Overture Downs Let's raise some hell, shall we?

@Zugzwang - but other people are welcome to join as well.

If a young person has declared their independence from adults, then it means they have to hunt for themselves too. Nunataq was DIY hunter-in-the-making, because other people's attempts to teach her something by using verbal cues and awkward gestures had mostly failed. Which left the girl to fend for herself. And while this approach was slower and she had to deal with a lot of trials-and-errors, in the past few months she had made a considerable progress still. Small creatures were easier and less energy consuming to get, larger one's like rabbits - you had to start on them in a smart way. They were fast little bastards and by no means stupid. After many unsuccessful sprints with the lagomorphs, Nuna had come to a conclusion that she could not outrun them - they were simply better - but that she had to be cunning to catch them.

And this is exactly, what she had managed to do this morning. She had started out early and by a chance happened to come close to a rabbit that had been hiding in the grass. An effect of surprise had been her advantage over her prey, she had managed to cut it's path off the moment it had begun to run, grabbed it by the back and pinned it down. The part of actual killing had been a little more difficult to manage, because she could not figure out, how to move her grip upwards to the tender neck, in order to crush it. What she did instead, was picking it up and shaking the thing, while pressing her canines and molars into the rabbit's flesh until they punctured the skin, went through the muscle. A crack, a muffled squeak followed and a moment later Nunataq was looking down at her first successful hunt as an adult.

Out of habit she cast her glance around to see, if any adult was nearby to say "Good Girl! Well done!", but she snapped out of it, when she reminded herself that it did not matter the least, what others thought. She had done well by her standards. All that was left here to do was to settle down and eat. This she did without hesitation, tearing her breakfast to pieces and gobbling it down quickly, without chewing it much. Warm blood splattered on the ground and the inviting smell of fresh meat wafted in the air.

447 words

The smell of fresh blood would've drawn the cat out of hiding, if he hadn't been so inundated with the scent already. His body had been through the ringer by this point - battle after battle with wolves had done some damage to him, and he wanted to lay low for a while and recover before continuing his crusade against the lesser species; however, he was now in possession of a bushy black wolf tail (which he carried gleefully) and he felt much more invigorated compared to the battle-weariness he had begun to succumb to days ago. He could continue, if only to gather more pieces of these creatures, trophies which he could show off to women-folk when the time came to continue his bloodline. He was here in the Wilds for breeding opportunities, after all. Perhaps his rage was also couched in the inability to find that precise release — he had found this place inundated with wolves and not a single cat, and it infuriated him.

But, yes, he should have smelled the fresh rabbit blood, and he could not, because his nose was filled with the musk of the fresh tail he had torn from a young black wolf. He did hear some sort of commotion nearby, and that made him pause, survey the shadows and the snow, but he couldn't see any shapes worth investigating; so Zugzwang continued, and when he was much closer he could spy the spry shape of a young wolf in the snow. The red of the fresh blood bloomed around their figure, like the rabbit had fallen from quite a height and popped on impact. He grinned around the tail clutched in his teeth, and began to devise a new strategy - a game, something to lure the child closer.

He set himself up nearby but made sure to keep the wind's position in mind. Zugzwang dropped the tail on one side of a cluster of bushes, mostly shrouded in darkness, and placed himself within the darkness just beyond it. From here, he could spy the small thing between the gaps in the bush; he thought that he smelled distinctly canine at the moment since he had encountered so many, and because the tail was so fresh, so the plan appeared to be simple - and as wolves were not bright things, not as bright as cats typically, Zugzwang was certain this would work.

He called out with a piteous note to his voice, Hello? Hello? I hear you out there — please, help me, his voice carried across the snow and to the waiting child, and while he waited for a reaction he tested his claws against the dirt with anticipatory flexing.

The more Nunataq ate, the stronger the hunger inside her grew, which was odd, because usually things happen the other way round. Had she known or been able to tell the difference between the physical hunger (ache and rumbling of her stomach, empty feel) and the several kinds of, how her brain could be famished, she would have realized that the adrenaline and bloodlust was still circulating and that the smell of the still warm and fresh blood was that kept the wheels of her predatory mind spinning, craving for more. The same instinct that makes stray dogs kill a herd of sheep, rather than taking down just one and devour it.

By the time she had an audience (which she had not caught sight off yet) of a big cat, who enjoyed fighting, dismembering wolves and assembling one of his own from the various body parts he had torn off in the process, the girl had almost finished with her meal. Her stomach heavy with all of the food it had to process (quite a job, since Nuna did not chew much), while she was still going through the grass and earth that had served as a plate for the food, licking up every last bit of blood that was left there. Then it happened - a sickeningly sweet, cooing voice from the darkness, needy and pleading, but with a hint of fake in it as well. The girl stopped, what she had been doing, looked up and listened intently.

She was not a particularly empathic person, therefore she was more baffled by the invisible caller itself than inclined to go right away and see, who needed help. Her mind processed, what facts it had already picked up (odd, false, suspicious), came to a conclusion that there was something very wrong about this, turned on her heel and began to walk towards Lost Creek Hollow, stopping often and looking over her shoulder, in order to find out, whether the mysterious person was following her.

it says AW SOOOOOOOOOO... hi.

the hollow's littlest graverobber did not escape indra's notice - as of late, she had seen a change overcome the girl. nunataq had always been her own steward, but now more than ever she seemed remote, willfully so.

that it puzzled and hurt indra to see this change was no small estimate; she wondered if the girl in her own way was simply gathering her wings under her, and readying enough room to fly.

still...

she didn't like it much.

some children might be resentful for their overbearing parents, nunataq no exception, but indra had always been a rather overbearing and obsessive person - and once she found that flaw, wound, or wart, would pick and pick until it all made sense to her.

today of all days she had decided she had given nunataq enough of her own space following their strange altercation in the thin moonlight. the girl was proving elusive as a fish in rushwater, yet just as she was about to give up she heard a plaintive call sound through the wilderness.

at some other point in the future indra might look back and have noticed how wrong it seemed; the lack of chattering birds, the sudden silence of the forest, the overwrought falseness of the voice -- but present-indra noticed no such things, and carefully made towards the call with her ears pricked and eyes searching for the presumably wounded creature.

WC: 361

The lust that plagued the beast was something that would likely never abate, no matter how many wolves he tore to pieces, nor wound he garner across his massive body. He was poised in the darkness like a sphynx spilling riddles in the form of his piteous voice, hoping to lure the child closer. Maybe he wouldn't harm her after all. He thought of all the things he could do to something that small, and as a plethora of concepts invaded his superior brain he had to hold back some of his desire to laugh—so he purred softly instead, so brief and so quiet it was like the rustling of old leaves in the woods.

What could he do to the child? What could he do. Really, if the thing came close enough, he could fashion her in to some kind of snack. She was small enough to be more of a nuisance than a threat to him, and as both a cat and a male he had the distinctive feral drive to grab at her, to toss her around. She was the size (and if he continued to spy, the complexion) of a cub born to his own people; this would not save her. Men were known for killing the children of other men, and Zugzwang was no different. But other thoughts came—for he did not have to end her life so swiftly, as satisfying as that would be. He could take her away from here, do things in private—

—Ah, but she was not alone. After briefly losing sight of the dark-capped girl he heard someone, or some thing, drifting closer to the exposed tail and his cooing voice. The foot-falls were not as chaotic as the child's, which led him to believe it was someone older. A guardian perhaps. Maybe the child's own mother—what an enticing thought. So, Zugzwang continued with the ploy and put his mind to work on the present moment rather than all that could be. He carefully tugged at the detached tail and from where it sat on the forest floor, it looked almost alive.

Mother, mother—is that you? I need help, mommy, please—

Someone passed Nunataq in the opposite direction. It was dark enough not to make out, who it was, but this made the girl stop and follow the movement with narrowed eyes and alertness. The tail of smell followed the creature soon after and she was surprised to find out that this was someone she knew well.

Indra? For a moment the girl's face up lit up in recognition, then it changed to a scowl. Her caretaker had given the moody teenager enough space to make the latter believe that this was going to stick. Apparently not. Had she followed her? Quite possibly, because Nuna was not too careful of, where she left her footprints or scent linger.

She was about to huff and leave the scene, without making her presence known, but then that sickeningly sweet voice raised in the air again. It grated against Nuna's already angry brain as a sand-paper. She snapped around and let out a loud and angry bark "RRRUFFF!!!" with an intention to make that person shut up and not realizing that she was making her location known to, whoever the source for the voice was.

too many things hit indra at once. the overwhelming scent of blood, rising in red iron in her lungs. the apparent drop in temperature, inexplicable as the chill that rode her spine. the plaintive, piteous call -- that somehow was hideous in tune.

counterfeit as it was, indra didn't know better --

and then the RUFF loud and unmistakably nunataq. close.

she lurched forward, seized suddenly by a sickening panic -- was nunataq in danger, had whatever thing hurt that woeful caller also descended upon her?

indra splintered through the brush in time to see nunataq and the dash of a ragged tail. her gaze scanned the limp way it moved, wrong and lifeless despite its carrying movement: and then her gaze set on feral eyes, wide as dinnerplates.. a reflective, chilling green of nocturnal fury flashed back.

"nuna," indra fumbled, her voice a hiss -- "nuna, run."

He had left the tail partially exposed for the obvious ploy it presented — but it would not work, at least not as intended, as the child did not come when called for. The shuffling of the tail's tip was done with an occasional punch of his claws, leaving his mouth available if he should ever get his target close enough. It wasn't until the child called out that Zugzwang caught on to their position, which was further than he had initially judged. After that call, there was movement. It wasn't from the same area and that told Zugzwang the rest.

The mother was here and she was getting closer — if he could not have one, he would take the other. If he could, he'd take them both and add to his growing body-count. Perhaps their tails would become his new fixation. The girl came closer and he finally caught her in his eyes — no, it wasn't the same dark face, the same tawny coat. His gaze adjusted rapidly to the addition of the fiery coat of the mother, his pupils fully dilated in the dark — his body tense and ready to spring.

And then, she saw him. Their eyes met — his, focused in that chilling manner of a hungry animal.

Her's, sharp and afraid.

Zugzwang rose up from the darkness and sprang for her without a second thought. The tail lay abandoned behind him as he took one stride, two, and closed the distance — his lure had worked, just not as intended. If he could get his claws on this woman then his blood-thirst could be satiated. He didn't hear her voice as she issued her command to the child, so intent was he to sweep in and strike; within moments of the sound he would be there before her, a snarl on his blunt face, swinging his massive, weaponized fists.

It happened in a flurry of moments; the look, the reaction, the attack. Whether he got one hit in or many, his eyes were looking around the mother for that sweet little child. They had always been his primary target. Once the mother was gone, he would do such sweet things to the girl.

Things had not been alright from the very beginning and then suddenly they became worse at a very rapid speed. Nunataq spotted Indra, heard her command and had she been a more obedient and less stubborn child, she would have run without looking back. She would have been safe.

But she did not, because she did not trust her caretaker. The older wolf had been unreasonable before. Instead she took some steps towards her, about to meet her and do her best to calm her down, to tell that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Not to fear?

This scenario did not play out, because an impostor destroyed the scene. Something big and strong lunged itself out of the darkness and right at Indra. A green eyed demon, reeking of agressiveness and malice. Time slowed for the girl, something primal awoke inside her, a deadly calm took over her.

The most dangerous fights are not the loud scuffles as some people would want to believe, but the one's that take place in silence. The girl did not make a sound, when she attacked the big cat, aiming for the side of it's face, murder in her eyes.

Not my mommy, you bastard!

there is an old understanding about the world: dog hates cat, cat hates dog. perhaps somewhere in every cat lingers the genetic memory of an ancestor getting torn to shreds by a berserk pack of hounds; and in perhaps every dog, an old and distant memory of pups purloined and fed to mewling kittens.

indra didn’t have time to contemplate the divisive discord between the two species; in fluid, athletic strides no dog could ever rival, the cat was upon her.

she had hoped nunataq had run but dimly, she was aware that to believe the girl would back down was terrible folly. indra only had time to balk before the shadow that crossed her followed with the impact of fangs and claws; she was bowled clean over by the attack.

she wasn’t aware of the shriek that loosened from her mouth; it wasn’t a scream of terror so much as a curdling cry of defiance — a mother’s rarely uttered, yet terrible to witness, warcry.

she would be overpowered in a matter of seconds but she would not make those seconds pass in vain. snarling, Indra lunged for one of the paws that came after her: if she got it, she would hold it — begging internally that nunataq would have the good sense to flee before the cat made short work of them.

under the concussive beat of strikes and the raking arc of claws, indra became aware of a quiet but ominous warmth seeping her pelt. the surge of adrenaline in her was enough to temporarily mitigate the pain — but distantly she was aware of her body’s protests, and the grim collection of wounds that was fast appearing.

stigmata was carrying a chain with him.

a ton's worth of metal draped over his shoulders. it tethered him to something distant in the east - its long, massive, and corroded links leaving a legendary trench rupturing wider and deeper each step he took away from the anchor. even for such an experienced wolf, this was an immeasurable weight to bear; one he could not honestly say he had felt before.

he wanted to be rid of it - this weight of inescapable suffering - the burrowing curse of an idea that his honor, his very integrity as a wolf had been besmirched by an inability to tolerate his hurt feelings. hadn't he been bred hard and resilient to such things? was he not crafted to obey, and to protect, no matter the cost to him physically? no matter the detriment to him mentally?

as easy as it was for him to move on from some things, this chain he couldn't let go of.

so he came down from the mountains to dismantle the anchor.

he wasn't expecting the sudden surge of agency and need to protect said anchor when he saw her retaliating tooth and nail against a devil-made assailant. stigmata barely registered that nunataq was there too before breaking into a sprint, loosing a barrelling distress-howl out to any possible canine in the vicinity, as he tore through branchlings and surged across the snow like a grey river; he could only pray to reach the group before they were cut to ribbons.

mouth like a gun and teeth like bullets, stigmata aimed to taste hellcat hide and he would settle for little else.

In the fury of the moment, Zugzwang wished for nothing more than the savoring of his assault; the spray of blood across the snow, the warmth of it between his digits, the shrieking of a wolf in pain — yet as he went for the mother, the child sprang in to action. What a pathetic attempt! He would have laughed has he been capable in that fleeting moment; he managed to grin as the mother buckled beneath his lunge but he did not continue the onslaught, instead turning his attention towards the child that was trying in vain to intervene. Wolves were stupid things and they bred stupidity in to each generation, it was glorious. The child was so small compared to him! So weak, but trying their best to distract him — it worked merely for the comedic effect that Zugzwang found in it. It might've been a horrible moment for the child, a painful one for the mother, but to the cat it was a game — bloody, horrifying, and sadistic, but a game none-the-less, and he would come out the winner.

The cat lunged again, shoving the mother in to the dirt with one kick of his limbs, and went for the dark-faced child. He misjudged the distance in his frenzy but swiped anyways, eager to feel the tiny body crumble beneath his mighty claws, and whether or not he was successful — there was an abrupt change in the atmosphere. His small ears twisted when the sound of a howl pierced through the air and Zugzwang was caught by the surprise of this additional body barrelling towards him. He would not yield; there was time enough for the agitated, hungry cat to strike at the child or turn back to the mother, but he had to choose quickly — and so he let the smaller creature go, and struck at Indra; she was closer, and a larger target. She was bloodied already and might just lose her life to his rage.

But, inevitably, this third wolf interrupted their encounter. He moved like gunsmoke; the cat was so focused on doing the most damage he could, that the wolf slipped through his periphery and came to the defense of the broken mother before Zugzwang could do much else. He felt the teeth of the beast sink in to some part of his body and he yowled, the assault fueling his anger more than anything. It hurt, and Zugzwang would be forced to reconsider his presence and his tactics, but he wasn't going to leave yet. If anything Stigmata's assault urged the cat to linger — it was one healthy wolf versus a giant angry cat, and Zugzwang was livid enough to forget about the real odds for the time being.

If he wasted too much time, he would be overwhelmed by the arrival of more wolves — but he needed to shake himself free of this fool, and his bloodlust demanded that he make the dark wolf pay dearly for the interruption.

The cat was quick to react and his swipe missed Nunataq by an inch and forced her to change her trajectory mid-leap. She fell in the grass, surprisingly on all four feet, giving her enough time to spring around and assess the situation. Someone else had come to their aid - it was dark and she was unable to tell, whether she knew or did not know this guy - but after judging the situation in haste, she decided to attack from behind. The reason being - out of the way of fangs and powerful claws, she would have an easier access. She ruled out haunches or sides right away, settling for the attacker's tail and aiming to bite it and thus distract him.

agony tore through indra like a bullet as she was flung into the dirt, her breath stolen from her body. she tried to rise, and it was as if a flame had extinguished all air inside of her; it burned through her ribcage and constricted her throat, sending her muscles into spasms of noncompliance.

the shadowcat would surely have killed her, were it not for his sudden shift in attention. indra shakily rose limping to her feet as a flash of grey entered the scene, a bellicose frenzy lent to his form as he clashed with hellcat hide.

she knew instinctively who it was -- and with a guttural growl shook off the stupor that clung to her. her breath was still shaky, but slowly regaining regularity -- fighting against the exhaustion that stole over her, indra lunged after the whirling cat shortly after nunataq.

every conviction, strength, and ire she ever had was aimed like a furious mallet sent swinging, gunning for cat and flesh alike: for such a small creature, the defiant fury in indra was overwhelming and she threw herself for hock or haunch, anything at all to quarter the bitch that dared try to steal her daughter from her.

as each critically lengthened stride brought him closer to the hellcat, stigmata had time to realize that the lithe beast was too busy trying to savage his defiant prey to defend himself properly against its oncoming assailant. maddened by hunger or some other mental inhibition, the warhound knew he must do as much damage as he could and retreat, all in one swift motion or he would be severely damaged by this creature's merciless fishhooks.

he went for a glancing blow - a hit and run - and he half dragged the brute's hindquarters when his aim struck true: teeth razoring very briefly into the fine, ropy muscles lining the cat's lean hip, and then gone just as quick. a keepsake welt of blood left in stigmata's place. he could feel the cat swing hotly after him, and he hoped to lead the enraged fiend as far away from its original targets as possible - even if he could earn them only a few precious feet of respite.

stigmata would try to elude and frustrate the cat further, much in the tactics of a savanna canid; returning fiercely if he was ignored - fleeing if he was targeted. though just a single wolf, this was a battle he was willing to die for; a fact that made him fearful of nothing but the possibility of indra and/or nunataq not surviving the encounter. for this monster, haggard and manic-eyed, with maybe twenty pounds on him, could not terrorize stigmata more than he already had.

and he would let the demon stand here no longer.

Z is out!

It would not take much before Zugzwang was outmatched, and this dark beast knew it just as well as he did. They came at him in bursts, distracting him for longer and longer periods and then distancing themselves each time the cat's mighty claws swung in retaliation. Zugzwang felt his hits sweep the air more often than touch down upon any body; he snarled and hissed and gave a great show of his frustration, but it was the wolf who would come out on top. He was adamant that he linger and pulverize the mother — tear in to that child — do something of merit so that this whole escapade was not a waste, and yet... The more he was harrowed by the spectre, the less focused Zugzwang became, until he knew he had to distance himself and be done with it. He did not wish to lose his life in this game, and so he turned his full focus upon Stigmata for a few lunges (or rather, appeared to,) and allowed himself to be spurned and herded away by the wolf's gnashing jaws. 

The beast took on a quickened gait as he tore through the forest's fringe, and away he went — his path a twisting mess through the trees as he fled for safety. All he could hope was that one of those rotten beasts would not survive.

Everything happened in a whirl and, if asked later, Nunataq would not be able to retell the events of the night in detail. In one moment they all were in a full-fledged fight mode, the other - the monster was fleeing and they were left alone to tend for their wounds.

She did not care much for Stigmata, having never truly liked the guy, or felt any affection or loyalty to him, however the girl did approach to see, if Indra was doing alright, because the warm, salty smell of the blood was in the air and she was the source.

And after that - if it was needed - she would help Indra reach the safety of Lost Creek Hollow and then depart for her own quarters. Because, whatever had happened tonight, whatever intentions had drawn Indra out and right in the jaws of the monsters, it had not changed anything between caretaker and her ward. She still did not trust her and tonight had provided another proof, why.

Last one from me. Thank you for joining!

the cat was a whirl of hellish fury, swiping with fierce claws that raked flesh to ruin. she had been flung aside and shouldered by the beast, which reacted with such athletic cunning indra could not keep up.

and then, after a flurry of scything strikes, the beast was gone -- leaving the three of them to inspect their own disasters. indra first made sure nunataq was alright -- the girl had already come to her flank and stared, likely sharing the same disbelief as indra.

every part of her wanted then to rush to stigmata, to nose him and make sure he was not grievously wounded -- but like an animal that had been struck too many times by its master, indra was wary. she lowered her head and while her eyes were rimmed with concern, her posture was tense and distant.

she would not forget he was the reason the two of them were still alive, and still breathing -- but the old wounds were not so quick to heal, and indra happened to be a stubborn old bitch.

"are you alright?" her voice finally punctuated the darkness, and while there was no indifference at all in her words, they were strained with dark emotion.

however mad the cat had been, however sick with bloodthirst, it still proved to be just a feline: cursed to forfeit any task that took even a fraction more than they were willing to give. stigmata panted, watching manically when it had at last fled, and he remained tense even long after he was sure the hellion would not return. the warhoud turned to regard indra uneasily, noticing that she and her charge were injured but not near death's door. the acrid tang of blood permeated the air, and he knew that the two of them must return to lost creek at once.

she asked of his status, which served only as a painful reminder that she shouldn't care for him - and he shouldn't care for her - leaving him in arcane silence for a brief pause. he was hurt, but his wounds were thin; hidden by slick, dark fur, and it would take a little while before he would finally be able to feel the aches of his several cat-scratches past the receding flush of adrenaline. "i am intact," he breathed, glancing over his shoulder.

stigmata looked back to indra, and he felt his steely composure rust slightly at the sight of her. bloodied. wincing. their eyes met, and he saw in her face what he knew must be reflected upon his own: a terrible yearning to comfort the other.

he swallowed, wondering if he should escort her, but then he thought better of it. he decided to keep his distance. "turn for the hollow. i will make sure you are not followed," he told the redleafs, remaining stone on the spot until they had both gone from his sights. he followed, distantly, making sure they were returned safely to their domain before returning silently - achingly - back the way he had come.