Sheepeater Cliff i wish that i could be like the cool kids

After her confrontation with Peregrine, the black-and-white yearling had left the caldera. It wasn't meant to be permanent, and only a few days had passed— her presence likely not even missed— but the adventure had taken longer than she had anticipated when she set out. The bodies of rabbits and other small creatures had been left in her wake, but she hadn't bothered to bring any of them back to the caldera; she ate some, as required, but mostly they were left to bleed out into the cold winter soil. None of them seemed good enough, big enough— a single rabbit wouldn't be her redemption.

At one point, she had tracked a moose, but she never quite found the confidence to attack it all on her own. It would be idiotic to think she could take it down, anyway— that's what packs were meant for, not that she really had the support of one, not truly. Eventually, her failed attempts to kill anything worthy enough led her to the edge of the mountains, north of the Sunspire. For once, her thoughts didn't linger on Summer, despite her nearness to his home— her mind was solely on proving to Peregrine that he was a gigantic dick and should be ashamed of it. Her mind was on glory.

The bleating of mountain goats called her attention, and she looked up the sheer wall of walk, only to be perplexed by the prey that seemed to hover there. If she could bring Peregrine a mysterious, floating goat, he'd have to admit that she was family. That she was far more worthy a pack mate and student than he'd ever truly deserve. As her green eyes stared, calculating, she realized that the goats were simply standing on ledges that were nearly impossible to detect...

An hour and several near misses later, she had made it a quarter of the way up the face— the damn goats had mocked her, jumping easily from ledge to ledge out of her grasp, but one in particular received her ire. It just sat there, as if it knew she would never make it. He was her target. After a few more minutes of labored climbing, it was just within her grasp— she extended her neck, jaws wide as they edged towards the goat's leg. As Magpie closed her teeth around the creature's ankle, she was suddenly slipping... suddenly falling... but her grip never wavered, and she brought the goat down with her...

It was probably the half-rotten leg of a deer that Osprey had found and gobbled down with little thought of what could happen later. Because now she felt sick to her stomach - unable to keep anything down and getting in fits of vomitting every now and then. She had considered visiting Blue willow for she would definitely have some kind of cure, but then she had had a second thought - what if this sickness would make the kids sick too? No, upset digestive system was not worth the health of little ones. Therefore she decided that she could get through this on her own and simply put some distance between her ill self and the rest of the pack.

Even though she had not eaten anything all day and had had a bit of water, she still felt nauseous and there was bitter taste in her mouth. Needless to say that she was not happy about this and therefore, as she padded further and further away from the pack lands, she tried to distract herself by thinking about more pleasant things. Unfortunately most of them were somehow linked to food and, whenever this crossed her mind, she felt her stomach twitch uncomfortably. She was not far from a place that was famous for having "flying and bouncing" prey, when she caught sight of wolf falling down a cliff along with one of the goats.

Now this was something and feeling both curious and worried she rushed towards the place of the event, to find out, if the wolf in question was alright.

Noting her injuries... concussion, cut on her brow, lots of small scrapes and bruises all over, left hind-ankle is sprained, probably a few fractured ribs.

I am fucking stupid, was all Magpie had time to think as she fell, watching the lines of rock go by, until the ground rose to meet her. Not even time enough to think, Shut the hell up, you stupid goat, which was bleating obnoxiously in its pain and panic. She was lucky that she hadn't climbed higher, or the fall would have killed her— as it was, the wind had left her, and she had lost her grip on her would-be prey. She could hear it crying nearby, struggling, but she couldn't see it for the blood in her eyes. Hopefully, it had suffered enough damage in the fall that she could kill it easily— and hopefully she hadn't suffered similar damage, herself. "Gravity, bitch," she gasped, a mutter underneath the short breaths she was attempting to regain.

Without soft snow to break her fall— and not having been lucky enough to land on the sheep— Magpie had met the cold, hard ground without buffer. Her entire body ached, her bones jarred, but there were points that were more painful then others... but she couldn't focus on that now. There was still a goat to deal with, and now it was personal. She struggled to her feet, whining as a hind ankle gave out on her— I won't be using that one, then— and attempted to shake the blood from her visage enough to see where the other creature had landed. She looked and felt terrible, but she was alive, and her purpose hadn't been forgotten, though she definitely felt drunk.

Osprey slowed her pace, when she had come close enough to the "crime scene" to catch scent not only of the dark wolf, but also blood and pain. This made her stomach twist and turn, and another inevitable wave of nausea washed over her. Oh, God... not here, please! She pleaded her mind/body/nobody in particulary, whoever was in charge of this kind of reaction. Strange it was - that she had seen and smelled worse, this was nothing new to her, yet the previous experience failed to win over the reflexes.

Eventually she drew in a deep breath and approached the wolf with what appeared to be ease, but in reality - it took her all the effort to ignore the awful smell and not turn to run for the hills. The wolf, even though it had got up to his feet, was not well. Only someone incredibly lucky would have got through this kind of fall with no injuries at all. And luck was a thing that most people lacked. As in this case. "Are you alright?" Osprey asked cautiously, while repeating over and over in her mind - don't throw up now, don't throw up now, don't throw up now.

Her efforts to shake out the blood were only partially successful— now she saw things in a sort of reddish haze, and in double. She staggered in a circle, forgetting her wounded ankle, and falling promptly to her rump with a sharp yelp of pain. "Frak," she said, spitting the word out like she had taken a bite out of the wrong end of a skunk. "I need that goa—" Magpie continued to ramble, though she couldn't remember why or really even what had happened a minute ago. Before she could finish the statement, a voice cut through the air, and Magpie quickly turned her head towards the source.

Big mistake. It felt like her brain was swirling around in her skull, stars flashing behind her eyes. Before she could even acknowledge the sudden wave of nausea, the yearling threw up her latest meal— red, bloody rabbit, which now had the added ick factor of being half-digested. "Yeah!" Magpie said a little too loudly, "I'm fine. But— the goat. I need to get that goat." Was it still bleating pathetically nearby, or was that just ringing in her ears?

ooc: I understand that this thread is important for Magpie plot-wise, therefore I will put it as my priority and I will try to reply to it as fast as I can.

Osprey's question about the she-wolf's well being had been quite foolish to begin with, because it was clear that no one, who had fallen from that kind of height could be left unharmed. She watched the stranger's effort to get up and, how confused it looked. It was far too easy for her to imagine, in how much pain the other was, and she winced, seeing the wolf fall down, as if that pain was her own.

Besides rambling about the goat it had to catch, but quite obviously could not and probably wouldn't get her paws on it, it emptied it's stomach right before Osprey's eyes. As if it was not bad enough already, now catching scent of the other's vomit, she almost fainted on the spot, therefore she took few involuntary steps backwards, until her hind legs gave way and she plopped down on haunches.

"Goat?" Osprey repeated weakly, casting a glance to the side, where the wounded creature lied. It was hard to tell in what kind of condition it was from afar, but it was moving and bleating. "That one?" she asked, feeling very stupid for doing that, but having nothing better to say.

Aww, thanks! I think in a few more posts I'll have enough to go off of, so I'm not worried. <3

If her mind hadn't felt like it was sloshing around in her skull, Magpie might have realized how incredibly disgusting she currently was— or fully realize her level of pain and that she probably shouldn't be moving much at all. She squinted at the wolf— wolves?— that spoke to her, the wound on her forehead clotting enough to now keep the blood from her eyes. Still, she couldn't see out of one of them due to its being swollen shut— that fact might have worried her more, too, if her brain wasn't currently so rattled. That the other wolves (she was certain there were two, now) were struggling to keep their composure was completely lost on Magpie.

"Yeesssss!" she exclaimed as they pointed out the ungulate she had taken with her in the fall. Eagerly, she told them, "Let's go kill it. Should be no pro—" she gagged, but continued to barrel on through her statement, "—blem between the three of us." Magpie moved towards her feet again, and just before setting her sprained ankle on the ground (which would have resulted in another collapse), she managed to remember her injury. Careful not to touch that limb to the ground, Magpie moved hungrily towards the goat— its bleats getting weaker. "Peregrine needs it," she emphasized, as if that would impart the gravity of the situation.

Something about the wolf's gaze seemed odd to Osprey, although she could not pinpoint, what it was. Mainly because her mind wasn't that clear either - she had to take another deep breath and lift her muzzle upwards to fight a wave of nausea. How bad one rotten piece of meat could get? She had had flu's before - it was inevitable, if you spent most of your time living a life of a scavanger - but then again, never had it been so bad and awful as it was now.

"Three?" the wolf's words brought her back to the present time and she cast a quick glance around to see, if there was another wolf around, who she had not noticed before. Or, who may have fallen down the cliff along with this one. No such luck - two of them and a goat, whose bleats grew weaker by the second. Without waiting any longer, the dark girl got to her feet again and hobbled in the direction of the goat.

"You are not serious," Osprey called out to her, getting up too and running up to the she-wolf. So - she would kill the goat and then what? There was no possible way this one could get anywhere far in this state. She could collapse somewhere and die. And if it was true about the recent influx of cannibals in these areas, then it was very likely that she would get eaten along with the kill.

"Peregrine? What is he going to do with a goat?" she furrowed her brow.

Magpie had paid little mind to whether or not the two wolves followed, walking an awkward three-legged walk towards the goat, her gait stumbling and drunk. When one of the two wolves questioned her conviction, the yearling paused and swung her head again— another wave of nausea causing her to dry heave as the world spun— to face them. "Forgive me," she told them, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I called him an asshole," she emphasized.

"A gaping asshole," Magpie corrected quickly after. It struck her as funny all of a sudden, and she broke out into giggles. Her entire life was a ridiculous joke. She had only been venting, as every healthy wolf does— but of course Peregrine had managed to hear it. Because her life was a big fat joke, and whatever luck that had seen her survive to adulthood all alone had apparently dried up.

She resumed her staggering walk, swaying over the goat, trying to find and focus on its jugular so she could stop its horrible bleating. "Stop moving," she hissed at it angrily— though it was her world moving, not the goat, which couldn't seem to put any weight on any of its legs even as it was still desperate to escape. "It has to go to the caldera and forgive me," she reiterated, unaware of the jumble she had made of her intentions.

I called him an asshole... a gaping asshole. When Osprey heard this, she almost lost it. It was hard to keep her expression serious and worried (because the wolf was delirious and kept addressing her as two wolves instead of one), when someone was so open about the foul words used to describe her brother. Had it been a different situation, she would have told the person to keep it's mouth shut, but at this moment... this was almost hilarious.

"Believe me, he has heard worse," she told her to make her feel a tiny bit better, even though she didn't deserve it. It didn't seem, however, that this mattered much to the wolf, who despite it's state made it's way to the goat and stood above it, trying to focus her gaze at the creature's neck and rambling something incoherent again. "Hey, I can do that for you," Osprey volunteered, when she came to stand by the dark she-wolf's side. She looked down at the animal, who was moaning pitifully. It's specific scent tickled her nostrils and, when she felt her stomach churn, she realized, what she had applied for.

Magpie had no way of knowing that the two wolves were actually Peregrine's sister, and it was probably better that she didn't. She was still an awkward mix of angry, hurt, and guilty— but hurting Peregrine's sister the way that he treated Fox's sisters would have felt good, at least temporarily. Still very clearly concussed, however, the yearling barely acknowledged the words of comfort. She wanted the goat dead, like, now— and then she planned to drag it all the way back to the caldera. She still had no inkling of how bad her state of affairs truly was, but as soon as her concussion began to fade, Magpie would be in a world of pain.

"Yes," the yearling agreed as the grey female came to stand beside her. "Kill the goat," she ordered, her speech slightly impeded as if she were drunk, and waited expectantly. Magpie might not yet be steady enough to make a precise bite to the jugular, but once the creature was dead, she'd be able to drag it by any part she was able to get her jaws around.

When the dark wolf accepted her offer, for a split of a second Osprey appeared to be miserable. With her sickness the last thing she wanted to do was to have contact with blood or meat. The very idea was very upsetting. But a given word was a given word. She would have to go through and the less she hesitated, the more quickly it would be over. Therefore she closed her eyes and pushed all of the nasty "bodily sensations" she had had today to the back of her mind. Then she looked down at the goat and with a deadly determination, she leaned down, grabbed it by it's throat and ended the poor animal's suffering.

After the goat went limp, Osprey released her grip and took several steps away from it, as if the mere sight of it repulsed her. Yet she had a feeling that everything was far from being over, therefore she eyed the stranger warily and asked: "Now, what are you going to do with it?"

I'm basing her behavior on the fact that my uncle walked miles home in ice skates, when he had a concussion. :P

Her world was still all spinning, still all bright lights. Magpie was still occasionally nauseous, but for the most part she had a handle on it— as long as she didn't move or try to speak too quickly. Because of this, she didn't notice the discomfort of her companion, instead selfishly focused on her goal and intention for the dead goat. She'd probably need to tell Peregrine that she had help in killing it, only because she couldn't really see straight, but she had pulled it from the mountain— that had been the hardest part!

"I need to get it to the caldera," she answered, nodding. "Thank you!" Magpie continued brightly, then bent to take a leg of the creature in her jaws. It would be slow going— she was still unsteady and temporarily three-legged— but the yearling began to drag it in the direction of the caldera in short little bursts. She was breathing hard, her ribs protesting every breath, but she paid it no mind. She could do anything, they'd all see!

ooc: you have one tough uncle! :) Would you mind, if Osprey tagged along? She could either help or would simply want to make sure that Magepie reached her destination. Feel free to tell her off in your next post, if you don't need that.

Either the wolf had hit it's head too hard or she hadn't been quite sane to begin - she could barely stand or think straight, yet it was determined to bring the goat all the way to caldera. A very, very long way, especially for someone, who was injured and had only three legs to use, instead of four. Osprey was not convinced by the other's optimism and, even though she would have gladly left the mad wolf to deal with it's quest on her own, she felt a pang of uneasiness. If this was Peregrine's subordinate and something happened to her along the way - she would feel responsible. Indirectly, but still.

Therefore she sighed and caught up with the wolf, following her and observing the other's progress curiously. "Do you need a helping hand?" she asked politely and at the same time she was angry at herself for being too good to strangers, while feeling so unwell herself. "I mean - you won't get to caldera on your own."

Last post from me, since we have the next thread going! <3

"Three heads are better than one," the yearling agreed without skipping a beat, though she hadn't released her toothy grip on the ungulate and the words came out all muffled. They would get back to the caldera faster if they all dragged the goat back, and getting the creature to Peregrine was Magpie's primary concern. It would be more impressive if she had done it alone, of course, but her desire for efficiency one out... and the little black-and-white wolf preferred company over loneliness almost always.

They started their slow and awkward progress back to the caldera, goat in tow.