Wapun Meadow et peccatum meum contra me est semper

caches of ursus had run dry or rotten. prey returned to the wolfless valley, not intimidated by the little beardog, but still the hunt was not her calling.

she looked for leftovers, things felled by better hunters. the search led her out the confines of bearclaw and to the lip of a nearby meadow.

she reeked of milk and newborns, stale air and dirt. her head was kept low as she walked along the edges of the meadow, looking for nature's gifts.

He thought he tracked a small brown bear. The afternoon may have begun on a true trail, yet as the wolf prowled through the meadow he saw... well, he wasn't sure. Not something at all comparable to the size of something ursine, but something familiar, in the way canines were familiar to one another.

A breeze brought the stranger's current health to his attention: milk-sweet, effeminate in a way that didn't fit what he looked at. Mesa decided to keep his distance.

The wind tumbled across the meadow, ruffling at the man's coat as if to push him one way or another, but he stood firmly in place, observing.

her own nose was intent on finding any traces of a recent hunt, blood or meat or even rot, and of course, the smell of wolf.

she caught it then, brought by the wind, and turned her head to see a cousin observing her from a bit away.

the beardog stood, possibilities being considered.

in the end, she decided to sound towards them a chuff, a doggish imitation of the way wolves speak.

The creature took notice of him. It swung its fat face up and around, making a noise that brought a glimmer of interest to Mesa's eye. He licked his lips; curious, discerning.

He stifled the urge to flash his teeth as he watched her; drawing towards where she stood, but with the careful steps of a hunter uncertain of his quarry.

As a light warning he did utter a low rumble in his chest, eyeing her, then looked along the path of crushed meadow greens left in her wake. She'd come from the valley.

skip ofc

mother bear gone.

parousia was but a worm in the den she had left behind. squirming, agitated beyond belief. if she had once seemed sickly and runty, she certainly showed signs of life now.

a cry from the den.

she flopped unceremoniously at the mouth of it. waiting for the return of mother bear.

she observed him carefully, and her wrinkles concealed her own twitches of aggression.

this one was a loner. the lean appearance and lack of a packsmell gave it away. for a moment she thought the two of them different in that regard, before remembering ursus had left her.

cult, along with the god.

best speak now before the stranger thought her a meal.

"hail." her voice guttural and low, flat, baritone. it served well to conceal her uncertain feelings.

"what, brings you, here?"

The bear-thing spoke.

Where he expected a sluggish voice to meet the slovenly nature of their body, he was surprised with the opposite. This bear, this wolf, this creature of confounding make, spoke with a sharp and bright tone that did not fit what Mesa now looked upon.

He was at once disgusted by them — as he was disgusted by anything alien — and still, wary.

Hunting. He answers. Though he speaks with a low tone, he has not spoken in many days and the sound of it is the most shocking thing about this exchange. He is startled by how loud he feels he is being; in truth, he is barely audible.

There is another sound — a more distant wailing. To this he turns his ears, and looks curiously over the bear-dog's head for the source, though it is far. There is hunger in his gaze now, which does not bode well for the child.

something about the cut of them, the way they moved or didn't, concerned the beardog.

it was a small feeling at first, but when their head rose to look upon the entryway into the valley, picking up some sound the chow couldn't, it grew until an old knowledge came back to her.

she, a dog. inbred into a stunted and weakened form.

they, a wolf. predator.

unease was concealed by the thick folds of her face.

"could you, point me, to where... good hunting can be found?" she tried to capture his attention again.

So, the bear-dog cannot hear it. He marks this as a slight against her; one more error in her make.

He chuffs softly in thought, and then without speaking another word Mesa moves swiftly around her. He wonders if she will follow him or give chase to defend what she cannot sense; but she is hungry too, given her question.

The man heads towards the mouth of the valley without care if the woman follows, as she is not an apparent threat.

he moves around her, and first she thinks she will be the target.

then he goes past her.

"no!" there is still that old placidity in her, and in that moment she wonders how much of it is in her unique personality, and how much is another mark of her breed.

she stumbles after him trough the summergrass.

still skippable!

the cries brought no return.

parousia remained in the den. growing colder and hungrier with each passing moment.

she whined, useless, and rolled back some into the den. still easily a lighter mark against the rich summer earth. there was warmth here though where the sun had baked the ground.

The sounds ceased.

Except the sound of the bear-dog calling out, and her body thumping alongside him as she raced - in her limited capacity - to block his way.

Mesa couldn't follow the sounds now that they'd stopped. He paused and glared at the round shape of the creature, his fur beginning to bristle. He snorts, but relents.

The creature has a fat, soft body and no inclination to use their teeth, if they have them. Mesa considers going after the woman for a moment but decides against it; it wouldn't be worth the effort.

He chooses instead to... stall. To stalk and make a lazy advance across the meadow instead of a run, and to wait with open ears for signs of a target. The first cry had sounded very far — and the woman had tried to bar him from the path to the valley, which spoke volumes to the hunter.

"cannibal!" she cried, the yell strained and screechy by her vocal cords unused to such pitch.

"you'd eat your own?!" some working dog blood fired up within her, begining to slowly heat the pot of her fury.

bernadette hurried after the wolf - and yet it wasn't in her mind to attack it.

a part of her mind still veiled in neutrality, weighted the worth of lives.

The woman shrieked a word he had not heard before; she claimed they were kin, somehow. Mesa stopped and regarded her as if she had three heads, and his eyes went up and down her figure.

Your own. This was not a sickly bear-thing? This was a sickly wolf-thing? He balked.

A rumble started in his chest which gave his words an edge. You're not mine. He did not understand what she meant. In another stride he'd put some distance between them. He still surveyed for signs of life beyond this wretched creature but, he was growing dissatisfied by the effort.

The man sniffed the air for signs of anything else worth hunting, but there was only the smell of grass, and the sound of the wind against it.

she had his attention, now to keep it, perhaps solve this without baring teeth.

"a wolf, sired them." she rasped, that single raising of her voice costing her. "that, should be, evidence enough."

then, she sneered.

"and, were you, here, in my season, you'd've found me, yours."

She was out of breath.

So was he, once he learned of the sound's origin. That someone would lay with this creature was repulsive in concept and had the effect of making him turn green at the gills, so to speak.

What—?!

He was thoroughly distracted by the idea of a wolf and this woman — you'd've found me, yours.

His teeth flashed with confusion, then knowledge, then loathing. Mesa pulled away from her in reverse, almost as if she had struck him outright, and dry-heaved.

He'd lost his appetite.

Get away from me, creature.

teeth did end up bared, but there was something sickly sweet in the realisation that her appearance could be so weaponized - as could the truth that wolf and dog were in nature and instinct, similar.

there was another crease added to her face, that of a smile, but the meaty awnings of her brows hid the shine in her eyes.

"why, wasn't it... you, who approached?" there was mock innocence in her voice, and a single step was taken towards the wolf. "i am, as creature, as you are."

another.

"why not come, to my valley, and i could... prove it?" now her smile was audible.

'scuse the holdup<3

The beast made insinuations and then began to stalk towards him. He disliked the feeling of her beady little eyes upon him now, or the wave of her breath as she leaned in to taunt him. As her pudgy face drew up and away from her own teeth Mesa saw only threat and reacted.

He bore his fangs in return, this time with a warning rumbling like gravel from his throat. The gilded fur along his top line serrated. He lunged, snapped; not truly going for any piece of the creature but letting the resounding clap of his beartrap fangs be the final deterrent.

If she came closer he would strip that smile off her face, piece by piece.

she saw in him a violence coiled like a viper, ready to strike. 

and it struck, teeth making a sound that for a second she feared would be muffled by her coat and skin.

but there was a little mercy. or more likely disgust.

she'd enjoyed her moment of fun. now not to toy with divine blessings.

"leave." bernadette rumbled. "you'll find, nothing, in my valley." 

nothing to fill your monstrous gut.

Snorting like some kind of war-horse whose reigns had been unjustly pulled, Mesa glared at the creature and weighed his options. There was obviously something the beast protected; he'd heard it crying out before. To reach that he'd have to be fast and precise, and he could not accomplish that when pursued.

He was no longer hungry, only irritable. Put-off from his hunt as much by this creature's ugly insinuations. Annoyed that something better had not come along for him to chase.

There had been paths further south, and also towards the mountain, which he had been intrigued by. Had Mesa been a more prideful man perhaps he would have stayed and fought this vile thing to prove some point — his purity, his masculinity, h is power, all in question — but he decided no, it was not a fight worth having.

So he advanced a few steps in an arc, his rumble continuing the whole time, and stalked away before the bear-dog could say much else. He would head towards the mountains rather than the valley; as agitated as he felt now, it was better to leave than to garner a taste of the mutant's blood upon his tongue.

she stilled completely, soft sculpture of a canine, shadowed eyes tracking the wolf as it circled,

went around her,

and left.

the breath bernadette released brought with itself such relief she nearly collapsed - if there wasn't genuine fear that any additional sing of weakness would be her downfall.

and so she left as well.

---

her head dove into the hovel. it was a good thing she'd never constructed it to house any bigger than she. the wolf would've struggled to reach her offspring, unless in their nascent curiousity they came to it.

"...eucharist?" her voice was a croak. "...@Parousia? ...jesus? ...iscariot?" after each name was a pause as the mother waited for the relevant shape to wiggle or announce itself.

all accounted for.

internally, she thanked a vague concept of god or fate or luck for this small mercy.

she descended into the darkness, returning warmth to it.

"divine sparks." mother bearess whispered, as three of her daughters crowded around her nipples, sucking out only a trickle. 

"god... can no longer, protect us."