Blackfoot Forest sick cycle carousel

Zombie scowled as she stalked through the thick trees of the wailing forest, her green eyes electric in the moonlight. It was the same every time she allowed her heart to open and to trust, every time she allowed herself the belief that she could heal and become whole. She was the walking dead—a ghost, forgotten and abandoned, always abandoned by the living. She had thought that Jinx would be different than the others, for the female had spoken passionately of blood bonds and loyalty. But Zombie had not seen hide or tail of their leader since.

A fox darted out in front of her, and the skeletal wolf bared her teeth in a snarl. Hunger clawed at her belly—a feeling she was used to, that comforted her in its familiarity. Inexplicably, this time Zombie chose to fight it rather than give in. If there were no herds, no pack to bring down prey, she would find her own. She turned sharply, instinct taking over and triumphing over her lack of experience, and the thin female followed the fox.

Pied decided that she couldn't bear the ambiguity anymore. When morning came, she would howl in the hopes of rallying what was left of Bon Dye. Depending on who responded—if anyone showed up at all—she would figure out where to go from there. She simply couldn't stand being in limbo like this. Her life was literally in the balance. Her grandmother, March Owl, would've said it was time to shit or get off the pot.

Thinking of her grandmother brought a smirk to Pied's face, though it faded quickly as she stalked the nighttime forest. Too hungry to sleep, she hoped to scavenge food of some sort, even if it meant feeding on rats if it came down to it. She had feasted upon insects the other day; she wasn't above anything at this point. Her stomach pinched and she grimaced slightly in preparation for the savage growling which commenced.

Suddenly, she heard something scurrying toward her through the underbrush. Pied halted, her ears pricking and nose tipping into the chilly air. She quickly realized that it was one of the forest's resident foxes trotting along. She wondered at its boldness, as it seemed to be making no effort to disguise its footfalls on the crunching leaves. It thinks the wolves are gone, Pied realized with a sinking feeling.

Brushing this sentiment aside, she pivoted and prepared to dash after the fox once it came near enough to give chase. Of course, she didn't realize that there was competition skulking hot on the fox's heels, much more silent, predatory and deadly than the mischievous red creature itself...

Being rather inexperienced when it came to hunting, and being so focused on her pursuit of the fox... around that tree trunk, then another, then under the snapped weight of another and around one more... Zombie wasn't paying attention enough to notice the signs that would alert her to another wolf's presence. All there was in the world was herself and the fox, predator and prey—and, of course, the great hunger that drove them all.

She was filled with rage. Once, not so long ago, she had lain down in the wide meadow just outside this forest and waited for death. It would be a relief from the hunger she had felt all her life. In death, she would abandon the world—it would no longer abandon her. Somehow, all of that was changed by the female called Jinx. The young wolf that had bid her to fight, not die. The young wolf that had demanded a blood oath in return for unwavering loyalty and protection.

And Jinx had gone.

The fox darted around another tree trunk, and Zombie snarled in rage at that and at the thought of the leader that had abandoned them. She flew around the tree's base in pursuit, only to find herself seconds away from crashing into someone.

With every delicate footfall, Pied found herself hunkering lower and lower, her pale belly now scraping the cold forest floor as she prepared to pounce. When, at last, she felt the fox must be within striking range—though she didn't yet see it—she sprang from her crouch. Yet instead of tackling a small red fox, she found her paws clouting at the head and neck of an unfamiliar wolf and, alarmed, Pied immediately dropped back.

Nonplussed, she blinked rapidly for a few beats before a loud, "Sorry!" hissed between her teeth. "I thought you were a fox—" she tried to explain even as a small red vixen darted past, flailing away into the dark woodland and leaving the two surprised wolves blinking after it.

Pied turned toward the stranger and swallowed thickly, the loss of the would-be meal hitting her hard and leaving her more than a little crestfallen. "I really am sorry. It looks like we were after the same prey." One corner of her mouth fell, leaving a lopsided frown on her slender white muzzle. "I'm Pied, by the way," she introduced, her voice a little strained and hollow.

As Zombie completed the turn around the tree branch, she was met immediately by an attack. Her jaws opened, teeth ready to come down hard on the limbs that were coming down on her head and neck—until she realized that they were far too high-reaching to be the fox she had been pursuing. In the same instant that her attacker backed away, so did Zombie—but her ears remained flat in aggression, and her lips remained bared to expose slavering teeth. If she had inadvertently made contact before pulling away, Zombie would not apologize; for all she knew, the other was regrouping to attack again.

The fox she had been after darted between the pair, their confusion as all the opportunity the vixen had needed to escape. At this, Zombie growled in frustration, but she did not give chase—it was too late, and she intended to find out who had kept her from her much-needed dinner.

Whoever it was, they seemed guilty enough in their posture and expression. Zombie found herself at a loss for words, but managed—with an annoyed snort—"Not forgiven." Times were quickly becoming desperate, and foxes weren't exactly unintelligent. They weren't usually prey, and they would now know that the wolves they shared the forest with were hungry enough to go against the unspoken truce between the two species. Zombie doubted the foxes would inhabit this place much longer. As if to punctuate the situation, the yearling's stomach rumbled loudly.

"I'm Zombie," she returned with a heavy, defeated sigh.

The other she-wolf made it clear that Pied wasn't forgiven for bungling both of their hunts. Her angry words and annoyed snort made the piebald yearling feel rather awkward. Unsure of what to do or say in response, Pied began to backpedal to give the other wolf her space. "Well, I'll get out of your way," she said lowly.

Yet a sighed introduction gave her some pause. She turned to look at Zombie, who looked as well as sounded defeated. Pied understood and, although the stranger's agitation made her feel out of sorts, she didn't exactly blame her. These were trying, desperate times.

After a moment of deliberation, Pied swung back around to face her new acquaintance and asked, "What can I do to make it up to you, Zombie?"

Zombie inspected the white female with a dark scowl, though it was more her natural expression than anything directed at the stranger in particular. Whoever it was—for she hadn't introduced herself in turn—seemed intent on finding a way to make up for the lost meal. Zombie only stared blankly, unsure of how to answer—except that she suddenly realized that the stranger was white, like the leader and inner circle that had abandoned them to their fates.

"Are—" she paused abruptly, unsure of how to proceed delicately. "Are you a shaman? Like, can you summon and talk to spirits and stuff?" Truthfully, Zombie wasn't sure if she believed in all that voodoo... but it inexplicably fascinated her. It seemed so unnatural, but at the same time the yearling had spent nearly her entire life dancing with death. Having some type of intimate control over it seemed appealing.

Pssst, Pied mentioned her name in my second post. :)

The query took Pied by surprise, as it seemed not only like a non sequitur but also uncomfortably intuitive. She blinked, wondering what on earth to say in response. She shook her head lightly, deciding to answer the parts of the question she could honestly and skirt around the rest.

"No, I'm not a shaman, nor can I summon spirits," she answered almost apologetically. "Why do you ask?" she then wondered, head tilting to demonstrate her genuine curiosity.

derp! @__<;

Her body slumped slightly in disappointment, moody eyes watching the other. Pied was proving to be quite uninteresting, and maybe even borderline useless (at least to Zombie's selfish wants). Zombie didn't pick up on the fact that the white female hadn't said she couldn't talk to spirits, taking the answer to mean she had nothing to do with the supernatural whatsoever. It seemed that the essence of Bon Dye was truly dead and gone, that the eerie practices of the wolves within had left with Jinx and her inner circle. And yet Zombie remained, still honoring the blood oath she believed tied her with this forest and any that might still be living beneath the trees.

"Oh," she finally said. "You look like the others, so I just thought..." Zombie trailed off and shrugged. "What're we going to do if Jinx is really gone?"

Zombie didn't hide the disappointment that Pied's response engendered and, once again, it left the piebald wolf feeling rather discomfited. She still wanted to make up for her blunder, yet she also wanted to get out of Zombie's space. Pied didn't enjoy feeling like her mere presence was agitating her comrade.

Pied didn't really understand the remark about her appearance, so she said nothing. When Zombie mentioned Jinx, though, her eyes sharpened. She pursed her lips and replied softly but firmly, "We'll rally together and figure something out." She sounded more confident than she really felt. Even as she spoke, her innards twisted with anxiety, which only deepened when she looked at Zombie.

"Look, I'm going to get out of your way. I promise that we'll do something about it if Jinx is gone. I plan to call the others soon, most likely in the morning. And I'll make it up to you sometime," she said again, gesturing in the direction the fox had gone. "Sorry, Zombie," were her words of parting before she faced forward and trotted off into the deep, dark forest.

Pied had merely caught Zombie in a dark mood, made darker by the loss of lunch. Not that Zombie's mood was ever quite stable, but she was capable mustering a modicum of pleasantness most of the time. She frowned slightly as Pied made her hasty exit, ears going back in—you guessed it—more annoyance. It wasn't a grudge that was likely to last long; they were all in a state of uncomfortable and anxiety with the vacuum left by their leader's disappearance. With things so uncertain, they were all bound to be on edge and perhaps a little less patient with one another than they might have been with stable leadership and stable nutrition.

More upset by the sudden loss of companionship (even if they weren't particularly friendly) and the abrupt plummet back into loneliness than anything else, Zombie growled at the white female's disappearing form in discomfort. After a moment, the thin yearling released a heavy sigh and loped off in the opposing direction.