the world does not care about you or me

I appreciate you joining. :D Can't say the same for Tatsuya here...Scratch is probably gonna hear him anyway LMAO. I don't know why he's tryin' to be stealthy.

The silence was no blessing, no balm for addled nerves. More land, less water. This is what he wanted, what he needed. Some areas where he stepped seemed shallow when in actuality they were deep ditches. As if someone had dug here and there for some unknown design. Kapvik spent more time floundering about than making progress. It did not help that his underside and extremities were completely soaked with mud, grass, water and who knows what else. To add to his misfortunes, the never-ending fright of drowning hung over him like a darkening cloud.
INDENT“私はここでそれを嫌います。” Here was a rather broad term. The Teekon Wilds were adequate, but this vale was too boggy for a proper expedition. Kapvik had hoped to come across signs of herd activity. Buffalo, deer, elk, anything. Alas, the only prey here were of the aquatic variety...
INDENTOh, no. Fish was not the only thing here. Hunkering down, Kapvik stood still at a flash of orange-red moved through some far off trees. He knew that color all too well. Fox, dead ahead. His 'mane' became prickly, lips trembling, volcanic eyes centered. This vermin posed no threat to him (or his pack), but it was not the concept of danger that drove him to do this. It was instinct. Eyeing his prey, he watched as the fauna slunk into compact leafage, departing from view. Darn. It was probably a lost cause...Oh. Who am I kidding? Tenacity won him over. It was too soon to give up the hunt.
INDENTKapvik moved as mutely as he could, timing his steps with Scratch's own. That way, his approach could be passed off as the fox's own doing. Though this was a genius (in his opinion) plan, Kapvik had nowhere to hide. All the fox had to do was turn around, focus through the copse of trees and spot him. If he could do that. The wolverine was keen on stopping every time the fox's head bobbed or his ears rotated atop his tiny crown. It was a drawn-out, conscientious process that could end in failure, yet Kapvik was stubborn; desirous to taste, to feel the creature's blood coating his muzzle and sliding down his throat like a fine wine.