Lost Creek Hollow I Am the Once, Now Irreplaceable Son

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'Get out and stay out until you get your head out of your ass.'

He huffed as the words replayed in his head, over and over. They played on repeat. Had been playing on repeat in the back of his mind over the past few days and weeks. The mocking words of the hag he unfortunately knew as only his mother.

“Whatever.” He huffed to himself, his brow furrowed and his steps loud, stomping.

Leaves and ice alike crunched underfoot, gave way to his angry, lashing pacing.

She needed him. The pack needed him.

And sooner or later, they would see. She would come slinking out of the woods and ask what the fuck he was doing, shouldn’t he have been patrolling? Or maybe she would send his dad. The bastard never knew how to say no to her, and usually did whatever she wanted him to do. Like find him and talk to him, like some good old father-son bonding would fix whatever fuck up had happened.

“Fucking bullshit.” Just who the fuck did she think she was? She was delusional, to treat him like that. He was the pack’s heir. The water in a flowing stream, cutting through mountain and washing over the pebbles underneath. And speaking of pebbles—

Someone was nearby.

His hackles bristled.

“The fuck are you looking at?” He sneered, his chin jutted forward and up, and his upper lip curled back, exposing bared white teeth.

Like a snake, they crept through the wilds, a fire-lit eye watching with curiosity to any stranger they saw. An ear flickered in the wind to the sound of a distraught wolf, and only approached just a bit, before a flashing of fangs went into her direction. Blinking, but a smile to their face as she slithered out from shadows of the creek.

"Now, now friend," a smile like a jester, but a mind like the devil, "I'm just a passerby."

The word friend ran over him like someone’s muzzle brushing backwards through his fur. Which was to say, wrong.

He growled, then, a low, deep, rumbling sound from somewhere inside his throat and chest. His earlier sneer was quickly becoming more an outright snarl on his features with his brow furrowed and his red eyes narrowed.

“I’m not your friend.” Freak. And when she showed even the slightest sign of slowing down and stopping, of talking to him—

“Then hurry up and pass.”

"But we are not enemies, no?" Dantalion didn't move from her place, but simply held an amused smile while watching the irritated boy. He was disturbed by her friendly ways, but made no mention to attack, only but simple scowls and bristles; and so she pushed.

"It's lonely here, is it not?"

She didn’t listen.

Of course, she didn’t fucking listen.

Why was he surprised?

‘But we are not enemies, no?’ She said, like it was a goddamn joke and riddle meant to be shared between them.

He huffed. Scowled. Snorted. Looked away to the middle distance before looking back at her.

And, yeah, sure, maybe they weren’t enemies, but they sure as shit weren’t friends. He barely even fucking knew the bitch. So, when she pressed that little bit further in their non-conversation? Extended that olive branch just a little further?

Daighre knew the answer.

“No.” No, it wasn’t fucking lonely here, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. It wasn’t lonely anywhere. He didn’t get lonely. No, he just got angry.

"Then why so angry?" Dantalion's posture seemed to lax like they were talking to a long-time friend, and continued prodding with such a word. He was so angry, yet alone, and smelled like no other, something clearly struck a nerve, and the devil was oh-so curious what had happened.

Why was he so angry?
 
Because he was out there—wherever the fuck there was—and not back home.
 
Because he had been out there for over the past two weeks, all because the hag he knew only as his mother thought he needed a reality check, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, and had told him to get the fuck out of her territory until he got his head out of his ass.
 
(Her territory. Like he wasn’t as entitled to it as she was, because the damn bitch had given birth to him, and wasn’t that how packs worked?)
 
But mostly? Mostly, he was so angry because strangers like her, strangers that were no doubt beyond useless in the long run and just hadn’t realized it yet, hadn’t realized just how little their lives mattered to him, with their pleasantries and oddities, wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone.
 
It was like everyday there was a new pile of bullshit being pushed onto him.
 
But saying all that felt like a little too much like having emotions, having feelings, and they weren’t friends. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t need friends. And the red bitch before him was no exception to that rule.
 
He took a single step forward, stance low.
 
“Because,” he started, painfully slowly, the word carefully enunciated from between clenched teeth, his ears pressed back against his head and his tail rigid and stiff behind him, words chosen like he was speaking to a very small (or very dumb) child, “You won’t leave me the fuck alone.”

Dantalion chuckled softly at the agitated wolf, "I think you were angry far before I came." Normally, the smart move would be to move away before the other to attack, but lately she has been oh-so bored. Without a Kingdom to pull but a few strings with, there was nothing else to do besides wait, and listen.

A gamble to if she would get hurt, but hopefully not.

"I'm Dantalion," the devil introduced herself, "and you?"

He had stepped forward, and she—
 
Remained where she stood. No move to step forward. No move to step back.
 
What resulted was an awkward, uncomfortable, unnatural closeness between them, one where Daighre refused to be the one to widen the gap. Instead, he stood there, awkwardly, and distinctly uncomfortable, his tail deadweight in the air behind him and his shoulders rolled forward, his head and neck in line with his spine. His hackles bristled.
 
‘I’m Dantalion,’ she said, like he gave a flying fuck. Dandelion. Great. Fucking great. Her name was Dandelion. She should have told someone who gave a shit.
 
He sneered, then, looked down at her from the bridge of his muzzle, the corner of his black upper lip curled back and his teeth on display. And finally, finally—
 
“Daighre.” His name was Daighre.

It was rather amusing, the closeness that was given. She knew the uncomfortably it can give, but not to herself, rather the man who tried to intimidate the devil, only to be faced with an unmoving wolf. A soft, low chuckle shifted it's way out while looking at him with an angelic smile of a seraph.

"Daighre, a pleasure, but why is such a man angry in the middle of no where?" She prodded again.

She asked the same question.
 
And Daighre, surprise, fucking, surprise, had the same exact answer for her. And that answer?
 
“Because you won’t leave me the fuck alone.” He said, his ears pressed irritably back against his head and his red eyes narrowed in a glare. Except, this time, he wasn’t done. Not quite yet. “You fucking suck at small talk, Dandy.” Pot meet kettle.
 
He shouldered past her to leave.

"Perhaps it's because my companion won't talk in a friendly fashion, no?" It was said with no malice and the devil chuckled slightly. The best they could always do was repeat, repeat, and repeat some more to get a satisfactory reaction or answer. Perhaps not how Dantalion wanted to go, but she did gain a rather interesting day for the moment, as the man shouldered her to move past.

With a more mock to her tone, "oohhh, scary."