him with cool eyes, now, the adrenaline quickly leaving her system now that he's posing no direct threat. "Might be that we both die here, then," she tells him with a casual shrug. There's no sign of the world getting better any time soon, and she's doubtful a pack would welcome her with the food situation as dire as it is. "I wouldn't put my faith in hope, because the universe doesn't give a fuck about us. Best make your peace and cozy up with the wolves you love, wait for the end." Assuming there was anyone he loved, and that they were close enough to reach before hunger did them all in.

Although there wasn't much room for laughter in this dire situation, Peregrine found a burst of it escaping his mouth nonetheless, a brow quirked in the face of her overpowering cynicism. "Although I agree with you about the universe," he drawled tiredly in reply, "I don't plan to bitch out on my family anytime soon. Is that what you plan to do? Give up, lie down and wait to die?" He quirked a brow, curious despite himself.

She's hungry, and tired of the games. Cypher's not looking for death, but she's not going to waste energy with mind games. He's stopped the physical attack, and that's what counts, so she allows herself to be a little socially vulnerable. "Nah," she responds. "I'll fight til the end, but there comes a time when you've gotta accept the inevitable."

That's about all she's willing to humor him, and she begins to continue on her way. "Thanks for the chat, but I got to get on with this whole 'fighting for survival' business." She's a few feet away when she pauses to add, "Thanks for not killin' me." If he tells her anything in response, she maybe nods her acknowledgment, but regardless of what's said it's sayonara, sucker.

♥

Her tone shifted slightly and Peregrine bobbed his head dumbly, glad that her earlier pessimism wasn't the whole story. Soon after, she slipped away, but not before thanking him for not killing her. Despite his worries and his weariness, he huffed a laugh at that. He watched her go, glad to have met her if only for the few bits of information she had given him. He filed it away in his mind but he still needed to investigate for himself. And there was no time like the present, so he chose a direction (south) and started moving again.