there's a flaw in my design

Though Fox insisted he stay, as soon as she had gone off to tend to her Alpha-ly duties, Haunter's thoughts took him directly out of Swiftcurrent Creek. Not far, but he'd left the territory regardless. Long, loping legs took the black bear of skin and bones down to Lower Arrow Lake, where the tranquil aura of the place soothed his wild and confused thoughts.

His head was kept level to his spine, one ear tucked lightly back, shoulders hulking and roving as the lean brute strode through cool grass and loamy soil to the bank of the shimmering morning lake. Haunter stood out in his bright surroundings, a charred smear of something nasty—like thick, black oil—that marred an otherwise beautiful painting.

Wide eyes took in everything around as he crouched to drink. The ripples he created suddenly began to illogically frighten him. He swore he could hear them, like thunder in his sensitive head, and he cringed away from the water abruptly, turning swiftly to assume a quick, nervous pace around its perimeter. His stalk was cat-like and elegant, despite his disheveled and acutely haggard appearance; but the tense way in which his muscles moved beneath ink and shadow alluded to an animal caged.

More than anything, Haunter looked dangerous.

Eeee Van! <3

He had scouted for weeks now – trailing the herds, he had yet to settle on one that would be good enough. That would bring glory to the pack, and in turn, to the thriving of the little ones Tuwawi had recently given birth to. He had avoided them, naturally, for a mother wolf could be worse than a mother bear, in his mind, but that did not mean he didn’t want the very best for them. They would be the Creek’s future.. at least, until Fox took a mate and was at an age to breed.

Thus far, Lower Arrow Lake held promise to him. The herds sought water, and while the creek was plentiful in that aspect, it also held the scent of the pack. And so, trailing a herd of elk, his eyes scoured them for signs of weakness – those sickly, or young and inexperienced that the pack could bring down – if this herd would fail them, he had found a herd of pronghorn that grazed along the Wapun Meadow.

Breaking from his task, the cinnamon male made his way to the waters, hoping to quench his thirst. His eyes fell upon a dark furred male – haphazard in appearance, and while his scent was unfamiliar, a tinge of the Creek, and more importantly, Fox, emanated from him. Ushering a low bark, Scimitar trailed forward, bristling slightly, his eyes cautiously taking in the other.

I was secretly hoping you'd pop in here, Rach! <3

He froze mid-step as a bark addressed him. Foreleg half-risen in incomplete motion, he took in the opposing male with wide, venomous eyes, pupils engorged with some unreadable sense of wrath. He did not relax upon realizing that this was a wolf from his own pack.

His own pack. The phrase had been foreign to him before, but he'd gotten used to it well enough, even appreciated it. Now, with sickness addling his brain, it was an unattainable puzzle piece to his slowly crumbling life. He could never belong again. Not with knowing that he was being driven to madness, surely every day, with each passing second. Paranoia swelled in his lungs, and for a minute it appeared uncertain if the wild, bristling wolf would bolt or charge.

Instead, after a too-long moment, he put his foreleg down and stood stock-still before the superior male. Rank mattered little to the virile sadist. But in some form of sanity he recognized that it would be unwise to treat this particular wolf with violence, and his virus was momentarily kept at bay.

He watched the crystal-eyed devil in incredible wariness, uncertainty exuding from the black dog in palpable waves. Haunter didn't speak -- he had nothing to say -- but he waited, instead, to see what treachery the beast would bring upon him.

I have missed playing with you far too much to not take the opportunity to jump in. <3

Tension rose quickly in that very moment – the swarthy wraith studied him meticulously, his eyes ablaze with an emotion Scimitar could not pinpoint, if only because the male was a stranger to him. He stilled in that moment, regarding the newcomer with a hardening gaze as the wolf’s limb remained lifted – uncertain whether he would attack or not, the agouti wolf felt no fear of this, if only because his potential opponent was in such rough shape.

When he lowered his limb, Scimitar relaxed slightly, though tension rolled from him as he approached closer, inspecting the Creek’s newcomer. Displaying his dominance only in a way to secure it, his gaze roved over the other before a noncommittal grunt escaped him. “You are?” It was not an unfriendly tone – mere curiosity, brinking the edge of distrust of the dark beast before him.

<3

"Haunter," he rumbled quickly, in that voice of his that was far too raspy to have been used much in his life. He had decided not to move, because getting riled up might make him lose control. He'd go into a blind fit and there was no telling who he would hurt or how long it would last. He breathed thickly, taking in the male's dominant stance and instinctively wanting to challenge it. The knowledge that he shouldn't kept his violence in check.

His long spine prickled slightly, and he did not return the question. His eyes swiveled back and forth for a moment, as if he were looking for an escape, but they returned resolutely to the face of the fine timber before him. He seemed to concentrate and his eyes seemed less wide, crazed. The tip of his lank tail wiggled minutely: I'm no harm.

The male seemed to relax – if only slightly, and while Scimitar was not always the most social creature about, he could see the shift of eyes, as if seeking a way out of this circumstance. With a slight dip of his head, he began to trail towards the water, leaving a respectful enough berth between the two. “Scimitar,” he finally rumbled in return, reaching the lake edge and bending his muzzle down to lap at the cool waters.

His posture might have eased, but his senses remained alerted tenfold – with his nape somewhat exposed to this strange wolf, and his attention seemingly turned away, he was not sure what to encounter.. and somehow, he was almost curious. Likely, the better route would be to excuse himself shortly after and continue scouting for local herds and the prime hunting ground for the Creek.

Yet something within him cringed with untrust for the male beside him, and he wanted to linger and figure out why.

His eyes followed Scimitar's movements until he had trickled out of his line of sight, and he turned his head in the other direction to catch the large wolf pausing for a drink. His scent itched inside his nostrils, tugging at a thought that took much too long to properly formulate; He would realize belatedly that he had smelled this very same male on Fox the night of his arrival, but whether he'd recognize this before or after they parted ways was yet to be seen.

He remained still, watchful, yellowed eyes grazing the lovely curve of the male's neck where surely his vital pulse lie. If churning water didn't dilute most of the sounds in the area, he probably would have been able to detect it as well. An insatiable hunger stole over him, and the insane wolf took one, predatory step in Scimitar's direction.

But then again he remembered that subjects of Fox were not to be harmed, and the low, red buzzing in his thoughts began to dissipate like a fading haze. He licked his chops decisively, then said hoarsely (without moving further): "know how to get rid of a headache?"

Lifting his muzzle once more, the water pooled at his chin, dropping to the ground and his chest before his tongue swiped across his lips. The other had closed some distance between them, and while Scimitar felt more than confident he could take the other on in a battle, if only because of his companion’s poor state, he would rather not. Given Fox’s boot of Ferdie and Jace, it had become apparent unmerited violence was not something the red she-wolf took lightly.

That didn’t mean the other wouldn’t make the first move and the cinnamon wolf would raise his defense.

“Rest out of the sunlight,” he offered his shoulders giving a mild shrug in response. He was no healer, and when he found his head was suffering like the fellow before him, he would find a quiet spot somewhere and sleep it off. “I’m not aware if we have a healer in the ranks, but Fox or Bazi would know.” There was a small pause as he blinked, shifting his weight now to better stabilize his balance should the other make a sudden move. Thus far, Fox’s new recruit was far from impressive.

As moments of silence stretched between the two, Scimitar dipped his muzzle down, sweeping past the other and away from the encounter. It was unnerving, and it was guaranteed that if he stayed much longer, a scuffle might break out.