Ouroboros Spine elsewhere

I'm so out of practice with writing omg. This is for @Kierkegaard - I found some time to start our thread myself!

He teetered on the edge, knowing with just a gulp of air that someone lived nearby. It was hard to miss the pungent odor that marked this as pack land - but he didn't heed the warning, not really. The boy had been hunting for this scent through the entirety of winter; not any specific wolf though, just the collective notes which hinted at a group. A group meant there were caches, and caches meant food - something he sorely needed, if one could glance the slick roundness of his hungry belly.

Skaro skittered - yes, really, skittered - through the forest. He moved in fits and starts, as if there wasn't enough kinetic energy in the world to keep him going; he grew tired quickly, and would pause in the shadows for respite. But only for fleeting moments, for gasps of chilled air, until his pulse ebbed to a less erratic beat. Then, he would creep and crawl as low as he could, finding animal trails for ease of access.

When he finally stopped, the scent of wolf was strong around him. It was so strong that he knew - almost intrinsically - that he should not be here. Alas, this was a lesson he knew quite well, but not something he would obey. Skaro knew how to hide in the wilderness, in the wildness, but it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed his foreign scent. There was no more time for him to skitter wantonly, he had to be cautious now, calculated.

Somewhere in this foreign place there was food - there was something edible, even if it was half rotten or frozen, or so old and chewed that it was of no use to anyone; he would find it, and devour.