Duck Lake fortitude

Warthog was not made for leadership, and so she had no intention of scrapping and squabbling with the others to earn the rank of rulers below Dogmeat. Instead, the brooding hulk kept unto herself, pausing in her treks to cleanse the injured flesh of her dewclaw with careful licking, and the rents in her side were given equal attention. Slowly she healed, and with renewed strength came renewed hunger.

At the Lab, they had been given regular meals. Bland, to be sure, but the cardboard taste filled the belly if it did not titillate the senses. Here, in this veritable wasteland of snow and ice, the hot smell of blood ran rampant, and her drooling was increased tenfold by the odd glance she caught of rabbits in their wintercoats, alighted ravens, and yes, wolves.

At midday, the gnawing of her belly grew to a fever pitch, and she limped from her shelter beneath icy brambles to search again, desperation coloring her step as her massive head swung from side to side in her intent to track.

It was the rustling of snow being moved about by a lumbering form that awoke Reaper from his nap. The fact that he had even managed to fall asleep in this strange, foreign place was nothing short of a miracle. Blinking his eyes groggily (the left had stuck together from the blood from his wound), the mutt then cast them around as he surveyed the little area the dogs had claimed for the moment. A large, dark form had separated herself from them, moving away with a limp. He stared, watching her go, before pulling himself to his feet and following after her at a distance.

He had lost sight of his fellow lab-mate a few times but the unmistakeable scent was easy to follow, and he soon came across the Rottweiler again as she travelled towards a small lake. She appeared to be hunting. Hunger twisted at Reaper's own stomach and he skirted around behind her, veering left with his nose to the ground, intent on helping the fellow beast hunt — despite the fact that he really had no knowledge of how.

"Reaper," she gritted in a rasping monotone as she turned to see the canine dogging her steps. She was as lost as he when it came to the hunt, but pretended at a facade of knowingness. The scent of rabbits taunted her, and she lapped futilely at the saliva dripping from her jaws.

Large paws carried her to the entrance of a burrow, but her muzzle was too broad for investigation, and so Warthog glanced back at Reaper, an entreaty in her soft brown eyes. Perhaps he could do the honors?

Her hoarse greeting was met with a silent nod from the male as he took a few moments to recollect the other dog's name. Warthog, wasn't it? He had barely knew any of his fellow dogs by name, though they had had a chance to introduce themselves to each other after the van incident. He was well used to their scents, though, and knew he had made each one's acquaintance at one time or another in the lab (though they were most likely all drugged at the time).

The two continued searching, before Warthog came across a burrow. Reaper lurked close by, watching intently, though something seemed to stop the drooling canine. He stared back at her as she turned to face him before he drifted cautiously towards the tiny den. A strong scent emanated from it, one that caused his ears to swivel forward with interest. Slowly, he poked his slimmer muzzle into the burrow, curiously sniffing at the scents that wafted outwards. A sudden movement way in the back caught his eye.

Immediately erupting into a fit of barks and snarls, the mutt wasted no time in digging at the burrow, desperate to get at the family of rabbits that were now cowering in fear at the back of their home.

His sudden flurry of activity sparked the same in the female, and she paced hurriedly back and forth behind him, giving a single stentorian bark. Stipples of saliva dotted the ground and she whined impatiently, before shouldering up alongside him to squint into the hare-scented darkness. "maybe I dig, and you chase," the Rottweiler muttered from the wreckage of her ill bred face.

Giving no time for Reaper to respond, the hulking woman fell to thrusting her paws into the earth, throwing loam back behind her, features besotted with the grim focus of single-minded and murderous intent.

He paid no intention to the other dog, focused as he was on tearing into the earth, until she gave loud bark that caused him to pause, spinning around with a low growl. He followed her with eyes that were alight with hunger as she muttered a suggestion before ripping up the ground with her powerful paws. It was a better plan than Reaper's gung ho attitude, and he skipped back a few paces, ears pinned back as he stared at the burrow with the same fierce intensity as Warthog.

Eventually, one of the rabbits took their chances and bolted from the den, narrowly avoiding being taken out by the Rottweiler's digging paws. It was a scraggly thing, perhaps not even worth the effort to a less hungry dog, but Reaper currently regarded anything with a heartbeat as food. Snapping his jaws, the mutt gave chase to the terrified creature, zig-zagging through the snow as it twisted and turned, desperate to get away from the beast.

Warthog bayed approval as Reaper tore off after the rabbit who had escaped her own snapping jaws; she was large and fierce, but ponderous in her movements. Bounding after him with a grace that belied her huge size, the Rottweiler snarled and shook with anticipation, drool flying from lips skinned back to display the massive teeth in her ruined skull.

"get 'im get 'im!" she chanted in an excited monotone, wide paws slapping the earth as she too tried to whirl in the hunting dance, but instead of using Reaper's ballet-step, Warthog was attempting to smash the terrified rabbit-beast into the snow.

The terrified creature could not outrun the two hungry beasts; they were gaining on it with every step. While the dogs both shared the same coat colours, they were very different in build (and even more so when it came to their face). Were Reaper skidded on his turns and nimbly leapt through the snow, Warthog seemed to simply throw herself through it, her large paws crushing almost everything underfoot — including the unfortunate rabbit.

With a shrill cry, it fell as Reaper successfully injured it's hind leg with a snap of his jaws, and quickly succumbed under Warthog's heavy stomp. Blood tainted the snow, and the mutt grinned hungrily as he glanced at his hunting partner, releasing a sort of raspy noise that was supposed to be a laugh. Like the other dog's disfigured features, his torn vocal cords and stunted mental prowess were also a side-effect from the lab. "Rrrrraaabit," he muttered with effort, leaning forward to sniff at the remains of the tiny meal.

She stomped the life from the furry little thing, and bellowed in surprise and joy as her paw came away dripping with gore. "rabbit, she agreed with the grinning spectre of Reaper, parading around in a small circle before she snapped her jaws twice in the bunny's direction, not quite touching it, reliving the adrenaline of the kill.

The scent of hot blood filled her nostrils, caused her stomach to churn. The soft brown of her eyes darkened, and she paced nearer the dead animal with possessiveness borne in her stance. There was not enough here for them both, and, while she wanted to share, there was also no guarantee they would find another.

Warthog growled, the sound muffled by snow that began to gently fall.

It became apparent that the actual hunt had been easy — it was consuming it that was the hard part. Reaper was all too ready to simply wolf down the meal, the scent of blood and fresh meat wafting into the air. He breathed it in with haggard breaths, his chest heaving from their efforts from moments ago. It was obvious the tiny rabbit was much too small for the both of them and, while they had found a family of the critters, the others had probably escaped by now while the beasts were distracted.

The dog noted the change of Warthog's bearing, her former victorious demeanour changing into something much darker. Hungrier. Reaper bowed his own head with a rumbling growl, his eyes meeting her own as she made to stand over the kill. Their camaraderie from moments before had all but disappeared into the air and, despite his hunger, the dog knew Warthog wouldn't think twice about tearing into his throat if he made for the meagre scrap of meat. Eyes flicking from it to the other dog's disfigured face, Reaper gave a snarl before turning on his heel and stalking off leaving Warthog with her meal — wisdom winning out over hunger, for now.