Arrow Lake the pariah

@Cortland forward dated 3 days

follow the scent.

the aroma of flesh and blood had washed over him; there were wolves nearby. the stygian wraith seemed as though he was alive with the premise of such promising things. all that waiting - all that wanting. he had passed days by searching only for the taste of the blood that he shared. the ghoul peered curiously upward at the mountain across the lake. while water lapped lazily at the shores, he allowed his aching feet to find a release from carrying the weight of his ragged frame. 

drawing inkjet eyes to the sunspire across the placid waters, the ghoul released an exhale that rattled his figure and sent a wheeze from the back of his throat. the blood that had pooled around his muzzle before had crusted there, leaving a reminder and a warning for any who might dare cross his path. then, the fiend lowered his crown to drink the water. when he had quenched his thirst, the ghoul drew his dark tongue along his muzzle and recollected the memory of his last kill. it was oh so satisfying. 

He journeyed in silence, without pause for rest or sustenance in any form. Each slight hesitation, every moment his paws lingered just a beat too long the knife twisted deeper into his chest. Only constant movement kept the cutting sensation at bay. His pads were raw, legs sore, eyes dry and aching. His stomach complained, and a tender pulsing behind his right eye warned of an impending migraine. He trudged on nonetheless.
The Mayfair was more careful this time as he descended toward the lake below. The blade ground itself deeper into his flesh, familiarity prickling at him like a million little spider bites at the tender edges of the wound. "Well met... you're hurt." He sucked air in quickly through his teeth, gaze trained on the water with such singularity he missed the presence of the other wolf entirely. Fully descended now, Cortland crept to the shoreline, eyes glazed over.
"Do you want to know about your family for their sake... or for yours?" He hadn't known the answer then. Slow, shuffling steps took him right to the edge of the water. If he turned just slightly, he'd have seen the shadow lurking at the lake's edge, not far at all; if he lifted his nose to the sky and focused a moment, he'd have scented the stranger. He did neither, argent eyes fixed on each ripple of the water's surface. He knew now; now, searching for answers he'd never get for the second time in his life, he knew that it was for none but himself. Buried somewhere deep between his ribs, the knife turned white-hot and scathing.

there was a stunning golden presence nearby that was difficult to miss against the light of the shimmering waters. of course, with his inkjet coat and his sunken eyes, the ghoul did well to make himself hidden. it was as though the devil had blessed him with such a coat for that very reason. to hide in the darkness of the world was a skill and a treat so few were able to experience. what a divine blessing that he should know the pleasures of seclusion in the night. 

it was often wasted.

the ghoul made move to sink his greasy paws into the waters of the lake so that it lapped against his ankles. he cared not for the sound that it made, for as the chilling touch of the water brushed against his flesh, the reaper unhinged his jaw and drew in a sickly sounding drag of air. it hinged on every pasty glob of blood and slobber that had formed in his cavernous mouth. the noise was something akin to suction through a tube laced in slime. the wraith was astonished that the waters should be so cold. he knew hell to only be a place of misery.