Big Salmon Lake Shinkō

A chilly breeze brushed against the sharp hairs along the white wolf’s hackles.

Shiranui turned back his gaze in search for @Bartholomew. The preacher had done well enough to keep up with the pace, stopping to wander in odd areas. The white wolf had followed and listened. He had shared his physical strength with the dog, aiding where it was needed.

Once he had found his paws had carried him to another lake, Shiranui paused upon its edge and listened to the lapping of the water. The white wolf bent his head to drink. When he lifted his snout upward, water dribbled from his chin. He was hungry, and he would have wagered that the dog was hungry, too. Perhaps it would do well to hunt.

he was never far, even if he drifted to and fro, such was the life of the missionary.

the barbarian served him well. they devoured the land under paws and discovered new places. he favored the lake they had come upon over the woods they had been in.

another blessed day, he offered in a low hum of greeting. stretched his lithe figure.

i do believe food and shelter are in order soon. it was not a command, but an observation, unaware that one of those things lingered in his tooth's mind too.

Another blessed day, the dog said. Shiranui turned his gaze toward the figure of the man, eyeing his shape and his form. He wondered how the preacher listened so with such floppy ears. They shaped his face well, offering him a handsomeness that was foreign to the wild hunter.

Shiranui waved his tail gently in response to the man’s words. Hunger was universal. They would share the burden of their stomach pangs. The white wolf could hunt for two.

Ruby eyes scanned the distant fields. The wolf knew that he could fish in the waters, but it would take a good deal of time to catch what they needed to ease the hunger. Shiranui sniffed at the light wind, hungrily drinking in the aromas it carried. On that breeze, he could smell otter. Blessed, indeed.

Shiranui nudged the dog with his snout and began to trot around the edge of the lake. He hunted for signs of the otters, hoping they were near.

sorry if this is wonky, i’m mobile bound at work!

his tooth didn’t not speak still, but that was okay. all good supporters remained seen, not heard.

and although he might have seemed like a creature who lived in homes, he was blind to the way of the wild. only that he opted to partake in the more civilized parts of it. even as they moved as one towards the smell of something aquatic, he would not be the one to make any killing blows.

no, such dirty work was not for his hands.

he would, however, be happy to herd them with a chase into the teeth of the true hunter. only waited for a cue to do so.

the only time he would wait for a sign from somebody on this earth.

Oh! No that’s perfectly fine. Your posts have been lovely. ^^ I’m only grateful to be able to write with you.

The dog did not speak again but moved to step alongside the white hunter. Shiranui was focused on the task of catching their food. He was rallied by the presence of another figure beside him. It had been many months since he had last held company. While the dog spoke of strange things, the white wolf did not find him to be bothersome, in any way.

The scent of otter grew stronger, pulling Shiranui along its trail. He could make out three distinct fragrances, all of them belonging to the water-loving creatures. The pale figure could only hope that they would not stumble upon young ones. They did little to fill a hungry stomach.

Ahead, a splash upon the lakeside drew the wolf’s gaze. Shiranui stiffened and latched his eyes on the brown shapes that danced along the shore. The otters appeared to be collecting rocks in their dark hands.

<3

he was not very good at this.

for a man who spent all of his time finely crafting his words, he could hardly spare patience when hunger drew sharp in his belly. they could move quick, they could end this and save everybody the pain of the gore of hunting.

but he trusted his strong arm’s ways in the hunt. trusted the way the man slunk and stalked.

i can…usher? he offered in hushed tones for his strong arm’s ears. herd them into you so you can…handle them. disgusted by the mental imagery but it hardly mattered.

admittedly, bartholomew remained uncertain just how much of his words the pale man understood, but so far they hadn’t ran into any miscommunication.

The preacher offered to usher them toward the mouth of the hunter. Shiranui approved, nudging sharply beneath the man’s chin in affirmation. It would be their best chance to keep the otters from scurrying into the lake. If they found water, catching them would be a lost cause. The white wolf did not want to squander the chance they had been given.

Slinking into a hunter’s crouch, Shiranui circled wide, creating space between him and Bartholomew. The religious man might not have looked like a hunter, but the white wolf had heard him bark and make noise. If he frightened the otter family, Shiranui was certain he could close his teeth around one or two of them.

When he had found his place to wait, the white wolf fixed his gaze on the religious dog and gave a small nod of his snout.

it was his turn now.

reminded himself this was how it was. the cycle of life deemed by Him. the otters would serve a purpose, to fuel the missionary and the hunter.

so he sighed softly, prepared himself while his muscle found a place to lie in wait.

then it was his vital turn in this. it would freeze him, of course, but he sought to launch himself along the shoreline. herd them away from the waters with clicking teeth, not able to touch them.

that would be his strong arm’s job.

The white hunter watched carefully.

While the preacher was not as adept with his paws, there was a confidence in his movements that afforded him some forgiveness. Shiranui believed that if Bartholomew had been taught, he would have been a fine enough hunter. Without a pack, there would never be a need to hunt large prey or scout in search of herds.

As the preacher chased the otters, clicking his teeth threateningly close to their wet frames, Shiranui positioned himself to intercept. Good fortunes smiled on them. The otters raced toward the white wolf. The looming figure lunged and snapped his teeth around the throat of the largest, shaking until it ceased movement. He dropped it at his paws and chased for the next.

Bartholomew had done well to assist. Shiranui was pleased.

as much as he told himself he despised it, there was some brief morbid curiosity as he watched the pious hunter make quick work of the otter.

then reminded himself that there was no such pleasure in such a thing. not for him, at least.

although he did have a ritual he needed to follow.

to pray over the meal.

was now the time to do it? or should he wait until the hunter ceased?

he had not been one to bend his ways to others from the time he had become a man. so he left the hunter to, expectedly, hunt. he would be quick to the otter that had been downed.

head tilted down to feel along it’s neck. no pulse. gone from this life, into a next, if otters so believed in Him.

blessed are we, to have been provided for and to find our hunger soothed in these trying times. he mumbled softly. eyes closed and head tilted back.

he cared little what the hunter might think, he had decided to tag along with the preacher.

The hunter’s chase did not last long. His long legs carried him across the ground in pursuit of the fleeing otters. Two of them still raced for the water, noticing that the dog did not follow them. Shiranui loomed from behind them until he had eliminated the space between them. All it took was another snap of his teeth around the second otter’s skull, the clean sound of the animal’s head being crunched in his mouth.

When Shiranui returned to Bartholomew, he watched the dog with a curious stare. The man was speaking over the prey. The white wolf wondered why. He placed his otter at his feet and then stepped toward the one he had caught for the dog. Shiranui nudged it toward him. He moved and tore at the flesh of his prize, showing the man how to eat.

I am just leaving work and trotting home and then I should be back on and available to keep writing with you. ^w^

no rush! i’m still at work another 2 hours myself :)

the wild man returned with another between his jaws.

then encouraged him, bartholomew imagined, to eat before prayer. he could not fault the man. he seemed to know so little compared to himself. there should be no shame in that.

so he would explain his actions.

not yet, soft spoke as he let hawkish eyes settle upon ruby ones. i pray over our meals. it is another blessing and one we should not take lightly. He blessed you with strength to hunt and He blessed us with the otters. it is only appropriate that i thank Him for such.

he explained thoughtfully and carefully.

The man spoke of his prayers and the reason for them. He believed that the strength Shiranui had shown was a gift from his God. The white wolf did not agree with such matters. He had not been born into his strength. He had traveled many winding paths, had sculpted his strength from the mold he had been given. Perhaps the God had granted him a body, yes, but it had not been God who had formed it to be what it was.

Nevertheless, Shiranui did not wish to cause distrust in his traveling companion. He frowned thoughtfully. The sway of his tail slowed to a stop. The red of his eyes drifted to the otters that he had caught, wondering what prayer would do for them after they were dead.

A small whine was issued.

Shiranui reclined to sit, waiting for the man to mutter his words so that they could eat.

obedient was the hunter.

it was all bartholomew could ask for.

thank You for this blessing, My Lord. we are grateful for the meal You have bestowed upon us. may it fuel us in the coming days. may You provide strength in us always.

his voice was a soft lull despite the quickness of it. he was vastly experienced in these things.

amen, he offered with a genuinely kind look upon the hunter. he did not expect the man to say the word too, but he hoped he would feel the blessing’s of Him all the same.

now, they could feast, and he would gesture to such.

Thanks was offered for the food. The dog went on to ask his God to give them strength in their days to come. The way he spoke was reverent, swift. It was something that seemed as though it had been practiced over many things, countless times. Shiranui only watched and listened.

When the final word had been spoken, the white wolf yawned softly. He had grown tired in their travels, tired from the hunt. The hunter scanned the distant terrain, wondering where the preacher wished to go. Shiranui could not imagine there were many things that would compel a man of faith to enter the wild. He did not anticipate that Bartholomew would share that with him.

When it seemed they could finally eat, life sprung back into the white wolf’s figure. He started, rising to stand on all four legs. The waving of his tail resumed. The scent of blood drew his tongue across his muzzle hungrily. Shiranui looked to the dog, hoping they could finally eat.

truthfully, the act of eating was hardly different from the act of murder.

regardless he found comfort in the former. to eat was to fuel one’s self, fuel him so he might further spread the word. a necessary thing.

he would dip his head once more to begin. started at the otter’s stomach and let instinct lead him from there. only to find himself no better than a savage as he ravaged the creature for its meat. more starved than he had realized.

whenever their gluttonous moment had slowed, he would find himself sprawled on the ground. posed like a lounging king. the confident comfort oozed off of him, much like the otter blood that stained his wispy furs.

a thought, the hunter did not speak, but they seemed to communicate plans well enough —

do you crave a permanent home?

a simple yes or no would do well.

Enough had been said.

The two ate. Shiranui devoured the meat on the otter’s body until his belly felt it might bulge from the weight of it. He had cleaned the animal well, cracking several bones in search of marrow. The sharp pieces of it scored at his gums and his tongue, but the flavor within them was too good to pass up.

When the wolf was content, he made a seat beside the dog. The preacher asked him if he sought a home.

Shiranui regarded the man with a careful stare. He knew that he could say yes or no - that the religious speaker would understand. The white wolf was not certain, though. He had never sought the premise of a home for himself. The idea of a pack still called to his instincts.

The white hunter did not answer, but his tail beat against the ground two times. There was a possibility that he could. Would Bartholomew understand this?

uncertainty was what bartholomew took it for.

he supposed it was a rather large question, wasn't it? yet he was not blind to instinct either. of course he wished to spread the good word, but it would also be beneficial to have a commune eventually.

you are a valuable man, hunter. he hummed in sleepy tones with his full belly. it did not skip his mind that he called his tooth a man now.

if a place was made, you would hold a high standing. it is not a promise or an attempt to sway the man. it was spoken merely as a fact.

a strong, young man. any place would have use for him. he would find a wife without struggles.

bartholomew held these as truths.

The man did not press him further but went on to praise.

Shiranui’s ears drew to a perk. The white wolf regarded him carefully. He wondered if the dog had plans to create his own group, his own pack of God-loving beasts. He wondered what kind of place there would be in such a grouping for a wolf of his kind. One ear swiveled atop his head.

When Shiranui looked to the preacher, he tilted his head questioningly.

Would the worshiping man seek a permanent residence?

Furthermore, Shiranui wondered what wolves would listen to his words of God and seek to follow him. It was a curious thing.

his yellow gaze roamed the hunter.

appraised with approval! large and athletic. a hunter, a roamer. perhaps it would be kindness and shelter that bent the man to the light. regardless bartholomew saw him as something...almost akin to an equal in these moments with just the two of them.

you are a provider. you are well and healthy, young still with years to come. you are handsome, women will wish to...wed you.

all of these, once more, spoken as truths. although each word was spoken with crafted care.

you could very easily stake a claim, hunter. little would disagree with this assessment.

Shiranui could not help that his gaze shifted away from the preacher when he said the word handsome. The white wolf was surprised at his forwardness. He could not allow himself to hold the man’s eye. The hunter did not understand, not fully. He believed it was kind to be praised in such a way. Something in him warmed to the dog.

When the man said that he could stake a claim, that no one would contest his right to such a thing, the white wolf blinked at him and then nodded once. It was only a thought, nothing that had grounding. Shiranui had never considered such a thing. He wondered still if the worshiping man would find others to follow his word.

he could only assume he had struck a cord with the man he called his strong arm. this warmed him, of course. even if his reasoning for ever saying such things may have been with his own interests in mind.

we will need to decide where to go from here.

the lake was desirable, but it seemed to lack as well. no cover or shade when the sunny months would eventually return. He did not shield them in dark winter forever.

perhaps north or west?

truthfully, he was in no rush to make plans. he was content to give his sermons behind the hunter's tracks, whichever way they went.

The man spoke of their next move, placing the choice in the hunter’s lap. Shiranui looked to him for a moment before turning his gaze toward the directions that had been suggested. To the west there was a stretching mountain range. To the north there appeared mountains in the distance, woodland in between. The white wolf believed it would be more favorable to travel north.

It would do them well to journey a while longer before settling down to rest.

Shiranui shook himself, looking to the preacher with a small nod. If they could make it to the woodland, he believed they would have adequate coverage. He could hunt in the glen in the morning. The white wolf was certain there would be rabbits upon the snow.

closing this up if you're good with that! :D

north it would be.

bartholomew imagined what blessings might be upon them up there. the land almost looked all the same here with distance. regardless this would be good. perhaps more heathens lived in this stretch of land. those who would listen to his word.

maybe he might show the light to some of those heathens.

all of these thoughts that he kept to himself as he finally rose. a bit sluggish, but keen to follow after the hunter all the same.