Blackfeather Woods Woe is me

Going to say this ahead of time, just in case – you have my full permission to attack and injure Ragdoll. To make things interesting, one of you can go ahead and roll for the trespassing rule. c: 1-6 = moderate injury, 7-14 = severe injury, and then 15 = death! :D Of course, neither of you have to, but I figured why not give it a shot and gamble with his life lmao

Every bark that he created felt like glass sliding up his dry throat. It was torture, in its own way, but nothing compared to what he feared would happen if he remained within the cave. No matter how raw his throat became, he continued on with his noises, releasing bark after bark. Every time he tried to howl, tried to throw his voice even farther than the lengths by which his barking could reach, he’d be deafened by the continuous echoes. The repetition would assault his ears like nothing else before, the pitch resembling that of his domesticated canine-lineage. It was higher than that of a wolf’s, lacking the melodic frequency that his wild counterparts could achieve. While it felt horrendous and inspired a headache to form, it also served as a reminder of who he was—of what he was. That he wasn’t a true wolf, but a hybrid instead. An abomination, as some had once told him, a creature unfit to be living in the wild. Back then, he’d shaken their taunts off as nothing to be concerned with, for his father had promised to keep him and his siblings safe. To give him the life he deserved in the wild, rather than allowing him to be chained down in captivity. For a long while, his father had honoured that promise, too, but Ragdoll tore it all to hell.

The boy had no one but himself to blame for his predicament, and he was also the only one who could get himself out of it.

No matter how much pain ran its course through his body, he couldn’t give up. He had to keep trying, to survive and make it out of whatever hell he’d been dragged into. Again, the yearling’s jaws parted slightly, a gravelly howl rattling its way out of his throat, but never did he receive the opportunity to complete his toneless cry for help. He was cut off abruptly by the sound of an all too familiar voice. The same voice that had snaked its way through his mind every second he spent in the darkness, the same voice that haunted his dreams even while he laid awake. The voice of the dark woman, his captor, his tormentor. Instinctively, he sat up, only to crouch forward with his ears laid flat against his skull. His tail clung to his body, failing to weasel its way beneath his hindquarters, but making up for it by twisting around his thigh and settling against the inner region of his back leg. His eyes remained wide as they stared off into the direction from which the voice had come, though he was not yet able to see his abuser. When she decided to emerge from the shadows and allow a few stray strands of light to touch her nightmarish soma, his brief silence was ended as a whine was drawn out of his throat.

Ragdoll coiled back, little whispers in the back of his mind insisting she was about to attack. The voice he once recognized as his conscious assured him that she was there to finish the job she’d started, that she was going to tear into his flesh until there was nothing left to sink her incisors into. Panic entered his body, shortening his breaths and making his muscles stiffen. Pale eyes darted around frantically in a desperate attempt to locate some sort of magically-appearing exit, but there was nothing but darkness. Darkness, bones, and Death herself standing right before him. Suddenly, his eyelids pinched together, bracing himself for whatever was to come.

A second passed right on by, yet he didn’t feel teeth scraping against his flesh. Slowly, he allowed for his eyes to open as he peeked over at the woman, finding that she hadn’t moved. She remained where she was, her mouth being the only thing to change position as she told a tale. It was unlike any he’d heard before, pulling at his heart only to then drive fear deep into the beating organ. She didn’t have to give a name for him to figure out who the story was about, especially when she mentioned the appearance of a “mutt”. It was then that she decided to lessen the space between them, making the hybrid shrink back in a futile attempt to appear invisible. He didn’t want to hear her life story or learn of what she went through, he wanted to have his freedom given back to him. He wanted to run again without any worries, to carry on with his life until old age stole away his soul. Ragdoll didn’t want to die not knowing how it felt to truly live, to love another being with all he had to offer. He didn’t want to die before seeing his family again, his brothers and sisters, and even his parents. He didn’t want his life to end so soon.

The boy’s maw parted, his response eager to fill the air between them, but he was cut off by an obscured speaker. It was an unfamiliar sound, as was the appearance of the male who owned it. The only thing about the newcomer he recognized was the vibes he received as the shaded figure drew near. His words were like poison to the air, his soul dark and heart nonexistent. The male’s very essence was the same as Ragdoll’s captor, menacing and cruel. Pale blue eyes attempted to follow the darkness that was then circling itself around the trembling figure, trust no longer seeming to exist within his fatigued body. When the unknown presence stopped and spoke of “welcoming” the young wolfdog, his attention snapped back to Nemesis, a pleading look filling his features. “Please,” he begged, voice cracking from fear and the lack of use. “L-let me go… I won’t ever come back, I promise! I’ll s-stay away, you’ll never h-hear from me again.” It was his only wish, to leave the darkened cave and feel the sun against his coat once more. “I w-won’t even tell my p-pack about this, I swear!” In truth, he wasn’t technically a member of a pack anymore, but they didn’t need to know that.