Blackfeather Woods never seem to find the time

@Redshank

She wandered along the edge of the forest today, for no reason in the particular. Since returning home, she liked to keep to the center, like she always had before. But there was a foreboding within her, since Mou had brought that girl here. Like the other shoe was about to drop at any minute, and if she wasn't vigilant, things would progress faster than she could control.

Maegi was not the most ideal border guard, short and slight of stature. She threw her shoulders back, though, and tried to act as Melonii haughty as she could, a glint in her mismatched eyes. Just try to fuck with her, really. She might not be able to rip your belly open from the outside--but she knew how to do so from the inside.

Lately, she'd had thoughts of harming others. The ones who targeted Mou. Their enemies, still lurking somewhere out there. The thoughts scared her, on occasion, but they mostly brought her comfort, relief.

The island hadn't purged the Blackfeather brutality from her completely.

Oops, forgot to add, he is 100% trespassing so PP away!

The slow, creeping chill of winter was already becoming more of a bite than a sting; each passing day grew a little more colder, a little more darker. It seeped deep into Redshank's bones; he had neither the meat nor the coat to shield his self from the dropping temperatures. Yet even when the herds migrated south and the bears began to hibernate, the Cairn remained. He had no ties here, but he knew that going beyond the familiarity the Wilds - especially on the brink of winter - was a fool's errand.

However, the increasing lack of prey (or rather, their carcasses Redshank scavenged from) was beginning to take its toll. He had, once more, a rangy, skulking aspect to his form. The hungry glint in his eyes had intensified, becoming almost desperate, and the hold on his own wits had frayed. He had become not unlike a coyote - an opportunist.

The smell of rot and decay lured him to the fringes of a deep, dark forest. The scent of wolf hung thick, but it did little to dissuade the boy from temptation. He stalled for a second, licking his lips, before he entered the woods at a predatory, unwavering pace, following the scent of long-dead prey.

Just because she was on-guard didn't mean that she necessarily expected anything, and so the dark, lanky shadow of a man that slipped over the border came as a surprise. She emerged from the brush, hurrying toward him with a scowl painted over her face. Once he was within scenting distance, she inhaled, and found none of the smell that had cloaked the ruddy girl's pelt.

But he was not Blackfeather. And, yet, here he was.

You're trespassing, Maegi said coldly, her voice disturbing the quiet around them. Should he continue to move, she would pursue him; if not, perhaps there was reason to be found. You need to get back over the border, now. Would she have to call for backup? She hoped this wouldn't turn into another mess.

Inward, he headed, deeper into the trees and darkness that swallowed him whole. A raven somewhere far off in the distance cawed, a low, sombre note that Redshank dismissed with a flick of his ear. He had a mission to complete and would not be distracted. He had come to take and to leave. There was no particular reason why he chose these woods; he had just come across it at a time where he had felt bold — and desperate — enough to take his chances.

Pack-scent was everywhere, infiltrating every nook and cranny of the territory and any other, saner individual would have realised their mistake and fled by now. Instead, Redshank pressed on, slowing only when a ghost-like figure emerged to block his path.

She was small in an average way, with a pelt that contrasted the gloominess of her home. The Cairn halted, staring at the stranger blankly. He gave no indication if her words actually registered in his mind, but his eyes traced the grisly scar that ran up the side of her mouth, exposing a row of teeth. He let the silence after her demand linger for a moment before replying flatly, "I smell prey." It was all he wanted. His attention slipped from her then, and he went to move past the girl further into the forest, his pace unhurried but resolute.

Well, okay then. He didn't heed her warning a bit, instead traveling deeper into the woods. Outraged, Maegi followed after him, stumbling over brush and branches. It's our prey, the girl snarled. You're on Blackfeather land. You need to leave.

She caught up after a few moments and began to nip at his heels, his flanks, like a demented sheepdog. Should she land the blows was up to him and how well he dodged them. All Maegi knew was that she needed to get this guy out of here, and soon. He may not have the Redhawk scent on him, but he was still trespassing.

And perhaps it was worse that he had no identifiable scent. The Redhawks wanted Mou, and to find Ceara. This man could do anything; he certainly was desperate enough to cross borders in search of food. He was an enigma, an unknown threat, and he must be stopped.

She didn't outright attack, instead only hurling further indignant demands in his direction — it only served to fuel Redshank's foolish confidence. She seemed young. Perhaps an aspiring border guard, eager to prove that she was able to take on intruders by herself. His pace hastened ever so slightly, deep down knowing he was pushing his luck the more he ignored the girl.

The name Blackfeather didn't stir any recognition, they were simply a pack that had ample stores (or so he believed) that would satisfy his hunger. It was a well marked place, surely they were a large enough pack that they would not miss a few missing pieces of their caches.

The pack member was quick to catch up with him and began to nip and bite at his hindquarters like an aggravated pest. One such bite caught him on the sensitive area of his ankle, and Redshank spun with a snarl, eyes flaring but he didn't retaliate. Not yet. Instead, he stared, locking back onto the disfiguring wound upon her face, before trailing to her forepaw that seemed to grotesquely curl in on itself. Was this why she sought to stop him with words alone?

"I will leave," he said at length. "After." And with that, he made to turn and continue to bullheadedly follow the trail.

He was so insolent. She hated him already. And normally, he wouldn't have gotten under her skin this much. However, it had been a hard moon for Maegi, and the constant threat of Redhawks had began to wear her patience thin. This situation was the last straw.

There were things she probably should have done rather than what she ended up doing, like:

• call for backup
  
• get the fuck out of there
  
• try to poison the guy
  
• befriend him and recruit him to Blackfeather
  
• did I say nope the fuck out of there?
  
• let's throw call for backup in again for good measure
  

Instead, without hesitation, Maegi, sprang toward the man with teeth and claws bared, seeking to rake down his side like she had with the elk.

Was she just as stubborn as he? Or maybe just as stupid. Whatever the case, the girl still hadn't summoned the pack (for which Redshank was grateful, truly, maybe they had fewer numbers than he had first thought) and instead lunged, fangs unsheathed and claws aiming to tear at his side. He released a snarl of his own, rearing and aiming to throw his body weight into her charge.

The small girl was quick, however, and her claws met their mark, leaving bloody wounds down his sides that traced his ribcage. Redshank released a sharp cry of pain, turning his head and aiming for her, face, ears, neck — anything he could grab ahold of.

She was pleased to find purchase, and raked, and raked, and raked, coming away with blood smearing her snowy coat. Maegi drew back and snarled, only for him to come at her with the same force she had employed (it was really only fair). She felt his jaws rake the ruined side of her face, tearing a line perpendicular to her half-Glasgow smile.

The girl yelped, and then let out a quick howl, hoping the pack would get the message from there. It was clear that to take on this man alone was folly. Perhaps she was in too deep already, which meant that she would have to find a way to break the surface before she received backup.

You fucker, she shrieked, and went for his own visage with claws--maybe she could take an eyeball with her, give it to Mou as a present.

Despite the sudden surge of adrenalin coursing through his veins, his sides began to burn in agony. The frigid temperature of the dark forest stung the fresh wounds, making it hard for the boy to breath. Still, he came at her all the same, managing to tear the flesh at the ruined side of her muzzle. The victory was short-lived, however, as she pulled back and finally let out a call for her pack. Redshank froze, eyes widening in the first show of true fear since he had set foot in her packlands. No.

"Shut the fuck up," he hissed through clenched teeth as her shrieking voice echoed throughout the trees. He threw a quick, sweeping glance around the area, chest heaving from both exertion, pain, and now...terror. Suddenly she was coming at him again with a renewed fury, blood staining her youthful features. Redshank barely had time to react. Claws raked across the center of his face, only just missing his eyes by inches but leaving deep lacerations between them. He backed away with a yowl, pawing at the gashes which only served to aggravate them and spill more blood onto the snowy forest floor.

[WC: 637]

Titmouse woke in the cave and he felt the chill of the shadows that blanketed him. He had been sleeping for long hours within the confines of Wolfskull ever since his emotional episode with Maegi, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to leave. He lurked there. Refusing to eat, barely staying conscious, until he felt the pull of his animal hunger drawing him out in to the light. The light was too much at first; but he crawled along, wincing at the sharp quality of it as it penetrated his pupil. How long had he been hiding? He couldn't tell, but in the end it didn't matter.

As the boy meandered through the forest he came across the scent of Maegi, and he paused. It wasn't a strong scent but it brought mixed emotions to light within him; he winced from these too, not yet ready to deal with the tumult of it all. He chose to deviate from where the scent was leading him and soon found himself loitering along the edge of the territory. The ripe scent of the Blackfeather markings stopped him in his tracks despite it being so familiar - or perhaps because it was so familiar. More feelings that dredged up and he was not prepared for. Titmouse had too much history with the Blackfeathers and he could remember every bit of it — the war he ignored, the broken leg, the kidnapping, Cassiopeia. The poppies. Being cared for, being loved, Maegi. He wanted to leave, and he wanted to stay.

Could all of the chaos of his life be distilled in to a definitive answer? Leave because of the bad - stay because of the good --?

Titmouse sighed. He breathed deeply of that scent, let it fill him up to bursting, and then exhaled. The rush of air calmed him a little bit. He was stuck deliberating for a moment longer when he saw Blue flit by him, almost unnoticed because the tiny bird zipped through the blackness of his bad side, but the little thing was smart enough to land where Titmouse could see him. There was a pebble in the bird's beak. The bird opened its mouth to let out a shrill call, and the stone hit the ground. Titmouse didn't react except to turn away - shun the offering, if that's what it was.

And then, he caught it. A scent on the wind that was just as familiar as Maegi's, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the rogue; images of the Redhawks confronting him upon the plateau came to mind, and Titmouse's jaw tightened, his lips forming a straight line as a frown took up residence across his broken face. Before he knew it, he was striding away from the border and deeper in to the territory; it wasn't far, but it was certainly the wrong direction considering the boy he remembered was not a member of Blackfeather. Unless that too had changed, and Titmouse was really as confused as he felt.

The nearer he got, the louder things got too. There was the sound of subdued voices and then snarling, a clash — and Titmouse was suddenly running, his senses cued in to the distress flooding the woods — only to skid to a stop moments later, staring at two of his closest friends locked in combat. The boy spied blood, fresh wounds, and — and then Maegi was shrieking something — Redshank was screaming, the chaos — it was like the chaos of his rivalling lives had spilled out in front of him and all he could do was stand there and

screech

STOP IT!

He didn't know who he was targeting as he threw himself at the fighting wolves, but he was intent on driving himself between them. He would make it stop — he would make all of this shit stop now.

She was caught up in the fury of fighting, her heart pounding hard in her chest and her vision a blur. She continued her onslaught against the intruder, and when the sound of pawsteps grew louder, she was hopeful that she had backup at last. But--

STOP IT!

Perhaps if in a better state of mind, Maegi would have known the scream to be Mou's. But the assault that should have aided in her fight against the trespasser did not come; instead, a pale wraith wedged between them. Now all she could think was that this man had friends and they were here to help--

In a fight now for her life, Maegi set her teeth on both figures before her, panting with more fear than anything else. The world turned red. 

All was blood and shadows.

Blood pooled in the gash across his muzzle, seeping into his eyes and blurring his vision. He continued to swipe at his face but his attempts to stem the bleeding were in vain — it just kept coming. And so too did the frenzied girl. Biting, tearing, clawing at his form as Redshank tried to pry free, blinded by his own blood spill. It was not until a voice suddenly ricocheted though the trees — stop it! — did he stop his struggle, turning in the direction of the second assailant.

All he caught was the silver form of wolf, as pale and ghostly as the first, seeking to interfere...before he too was set upon by the girl.

In the struggle, Redshank felt the body of one of the Blackfeathers crash into his bloodied side, and the ground beneath his paws tilted violently. He crashed into the earth with a yelp, paws scrabbling against the dirt as he tried to pull himself away as quickly as he could, taking advantage of the feverish thrill the girl seemed to be caught in. Kill him for me.

He should not have been so reckless, but Titmouse was a creature of raw emotion and reaction - an unstable beast that never thought things through. Becoming Mou had only minorly tempered all of that, apparently. He drove himself between the warring wolves and immediately realized his mistake, because it was Maegi's teeth that delivered blows to his already mutilated side; she wasn't going to stop, filled with a blood rage that frenzied her snapping teeth in to a blur. The pain was instantaneous as she sliced her way through his flesh. Titmouse did what came naturally and pulled his face away from her teeth but she still managed to cleave a good chunk of his cheek away - a bloodied mass pulling off of the side of his face as he moved. Her teeth caught against the side of his jaw and likely scored the bone with how abruptly they struck and drew back. He tried to wedge his shoulder in to her neck to choke the violence out of her, make her retreat and pause long enough to get a breath (either of them) or to think (again, either of them). The other wolf -- the one he knew as Redshank -- had withdrawn.

Whether Titmouse managed to succeed in his efforts or not, he was temporarily disabled by the pain of Maegi's assault and could not speak again, and barely staggered a step before he felt dizzy from the blood loss. His ghostly figure was streaked with fresh blood, and he cut a menacing figure all the same as he stared wide-eyed at the boy on his good side; he saw Redshank, bloodied and battered and angry, and his gaze turned sharp with recognition.

Her eyes fixed on the intruder as he crashed to the ground, and she spared him no mercy, launching his way like a demented kitten. "GET OUT!" she bellowed, overtaken by the spirit of some dangerous god, like Mehrunes, or. . .Molag Bal. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

Once she was satisfied in the damage she had inflicted--and hoping that he would take her words to heart--she turned to stare down the other. . .and the blood drained abruptly from her face. His own visage was painted in blood, his, hers, the stranger's--but mostly his. Maegi stumbled backward, mouth gaping like a landed fish, mismatched gaze wide and round as full moons.

"Why did you do that?!" she cried, the horror clear in her voice. "Why did you try to break us apart? Why didn't you help me?" The utter guilt she felt at marring his face mixed with the anger at his apparent betrayal, and these two emotions battled it out, vying for mastery. Voices swirled and screamed around her, and her skull burst in a splitting headache, her eyes screwing shut.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!" Maegi demanded, tears of anger turning the blood on her face to pink.

The sickening sound of flesh tearing and the metallic scent of blood filled the air as the girl turned on the unknown third party. Redshank, wheezing from both exertion and pain, heaved his shaking form across the frosted battle ground as she engaged the other - this was his chance! He set his sights on the direction he had entered the woods, crawling towards it inch by inch, only to feel the sting of teeth against his nape as she redirected her focus onto him once more. With a yelping growl, he cowered, tucking his neck into his chest as she ripped and tore with an unexpected ferocity.

Before it finally stopped, and a momentary silence interrupted the chaos. The Cairn looked up cautiously, locking onto the single, yellow eye of the stranger, almost seeming to glow against the darkness of the forest. It stared back at him knowingly, and he felt his mouth open slightly in shock. "Scr-?" was all he managed to get out before the girl began a renewed assault - this time verbally.

All at once, he was reminded of the awful screeching of that Redhawk woman when they had chased them from the Plateau, and Redshank tore his gaze away from the battered, one-eyed ghost and to the shrieking girl. If her howl hadn't alerted the rest of the pack by now, her screaming surely would. He quickly struggled to his feet, a laborious, painful move, and once more began to retreat into the trees in a fog of confusion and pain. He had to get out.

Between the ringing in his ears from her shouting and the adrenaline-fueled endorphin rush of his torn face, Titmouse's reaction was not exactly scripted. He heard Maegi but he also didn't; he saw Redshank but he also didn't. When the girl sank back and sob-screamed until her voice was nothing but a gargle, he didn't notice. Titmouse was busy staring down the dark shape of his once-friend and with a quake to his stride, pulled himself at a precarious pace away from Maegi and towards him — towards the boy with whom he had more shared history. The last time he had seen Redshank had been — had been — at home, when the Redhawks had come to their doorstep.

Redsang, he slurred. It was impossible to tell if his lack of pronunciation was from his throat injury or the blood that was dribbling down his cheek and in to his mouth; probably a mix. Didn't matter anyways. His head started to pound as his adrenaline ebbed. He winced - licked his lips - tasted the warm blood but was ignoring it with a strange determination.

R-Redsang, wh.. why aren'd you at the plateau? Titmouse had no memory of his coma, and certainly had no recollection of the void-like moments where he was nowhere; he'd come-to just as Towhee gripped him tight and threw him to hell, more or less. The in-between moments were a blur. There wasn't much time before Titmouse staggered and slouched, his blood pooling on the ground beneath his bleeding face at a rate that sped up his disorientation. First a concussion from Tegan - now this. But he had to know.

Mou wasn't chasing him out. He was--he was calling him by name. Redsang. It sounded enough like Redhawk to her to give her pause, and she gaped at him for a long moment, eyes darting wildly between the two of them. Then--

Who is this, Mou? Maegi asked, the hysteria in her voice frosting over from the fire it was before. How do you know him? Who is this? Then the Melonii rounded on the bleeding stranger, padding up close enough to thrust her nose in his face. You need to get out, she hissed, flecks of blood-tinged drool spattering against his cheeks. Get. Out.

Anger. Shock. Guilt. Gods, the guilt. She turned, slowly, gaze fixed on Mou's wounds--the wounds she had given him--and she stared for a long moment, her expression lifeless. Get him out, she commanded. He's trespassing. Get him out, or I'll tell the Dark Master that you helped him.

She spun on her heel and padded away, shoulders stiff.

Nothing would bring her woods to ruin. Even if she had to destroy all the rest of her heart in the process.

There was the sickening sound of flesh tearing along with the metallic smell of blood filling the air. And lots of it. Redshank watched it splatter against the frosted ground, staining it red. He struggled forward a few more paces, dragging his heaving, shaking form across the ground with effort. He glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze connecting with the singular eye of an old friend once more for a brief moment. He tore away with effort, focusing back on the girl who's screams had become laced with a calmer ice. She entered his vision, a pale, blood-flecked wraith who he turned away from as she spat in his face. The fact that she was generously sparing his life was lost on him, as the boy's mind was only focused on getting away.

R-Redsang. He turned back to the other, a washed-out version of someone he used to know. But it couldn't be him. But how did he know his name? The familiar yet foreign, haggard creature lurched forward before falling into a slump, and Redshank scrambled back with a defensive snarl, overcome by panic. "Get away," he hissed, struggling to his feet. The girl had finally retreated after giving a command, though it was only a matter of time before others of the pack would be drawn to them.

The Cairn stared at the bleeding, one-eyed boy a long moment in confusion and anger. No, it wasn't him. It couldn't be. Despite the question asked in that haunting, raspy voice, Redshank silently turned away from the stranger and fled the woods as fast as he could, ignoring the limp, ignoring the wounds one his sides and face, ignoring the ghost of a past friend. Onward he ran, until he was clear from the oppressive woods. And then he kept running.