Blacktail Deer Plateau You can't stomach that stuff, that's not in you

@Rosencrantz maybe?

Even with Erzulie offering the lion's share of any food found to her children, Nieve was feeling the cruel effects of the famine. Her belly tucked sharply up from her ribs, which were just beginning to show through her coat. Her fur lacked its customary lustre, appearing more straw than shimmering gold. Her face was morphing from chubby-cheeked cherub to lean, drawn wolf.

She was hungry, and that's what drove her into the trees to look for prey. Every scent trail she found was stale, but she followed them dutifully anyway, sniffing the leaves and roots and shoving her nose into the leaf litter in search of anything fresh. She did this for several hours, stomach rumbling, refusing to become frustrated by telling herself the next one would be the one. Just one more trail. The next will bear fruit.

But the next only led her to the plateau's edge, where she stopped and sat, disappointed, to look across the empty world below.

The famine was taking its toll on everyone, and that included the behemoth Rosencrantz. He did all he could to stay away from food that he did not hunt himself. The normally thick burly man was beginning to wane. Thankfully the fat storage he had was keeping him just plump enough for now, but for how much longer until he became nothing other than a skeletal ghost of his former self?  

Wandering the plateau he came across the mother who was looking out into the distance with a defeated look. The watched for a moment, ears flickering as the gears within churned with what he should do. If he should approach and familiarize himself with at least one member. Would she appreciate the attempt at trying to comfort her?

With a soft sigh, he began to walk closer, clearing his throat in order to announce his presence before seating himself to watch the same scenery as she. It'll pass. He said. It was the only thing he could think of saying that could remotely be a possible way to cheer anyone up. That's what people liked, right? Some hope?

Any negative feeling that Nieve felt was typically shortlived. She wasn't one to wallow helplessly in sadness or feel dejected about failures for long. She was a go getter, an optimist, and responsible. Still, sometimes melancholy would find her in the brief in betweens, and being hungry and unable to predict what was going to happen to them made her emotions especially unsteady.

Rosencrantz found her at the wrong time, but there was nothing Nieve could do about that. She arranged her face into a smile that she didn't quite feel at the moment, but even if it seemed flimsy now, she would bounce back soon enough. I believe that, too. It's hard not knowing when, and feeling so helpless with waiting. She turned her head then to behold her company and gasped audibly at the sight of Rosencrantz's ruined face.

I'm sorry, she automatically said, feeling ashamed for her outburst. Rosalyn's features were equally scarred and messed up, by other means; she didn't know why this man's burned face affected her the way it did. Maybe because he was a stranger to her, and she was shy to begin with? Who knows. What ... happened to you?

Way to go, idiot, that's an appropriate question.

At least she welcomed his presence, there were no ill words directed to him for attempting to calm her nerves. To try and chase away the negative thoughts with a moment of positive thinking - even if such a thing would never fix their problem. No, they had to be strong and wait out the famine. That or take everyone and move away from Teekon Wilds and go where the prey would be found. But the quakes couldn't last forever... could they? In time the prey would return, the ground would flourish yet again. Patience. Is all he said in return. A soft word with no sarcastic undertones.

Her gasp drew his eye, a brow curving toward the dirt as a vague frown traced his lips. He had tried to forget the injury, but with recent events, he began to wonder. Did he become some kind of hideous monster after the incident? First Rhaella picks a different male as a lover, one without a deformity, then the prying eyes of everyone around, the pup Reyes (though being a pup his words stung less, being the brat he was) and now this, making babes gasp in horror. Someday he would grow numb to such a treatment, but for now, with the wound still under a year old, he was still growing into it.

A fire. He was beautiful once, a man with a face carved by the angels themselves. Strong and charming, but it seemed that the fates had something else in mind. Three years of his life as nothing less than beautiful - and now he was causing horrified gasps and turned away.

Patience, he said. Nieve managed a small smile in response, but had nothing to say about it. The wolf's way was to follow where the prey went, but Rusalka had never been made up of typical wolves who went where resources were abundant. They squatted in a small cove and eked a living from the sea—a hard living, admittedly, but one that would always provide if one worked at it enough.

They could get through this, too. They were resourceful wolves, the Rusalkans.

I'm sorry, Nieve said softly, looking away from Rosencrantz's burned visage almost a little self-consciously. It was difficult not to stare at the puckered, melted flesh that had once been whole, but Nieve knew it to be unkind to stare. She tried to look at any other part of his face instead, and settled on the black of his nose. That must've been very painful. Was it your home that caught on fire? That, she thought, might almost be worse than being burned yourself. She had no experience with fire, but the word itself evoked fear.

You wanted a hunting thread right?? I am trying to find a way to get this boy to offer a hunting lesson xD I haven't forgotten!! Just waiting for the right moment...

A fish out of water. That's how he felt right now in this interaction. The young lady wasn't unpleasant, though the conversation had brought up memories he had longed to forget long ago. She apologized - something that felt foreign. Especially after his interaction with Rhaella months ago, to feel like a monster when he was the one who was left out in the cold. Never an utterance of apology onto her lips and yet this young babe was quick to do so at such a young age. 

Perhaps that it drew the inkling of a smile onto his lips. 

As if a veil had been lifted and he was more man than a monster. That his emotions and feelings mattered too, even just for a moment, even if it was just the smallest of slivers, it mattered enough. No. He turned toward the young one, this time hiding nothing. He allowed himself to be observed, to let that marred face be a spectacle as he wondered how to answer her questions... 

I left home long ago. His voice was soft despite the deepness in his tone. 

You tell me. Observe the wound - tell me what you see. Describe what it could have been like and I will go from there. She was not rude, curious, young, and perhaps disturbed by a new type of body horror - and so, perhaps he could do something different for once. Teach.

I'm cool with whatever direction it goes in! Not one to force threads one way or another, but if I see a way to turn it that way I'll try to do so.

She was relieved to hear this home hadn't been burned in the fire that caused his wound. She couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose Ankyra Sound in such a fashion. They had, in a way, but somehow the damage caused by the sea felt less permanent than that caused by fire. Perhaps that was only because of Nieve's affinity for the ocean. She could not believe it would cause lasting harm to the wolves who called it home.

When she was invited to study Rosencrantz's wound, Nieve leaned forward ever so slightly to do so, and found she didn't want to look at it. The flesh was puckered in places and silky smooth in others, as though the very constitution of his flesh had been altered by the fire. Like melted wax, she might say, if she knew what such a thing was. Describe what it could have been like, said Rosencrantz, and Nieve shook her head slowly.

I can't begin to imagine what it was like, she answered. She had little to compare it to. No doubt it was the worst pain imaginable, having your fur singed off and your skin turned to something like liquid. It must have felt ... like nothing else in the world could be so bad as that, she guessed, cringing a little at how poorly put that was.

She had the befuddling thought that prey must feel the same way when wolves began to feast on them while they still breathed ... and then she put that from her mind as quickly as possible.

Though he knew that they moved, Rosencrantz lacked the details on what his fellow Rusalkans were going through. Not to the fault of anyone other than himself. He didn't go around sticking his nose in their history, asking about them, no. He took his position and gave himself something to do, and that was it. Their hardships would slowly be revealed in time as they wished to speak, but he would not pry. He was a soldier, a guard, the watchdog at the border - he was not a friend, lover or brother to anyone here.

She started her contemplation on the wound, studying it, try as she did to imagine the pain, he knew there was no way she could have described it. Even he would have a hard time to do so, and he was the one who lived through it. It was beyond words. There was no way someone so young could even grasp the smallest concept of such pain. 

The silence grew for a moment after she spoke, his eye falling to the floor as he contemplated on how to explain the event. Remembering the moment. First you must understand fear. Fire is unlike any monster you could face, it is fierce, unforgiving, both living and dead. It hunts in a crawl, with a roar unlike any other, and grows with destruction. I have never felt more childlike in all my years. Utterly alone, and hunted by something I could not fight.

He had never shared his experience before, but perhaps.. this young one could learn and avoid such a fate herself should she find herself so unlucky. The pain was intense when embers latched to my face, I could only ever compare the pain like being stung by bees, over and over until the venom makes it numb. Unlike bees, fire is a curse that will follow you after, always reminding you of that day. There are no heroes in a blaze, only cowards and fools.

Almost all of what Rosencrantz had to say was beyond Nieve's comprehension. It wasn't that she was too stupid to grasp the concepts, but it was difficult to even visualize fire, let alone understand the fear that came with it. She envisioned some kind of slinking lizard with bright and furious skin, indomitable and unstoppable, pressing on and on whilst being immune to any fang that tried to strike it, with breath as sharp as wasp stingers.

She shuddered and hoped she would never in her lifetime have to face such a beast.

I'm sorry that happened to you, she said, for there seemed to be nothing else she could say. She was sorry, too, for asking about it in the first place. It must be terrible to relive it, even just in the retelling. Eager to change the subject, she asked, what made you come to Rusalka?