Fox's Glade [m] Take these broken wings

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Violence. Death.

Let's get this ball rolling >:3 @Evergreen @Moath @Marruz

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It was the first time she'd left the pack's territory since they'd joined. It had been nice to stay somewhere that was just...safe, for a while. Eventually, however, she needed to stretch her legs, to see the world the way she'd meant to when she first left home. This lead to her venturing out in the early evening, following the path of the sun as it sank beneath the tree line. Eventually, a flash of red caught her eye, and she veered off instead, hunting the unfortunate fox through the underbrush. Mostly, it was an exercise in stealth and tracking; she wasn't hungry. It took all of her concentration not to spook the animal too badly, and she was feeling proud of herself when she came to a stop in the glade.

There was a perfect view of the sun as it made its final descent, and she paused to admire it. She'd have to head home soon, but this had been a good day. It was nice to have somewhere safe that she could call home.

---

 

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

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He wandered away from home. Away from the Family. It was temporary, a fleeting chance to go out and refurbish his fangs with a meal that wasn’t small prey. The Melonii has a taste for wolf on this filled closing afternoon of open opportunity. And he intended to hollow it as much as he could. 

Scents skated over his scarred nares, all dancing in various threads, connected to various balls of energy that he knew he need not chase. They were small, rodent, rascal, things that would take too much energy to pursue, giving him very little reward but a partially sated bloodlust. 

As the sun haunted the horizon, he moved on, a dark mass of torn fur, sluggish reaping muscles, swaying girth, a dark giant who's goal would soon align with success. He felt nothing but growing urge as he swaggered on, leading further into a dappled and darkening slowly of land.

It was then that it hit him, hours after his wander, his lethargic pace halted. A swooning strand tickled his mind, enticed it, and soon pulled. His urges followed, as the thread was not tinged with the scent of Melonii household, but of various others. Past thick orders of other scents, it lie just ahead. Thus he began his hunt anew, locking into the thread with a slightly hastened pace. 

A body began to take shape, standing against the crisp light of the sleepy star, a silhouette to him. A gift, a four limbed and musky thread that led direct to the goal which he was sent to seek, to sedate, to usher into the Void of who he was. 

Wasting no time, the hulking mass of wolf transitioned into a mountain of murder as he near miraculously swapped from lethargic to lethal and lighter than what he should have been. Maws trickled open and furthered their gates as he moved quick to pacify this energy, and soon they near seemed that of the tazmanian wolf’s. The knives raised high, as did he, and plunged for the unseeing woman.

---

 

And in silence, he waited.

---

She had already stayed out later than she'd intended, but Thistle couldn't drag herself away from the view. Evergreen would forgive her for being late; he was understanding like that. She only wanted a few more minutes alone with her thoughts, and then she would go. Unfortunately, that was too much to ask of the universe--and it let her know in a spectacularly terrifying fashion.

Thistle barely heard the wolf before he was on her. She would never be certain what alerted her; a whisper of wind hitting fur, the subtle crunch of grass beneath large paws as weight shifted. Whatever it was, Thistle's ears twitched and she turned just in time to see her attacker's teeth closing in. A lifetime of wrestling a brother twice her size had her instinctively trying to dart between his forelegs to get behind him, even as she yelped. It was the only direction she could see that gave her even a slim chance; darting back or to the side would keep her in his sights, and he was much closer to her brother's size than her own--in a fair fight, she was screwed.

---

 

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

---

It had been too long. 
That was the only excuse capable of saving him from wracking a mindless mind, a skittering mentality of mauling, of murder, of massacre, as to why this hadn't ended her. He had her,-
then she was gone.

Wind rushed between timber trunk-like limbs, a slight tickle against his gut before his mind had concluded her vanishing. She was agile, full of life, and that only made Moath want her even more. Much like a rabbid shark to twitching agony, his hulking form swam a wide arc as he took those empty jaws and sought purchase against anything that arc could end on, and drag it closer with slavering jaws. 
The Void hungered, and he would not let himself return home empty. 

With anything that he might have snatched and dragged forth, he threw himself up on brutishly layered hinds, and brought a full 165lbs of titanic muscle crashing back down to smash whatever lay below him. The ribbons of thread he sought, the twinkling ambers of vivacious spark he wanted to hush...it would soon be. It would be quiet, and he would be well, again. 
Until the next urge came, again.

---

 

And in silence, he waited.

---

Swift steps, and sure ones--a lesson she'd learned young as she hunted. Hesitation meant the meal would be lost; hesitation meant death. Thistle had always thought her uncle Kaisyn had meant death by starvation, and it was a lesson she hardly ever thought about because of it. It popped into her head as she slipped beneath the larger wolf, distracting her as she was trying to decide which way to run. Back to Easthollow, surely, and--oh, this is what Uncle meant.

She hesitated, and the monster behind her did not miss his next lunge. Her yelp was high-pitched enough to match the scream of a fox as teeth sank into her scruff, deep enough to draw blood. She thrashed even as she was dragged backward, kicking out and snapping ineffectively. Her heart hammered in her chest, a steady tattoo of no, please as the larger wolf threw his weight down on her. A breathless whine as she was smashed into the ground, feeling a distinct creak in her ribs from the force of it. She tried to bite back, but she knew she was trapped; she couldn't move him by herself.

She wanted to snarl at him to get off her; she wanted to beg for freedom; she wanted to flee. But most of all, she wanted--Evergreen!

---

 

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

---

His hold caused a screech, almost like a dog whistle that tried to bleed his ears. Grip re-adjusted as heavy forelimbs held her down. Behemoth jaws that had ended so many before her jabbed for her face, his desire to hush her squeals and screams overpowering his current urge to murder. The vice bear trapped her fragile features, raking rancid daggers over snout, ripping and pulling flesh here and there, having his morbid way with his dismay he unleashed on the weakening soul beneath him. Lips were snatched from her, blood and gore flailing as she tried her most hardest to free herself from the mammoth-weight man...her terror only intensified with her agony as those fearful eyes were too snatched from a twisting and flailing skull. 

Thistle now exhausted herself, her fighting to free herself coming to a close as she remained panting and bleeding out. She had fought valiantly, but there was no honor here. Moath did not recognize honor, nor pride, horror, nor injustice. He knew only death, and so he would embrace her into his Void. 
Lowering his own bloodstained jowls on the nape of the barely breathing woman, the jaws tightened against a particular set of vertebrae, and squeezed. Harder and harder his bite force increased, and with a torrential  jerk of a steelboned set of shoulders, he felt a break, and a snap. It was muffled, meat covering the pops like someone had tried to shush them- 

But Moath knew what he had done. 

The thread of the wilted woman had snapped... 
and floated away in the bloody breeze.

---

 

And in silence, he waited.

---

TT__TT

It was unlike Thistle to be late. Worry etched in his eyebrows, the protective brother could only pace back and forth upon the Easthollow border. Soon, concern won him over, and Evergreen strayed from the pack in search of his beloved sister. He knew she would be angered if he treated her like a child, but something told him this wasn't just a moment of tardiness. Anxiety curled in his gut, mixing with a strange sense of dread. He forced himself to remain at a steady trot, telling his mind and heart that all was well... until he heard the blood curdling scream of his name.

His pace picked up without question, charging towards the echoing shout of Thistle's voice. Heart hammered in his chest, throbbing in his ears and adrenaline raced in his veins. Had Evergreen been thinking clearer, perhaps he would have called for backup, but he wasn't. The bearish wolf just knew his sister was in danger and he was determined to get there—

Thistle?! His voice thundered, a shudder coursing up his spine as all he heard in response was a gut wrenching snap. Out of breath, the brother finally spotted the hulking figure standing above a blooded roan pelt. Thistle! His heart shattered all at once, but Evergreen refused to believe the body lifeless. The massive wolf charged forward, attempting to slam the entirety of his weight into the murderer's right side—just beyond the elbow area. His jaws snapped to reach any bit of flesh he could.

'Get the fuck away from my sister.'

---

 

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

---

He was so satisfied in that moment, he was unaware of the murder being spotted. He wasn’t  alarmed in the slightest. But all at once, his world spun, and he went from staring absently down at the cooling body to being whirled in a tycoon of motion. Blank obsidian tinted amethysts looked over the face of the giant who had managed to roll him over. He was a woody brown, eye color far from that of his protected Family. This wolf was not of the Melonii...
He would too be welcomed into the Void within.

The gigantuan inbred rose to his fours, matching this troubling meal weight by weight, height by height, power by power. The only difference? 
One was ruled by pithy emotions, restrained by seemingly undying fury, scorn, hurt, disbelief. 
The other was boundless, incapable of being touched by such chains. A horror in all flicks of both show and reality alike. 
Relentless once goal oriented...
and near impossible to stop.

Evergreen  had his chance-
and now as Moath locked his gaze upon the ruddy brown face, direct in stare, there that chance had perished.

A breeze was all that ruffled the empty patch upon the back of his neck, made bloody and bare by Evergreen’s immediate aggression.
Then the obsession began, the Void moving his regular shuffle forwards, bloody maw parted and dribbling the blood of the meal’s relative between them. 
Here he too, would lie.

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And in silence, he waited.

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