Honeyed Pasture Take every chance you dare

Mason had chosen a den on their new side of the mountain which had an outcropping of rock nearby. If he trotted to the edge of this jagged, stone tightrope he could see a place he someday wished to go to – the sea. His Dad had explained that Stavanger bay had claimed the majority of the seaside which was near them. To trek out further to Sealion shores would be difficult for himself and June, Dad had advised. Now Stavanger Bay Had disbanded.

Mason stood on that outcrop now, gazing out at a thin strip of blue in the long distance; much too far to touch or smell. Well now he was an adult. Mason puffed his chest out. Wirh the fearless motions of a mountain-bred pup, Mason jumped down a level of the mountain he knew he could manage, skated on some scree for a short distance, then skidded sideways to join up with a track he knew would lead him out of the packlands.

By the time he left the safety of his borders the sky was periwinkle blue and the low bloated winter sun had just disappeared behind the tip of the mountain behind him. Darkness descended quickly as Mason pressed onwards into the Honeyed Pasture. He knew that he should not try to make it toStavanger Bay just yet, because he needed time to travel, and he must ensure he had a full belly.


But as young headstrong boys do, Mason decided to go for it. He picked up the pace and began to gallop through the open plain. Besides the occasional tuft of grass poking up, there was little to determine the faceless terrain. No trees sheltered this place and the ground was snowy in places, frozen dirt in others. Mason’s pale form blended in well as he sped through the early evening with effortless youth, short legs stretching as far as they could go, eyes focused ahead of him on the splendour of the sea.

The need for a pack in winter was paramount to the silent wanderer. This was unfamiliar territory - far from the geyser filled valleys and mountains he was born in, far from the vast expanse of golden plains that divided this land and his home. This was a land that was bordered by the sea, the ocean, that was farther north than he had ever been. He was still not sure what brought him to this colder realm when he could have easily ventured south for the winter, following the birds to that mythical warm desert he had learned about. But something called to him here that he could not deny. What it was, he was still not sure.

The silent wanderer shivered as a cold, salt-tinged wind raked through his fur. He fluffed up his pelt as much as he could in defiance, but his husky heritage did not offer itself to the thickness of his pelt. Unbowed, he pressed forward at a quick pace, hoping to find some sort of shelter before the sun disappeared and he was left in that cruel frozen darkness known as night in winter.

There was bound to be something here - a den, some fallen log. He was slightly disappointed to only find one thing worthy of note in this cold wasteland - another wolf. A wolf here meant that there was more nearby - it always did, for wolves rarely travelled alone for long. He did not know much about these Teekon wolves, but he did know that they had several packs who thrived by the sea. Perhaps this wolf belonged to one of them. He was curious how wolves may hunt with undrinkable water marking most of their western border. He chuffed softly, wondering if the wolf could even hear through the rushing wind.

Mason did not hear the chuff with the wind rushing through his ears, as the stranger had astutetely wondered. He did however spot the other wolf in his peripheral vision as he ran. Deciding that company on his run might be nice (and also realising he was pretty knackered by now) Mason slowed his pace to a gentle jog and angled his path towards the dark-rust-coloured wolf. When he got closer he noticed silver war paint emblazoned upon the cheeks and face of the other boy. Or was he a boy? He was about Mason’s height, although not as long as the Silvertip, and he looked skinny as hell. If he was an adult, he must be about Mason’s age, because he looked like he needed a good meal. Mason only really knew June who was his age (he’d not yet met Desna) and therefore he decided to treat this boy-man like he would her. She was a skinny runt too.

Mason didn’t get too close. Instead he pulled up to a halt and turned until he was perpendicular to Hush, but a good few feet of distance still lay between them . Then, with a girlish toss of his head and a prance, Mason shouted loudly to him, tilting his head in clear invitation. “C’mon, race me to the sea!”
 

Mason let out a short, sharp syllable of a howl, then he tossed his head again, leaned back on semi-rested haunches, and pushed himself forwards into a rocking lope. Slower than his previous pace, Mason was both conserving energy, ensuring the male was following, and making sure he could keep up. Always one to favour the underdog, Mason would stop if Hush didn’t take chase.

The wolf slowed his pace, stopping in front of the smaller coywolfdog. Hush could see the other's eyes resting on his slight frame, but the eyes quickly danced away as the wolf pranced, inviting him to a race. Hush's face was split in two by his bright smile. It was an unexpected request, but he relished in the challenge. He joined in with the howl - his own bay slightly garbled but still filled with the same excitement as the younger. He leapt from his spot and dashed after the wolf.

He too was saving his own energy. Like the other he was exhausted, but he was drained by hunger and the cold rather than overexertion. Had this been summer, and he wellfed, he would have given this pup a run for his (metaphorical) money. But the pleasure he felt in experience such unbridled joy would have been the same regardless of the season. It reminded him of his days with his sister, when it would just be the two of them, silently against the world.

Hush kept in pace with the wolf, his pale eyes fixated on the growing span of blue which he had recently marveled at - the sea. Determined, he pushed himself just a bit more without killing himself, focused on passing this friendly stranger.

Mason was graced with a smile that split the boy’s silver-marked face into two. He gave an unusual howl-bark that needed a bit of practise, but showed off his clear excitement. They both leapt forward and it appeared they were quite evenly matched in their careful pacing. Like racehorses on a track, they moved in tandem, not yet ready to test the other for extra speed. Mason was not a sprinter thanks to his short legs – he was much more of a stamina runner. He did the long distance in the hunts, driving the prey onwards; he tended to be one of the first in and the last out, whereas he rarely had the speed to dive in and make the kill.

Mason spotted the blue strip increasing. He was thrilled – he had never seen the sea before. In his excitement he did put on a burst of speed. Without warning, though, the other lad – now close enough that Mason could see his charcoal-tipped guard hairs – surged forwards and past him. Mason had been intending to ‘allow’ the boy to win as he sometimes did for June but he hadn’t expected for him to actually be better!

Mason watched the skinny body as it edged slowly past him, driving just that bit faster. He could now see the muscles bunched up under the skin; it appeared the boy wasn’t lacking in anything except fat. And he probably wasn’t really a boy, just a smallish weird-shaped wolf. Hmm.

They were not far now – once the journey had become a race it was more exciting and the distance seemed to flow by. Mason gave a grin of determination and then opened his legs wider in their stride, reached forwards and tried nudge the flank of Hush off course. Maybe playing dirty might be fun and win him the medal.

Hush never expected the wolf to simply play fair. No one did when they were having this much fun. The exhilaration and the thought of winning this race was too much to keep a wolf (or hybrid) within the boundaries of rules and honor. He was an honorable wolf, but only when lives were on the line.

The wolf attempted a nudge. Hush noticed it and moved away from the playful wolf, a soft yip coming from his mouth. The mute never changed his stride, but waited for the right moment when the sea was this close. It was a tactic of his that always worked when he hunted - keeping up with your prey at a steady pace, closing in slowly, and then laying on the speed and ferocity at the last minute. It always worked, and he was sure it would work in this race. The boy would never see it coming.

Dammnit. The rusty male spotted his attempt and moved aside, his rump avoiding the playful tag. Mason did manage to pull up some distance, however, and now they apperared to be on relatively even playing field. The ground began to change underpaw, becoming spongy and springy. The snow was sparser here, as the sea appeared to give off a lot of wind. Mason could feel it blasting in at his fur, but he was moving so fast he was combating the cold.

The sea was in sight. Mason let out a giddy and excited bark, and spurred himself onwards. He wasn’t sure whether he intended to run right to the edge and stop, or throw himself into the waters that were free of ice, but surely just as cold. Little did he know about Hush’s plan, and in his happiness Mason didn’t notice the other boy pushing ahead until it was too late. Hush was going to win, but Mason was happy to come in a clear second; he had never been a sore loser.

Hush slowed to a trot as the sand grew wet beneath his paws. He did not stop until the water reached his ankles, and the hybrid basked in the cold salty waters. A triumphant - though yet again rattling - bark exited his lips as he tossed his head and reared on his hind legs like a stallion. He walked through the water, sloshing the bitter liquid into his pelt to cool him down after such a burst of energy, though he quickly jumped out onto the sand as he began to feel the water's frozen bite.

His pale eyes rested on his running companion, filled with that slight bit of arrogance a winner always got, but commending the younger pureblood on his own performance. His tail wagged enthusiastically, a doggy smile on his face. Words did not need to be said, even if he had the ability to. He was happy and glad he had gotten such a warm welcome in the midst of this frozen season.

The rusty male kept going until he hit the water, and Mason followed. The feeling was bizarre – rushing, freezing water enveloped his paws. It lifted the sand in the eddies of the tide, causing grains to lodge themselves in the space between his pads. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, although the wind became instantly biting as Mason slowed to a stop. The other boy was revelling in his win, and he reared up to punch the air with a salt-water spray. The wind caught some of the droplets and plastered them along Mason’s fur – he grinned. He removed himself from the water at the same time as his companion, and suddenly the ground felt alien to his numb paws.

He turned to look Hush full in the face for the first time and gave a few huge gasps with his tongue lolling, “Well done mate.” There were unusual features in the wolf’s face, and Mason didn’t understand why he looked that way, but it didn’t really bother him. Wagging his tail he reached in to give Hush a congratulatory bump on the chin. He then turned to survey the sea properly, for the first time up-close.


“I’ve never seen the sea before. It’s pretty, but it’s really cold.” Mason shivered, and stood with his front two paws pressed tightly together, gazing out at the water.

Hush returned the bump, chuffing softly as he did. But he moved away swiftly as he felt the need to shake off his dripping pelt - he had never known water to be so heavy, or so cold. With his pelt properly fluffed up, his husky traits coming into play, he sat (he would much rather lay down but he feared getting sand on his stomach) close to his running mate. The boy spoke of not seeing the sea before, to which Hush let out a agreeing cough. He had figured the sea to be a large lake - which it was - but at least thought there would be an end to it somewhere. Staring west, he saw none, and it marveled him. What could lie at the other shore of this grand lake?

Mason listened to Hush’s quiet affirmative noise, but the male made no other sound. He was apparently drinking in the scenery in peace. Mason smiled and watched the tide roll frothy waves in from the horizon. The fluffy fur of the male next to him was now on-end and he looked bigger. Mason’s own thin fur straggled against his body where it was wet and plastered to his skin so that his belly and legs appeared drowned-rat-like.

“I wonder if we went out swimming, and it wasn’t freezing, whether we could reach the other side…” he mused. Dad had assured him not, but Mason liked to think big. He looked to the left and right, taking in the view of the beach. Perhaps there were packs newly-established around here? “Shall we go have a look over there and see if there’s anything to eat?” He pointed to a large collection of rocks and boulders some hundred yards away with his nose. His Dad had mentioned sea creatures tended to collect in the pools of water that settled between rocks. Maybe they could find one and his new friend could have a meal to fatten himself up.

Mason was interested in mapping this area of the territory in his mind – the very edge of their world. Mason was now determined to move across other territories in his spare time, in his quest for knowledge of his surroundings. As a youth he had mapped Silvertip Mountain with no wanderlust in him at all; now he wished to know it all and travel far and wide, safe in the knowledge he could always return home when he wanted.

Hush made a soft chuff-bark, shaking his head, silently suggesting against it. He had never seen the sea before, but the tales he had heard suggested that going far into the waters was not a good idea. It seemed - it was- nearly endless. Staring west, there was no land in sight to rest on if you got tired. No wolf was that good of a swimmer. Unless they were part fish.

His stomach grumbled as a response, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of eating some seafood. He wondered if the salt of the sea seeped into the fish that lived here - there were fish right? Or was it some other kind of water creature? Were there ducks too? - and changed the taste. Would it taste better? Ugh, he had so many questions that he had the inability to ask. All he could do was follow his companion and assist him in the search for seafood.

Mason mistakenly took Hush’s quiet noises as a usual response – he wasn’t really thinking about the fact that he wasn’t speaking, as he hadn’t really given Hush a direct question to answer that couldn’t be answered with a nod. Luckily for Hush, Mason had a great inability to stay quiet, and he could certainly talk enough for the both of them. The Silvertip newly-grown adult spent a lot of his time with his sister, who rarely spoke to anyone else. She was a bit more verbal with Mason but she tended to allow him to ramble on whilst she stayed quiet. He was, therefore, quite content to do the same thing with Hush, which made them quite a good pair.

 

Mason heard the belly-grumble and he chortled softly. “I’ll take that as a yes” he said with a grin, and they set off together towards the rock pool. They reached it with little event, and Mason clambered up on top of a rough, flattish rock to gaze down into the pool of water. There was no ice on top – he wondered at this, because it was a still body unlike the sea. He let the phenomenon rest, unknowing of the qualities of salt.

“C’mon, look I see some fish!” They were miniscule. Barely bigger than his own teeth. They would be hard to catch. He also spotted an unusual-coloured ‘rock’ underneath the water. Intrigued, Mason reached a paw into the cold water and prodded the crab. Its legs uncurled and it danced angrily. Mason avoided the pincers which looked quite dangerous and tried to scoop it out of the water. The currents caused by his paw swished the crab in the direction of where he hoped his companion was now sat. “Get it!” He squealed excitedly. Perhaps there was some tasty meat beneath its tough shell.

He was glad that there was little effort on his part to attempt to communicate to the young wolf. A simple growl of his stomach, and the two began scouring the seashore for whatever strange delicacies the seawolves devoured on a daily basis. He was eager to taste the food here and judge if he would like to linger by the seashore, if for a little while.

The pair quickly found meals swimming in the small pools of water leftover by the roaring waves. There were tiny fish - too tiny to even make a snack of - and a strange rock that the younger wolf took interest in. Hush had his doubts about poking the thing, his doubts quickly came into fruition as claws and strange, spider-like legs unfurled from under its rock-like shell. Hush blinked in surprise, but his initial shock quickly wore off as he pounced on top of the creature like a fox would do, trying to crack its shell. It could be broken, couldn't it? Or did it really wear a rock on top of its back?

Hush followed his lead and pounced on the crab as it made is way towards the darker wolf. Mason watched carefully as Hush attempted to squash the crab down. Its pincers jabbed wildly but thankfully appeared to mostly miss their mark. It was probably being blinded by the sand-filled fur atop its body – wait, did it have eyes?

Mason shook the confusing thoughts off. He noticed that the shell was certainly withstanding the weight of a wolf. The pincers were an issue – could they snapped off? Mason didn’t want to shovel his face under Hush’s paws and jaws to get at the thing so he suggested: “Maybe try an’ throw it at a rock?” His voice was eager and excited – he wanted to see what was inside this new treasure.

Hush kept bouncing on top of the rock-creature, and yet nothing happened. It only seemed to make the creature angrier, its pincers finding its mark more often now than before. Frustrated, he reared up on his hindlegs and slammed down with all of his small but substaintial weight - to no avail. He wasn't heavy enough.

His companion suggested throwing the creature at a rock. The suggestion gave Hush pause - would throwing a rock against another rock work? But then he remembered a quote - he couldn't remember who said it - fight fire with fire. Perhaps one of these true-rocks would have enough stability to crack through this rock-creature. He circled the rock-creature, snarling softly as it clattered at him warily. Hush snapped and lunged at the creature, foolishly attempting to get a hold on its pincers. It was a fierce combatant, to be sure, drawing blood from his muzzle more than once. But Hush was too hungry to be deterred.

Mason was getting a bit worried that his companion would end up being the loser in this battle. At his suggestion, Hush was now trying to pick the moving-rock up but it was having none of it.
 
Mason pressed his nose in at the creature from the other side between Hush’s lunges. Coming at it from ‘behind’ gave him an element of surprise. He snapped violently at the cracking pincers and his teeth hit a hard yet un-rock-like substance. Mason drew back, licking the salt  now on his lips, and crowed triumphantly when he saw that one of the crab’s pincers had toppled sideways, and was now laying at an awkward angle to the creature. The appendage was still attached but it was useless and unmoving.
 
Mason waited to see whether Hush would have more luck when the thing only had one snapping weapon.

Unlike Mason, Hush was not able to break the creature's other pincer, dislocating it from whatever socket it had. Instead, Hush caught the top of the pincer in his teeth and pulled. It wasn't the most effective method of disarming the rock-creature, but with a few hard tugs, the top, and larger half of the pincer came off, leaving the creature with no force to pinch, only to poke, if it even knew how. Hush was satisfied with that - it minimized the damage at the least.

The hybrid stepped back, the top of the pincer dangling from his mouth. He crunched it, chewing it contemplatively. His tail wagged in approval. It was an interesting taste - salty, tasting like both meat and fish at the same time. He liked it. He looked at Mason, then back at the angered creature. Was it not in pain? Regardless, it would be dead soon. Hush picked it up by its loosened pincer and hauled it towards the nearest rock. Time to crack this thing open.

Mason watched as Hush managed to actually pull part of the other pincer off. He moved a little bit away to chew on the pincer and he wagged his tail. Looked good then. Mason looked at the crab and wondered if he could snatch the rest of the dangling pincer-leg. However Hush suddenly picked up the creature and took it over to a rock. Mason followed dutifully, close on Hush’s heels.
 
The pale boy with three mottled paws and fluffy fur leaned in to try and snap at the other wiggly legs which were waving around in the wake of Hush’s hauling. He managed to get hold of one and tugged, starting a bit of a game of tug-o-war. It didn’t last long as the leg broke and Mason chewed on it appreciatively. Perhaps they should put the poor thing out of its misery now. Dad had always said it was bad manners to play with your food.
 
“Go on, you smash it, and then I’ll have a turn if it don’t break.” Mason indicated the big rock surface and waited for Hush to have a go as though it were a fairground entertainment stall: smash the crab.

Hush was not prepared for the sudden game of tug of war, but he didn't decline the invitation. His blood was high, and he needed to expel some of the potential energy stored in his limbs. The hybrid pulled back enthusiastically, his brush of a tail waggling behind him. Their game did not last for long as his companion quickly tore off the arm he was holding.

The coywolfdog needed no more encouragement to crack this thing open. With a toss of his head, the creature was flung against the rock. Hush perked up at the resounding crack that rang through the beach, and trotted over to the creature laying still on the sand, sniffing and nosing it, searching for a crack where he could grab a hold of a piece and start ripping this thing open.

Mason followed after the massive thwack and crack. He stuck close to his companion, and playfully pushed him with a shoulder. Mason’s tongue flicked out to touch  the stony casing of the creature. It was salty, something which made his mouth water. He would not take needed food from the malnourished lone wolf, however.

Mason reached out a paw to pat at the crab. It rolled, exposing a crack. Whether or not it was still alive Mason could not tell – it was still now though, as the massive impact appeared to have mercifully knocked it unconscious. An excited grumbling growl escaped Mason as he tried to bite at the crab with no real effect. It was weirdly slimy as well as hard.

Mason had found the crack before Hush did, depriving the loner of the honor of first bite, but he didn't mind, taking in a larger chunk of the strange creature without hesitation or a second thought. While Hush did give off the appearance of a malnourished loner (which he was not) he was merely hungry, as hungry as Mason most likely was. He didn't begin evaluating the flavor until his second bite of the meat: it was fishy, but with a sponginess he was not accustomed to. The salt levels were high, like he had thought it would. He wondered if all saltwater creatures had that briny taste to them as he tore off the other pincer, the one hanging by a thread, and chewed.

Are you okay to fade this? :) thanks for the fun thread

 
Mason chewed on the piece he had. Goodness it was salty. Mason craved salt sometimes, and now he knew where he would have to go if he wanted a massive kick of it. Down to the sea to eat a crab. Although he guessed he would have to trek it back to the mountain and drop it from a jutting promontory so that he could crack its shell. Mason looked back to his friend as he chewed and finished off his meal. It would be getting dark soon and he should get back. “I’m gonna head off, it was nice to meet’ya. I’m Mason.” Mason listened for a few moments to see if he received a name back in return, then swung around to lope back towards home on his crab-filled belly.

No problem! :D

He continued to dig into the salty creature, allowing his hunting partner to have a bite or two when he shoved near. But eventually, this briny creature was too much for his mountain companion. The boy, who introduced himself as Mason, gave his goodbyes. Pausing in his meal, Hush gave his name in his signature coughing manner, garbled yet clear. With a nod, he watched Mason disappear back towards the silver spire, then focused his attention back on the meal. He wouldn't let this go to waste, especially after all they went through to get to it.