Redsand Canyon i give props to hip-hop

for @Glaukos backdated to between the 8th-10th if that's okay 

Goddamn, she'd struck gold. 

Sure, the place was cramped, and sure, they were on iron rations, but once she got over the stench of wolf she was able to enjoy the benefits of her safety being somebody else's problem. So injured and feverish (albeit the fever was receding) she was not expected to help with whatever it was packs did on the daily, and could focus on her healing/well-earned lazing around instead.

She was in front of her "den" - a sort of natural indent in the canyon wall which protected her from the elements - and laid on her back as to not irritate the healing injuries on her neck.

It would be so fucking easy to get used to this.

Glaukos had been told of the newest recruit during one of his reports to the leader, but it did not exactly prepare him for the moment when he caught a glimpse of them.

She was like a pig with too much skin. At first when he saw the way she rested - on her back with her belly exposed - the boy thought someone had left a haunch of meat outside a cache by mistake. She was almost as red as the canyon and without the thick fur of any normal wolf, only the excess skin which sloughed from her rotund figure and puddled beneath.

In short: he thought she was hella uggo and that, coupled with Glaukos' natural skepticism towards the average person, meant he kept his distance. He only made the identification now as he returned from a patrol, hungry and briefly flummoxed by the sight of her beneath a henge of rock.

One hazel eye popped open at the sound of claws clicking against stone. It rolled in its socket to appraise the intruder upon the mastiff's precious leisure time. The moment his large form was taken in, the eye bulged wide, followed by its twin, and soon the carrier of the greenish orbs turned onto her stomach, looking over the stranger (who smelled of the pack).

"Well damn, you gotta be the second biggest wolf I've ever seen."* Diesel said, tongue lolling out the side of her short muzzle, saliva built up while she was resting flowing so wonderfully out her jowls.

 * Although, it was fairly possible that Scarface had taken on monstrous proportions only in her imagination.

The sagging lump of meat and skin rolled, somehow, and looked almost no different when upright. A line of drool dropped from the excessive lip tissue around its face. Its eyes looked too small for its head; and when it spoke, while audible, its voice was somehow moist.



Glaukos decided there and then, he hated this thing. That wasn't a fair assessment but to be honest, he hated most people, so this one wasn't far off the mark. She seemed taken aback by his size; meanwhile he was unabashedly disgusted by her everything. So much so, he couldn't even form a sentence. He just stared as if he were witnessing a never-before-seen animal locked in a zoo exhibit.

The wolves were weirded out by her, confounded by the similarities and differences between their species, that much even she couldn't miss. This, however, was the first one who so bluntly, so unabashedly showed open disgust at the sight of she and her unbelievable sexy wrinkles.

She loved the change.

And the challenge.

"What's the matter man, cat got your tongue?" The mastiff grinned, then used her hind leg to scratch her face (the damned brow wound still itched) making her chain necklace click as links hit against each other.

Without pausing her action, she spoke. "You the other guy? I met the grey one already."

Glaukos prowled closer. He didn't want to, but the only path back to the heart of the canyon coiled near to where the creature rested, and so he must. As he moved the creature spoke up again — mentioning Kallik, which caused the dark boy to scoff.

He looked at her ugly mug and the strange snare around her neck, which rang out as she scratched under the folds. Resisting the desire to shiver.

I can't decide if you are auxilia or if you are food. He lowered his head slightly so that it was level with the bulbous, beady-eyed face, and held a grimace upon his face.

He brought his face to her level, and at least six different great ideas popped up in her head. Which would piss him off more: biting him or licking him? Which one would get him to make more hilarious faces at her?

"Why you asking, boy, you want a taste of me?" She wiggled her brows at him as to accentuate the oh-so-subtly lewd suggestion, the action sponsored by the boss's throughout cleaning of her facial wound. 

A part of her was mighty pissed off by his insult, but the vocal majority of the canned beans that were her brain was finding this to be the most entertaining thing in weeks.

The boy grimaced and let more teeth spill from his black lips; he did not like the idea of tasting this thing, and imagined her flesh would be rubbery like a seal, and seeing as how excessively it grew it would be like pulling at fern fronds, peeling chunks away to get at the belly meats - themselves, likely more fat than flesh.

Glaukos was ignorant to the deeper innuendo.

Wasn't asking. It was meant more as a warning, not a question. He had made up his mind quickly enough with her retort though, and with a huff he pulled away from her, wanting once again to put some distance between them. At the very least she smelled strongly of infection, which told him she was weak.

If he did decide he wanted this creature dead, he had time.

This guy was a riot. How old was he? Wolves still looked and smelled all the same to her, but something made her think he was indeed a boy; as immature and bratty as every dog his age.

Despite her weakened state - and despite how such teasing got her ass beat in the first place - Diesel couldn't resist the siren call of testing her luck by being a lil' bit of an insufferable cunt.

She got up and - taking care to take up as much space while doing so - stretched, her stiff back and joints popping with a series of gross sounds. Then, she spent maybe ten seconds just standing and staring blankly into space, saliva building up in her mouth. 

Once she felt it overflow, the bitch shook herself - and drool sprayed everywhere.

A hot shower of slime sprayed everywhere, chiefly across Glaukos who immediately withdrew to try and avoid it. The flapping skin and moist folds catching more air than what should've been physically possible. He wanted to vomit; at the same time, he did not want to open his mouth.

Not a word was spared while the flesh-blob fanned her juices everywhere — Glaukos retreated up the rise and away, probably to throw himself in the nearest snow pile or spring, and soak away the nastiness of the encounter.