Phoenix Maplewood ii. "and i will translate you"

This day, Ulysses has fitfully killed a wolverine. The bastards are hardy, thick skinned, and nasty. They'll fight until every drop of life force is drained out of them. They make horrible noises and some get fairly big. 


This one put up a strenuous fight. Ulysses couldn't avoid those sharp claws all together, so he's got a couple scrapes and scratches, perhaps a few bites as well. It was a bloody battle and by the time he's able to kill it, the graphite tinted fur of his face and neck are dripping and stained in blood; making his fur a deep maroon. His paws are bloodied up and he has the wolverine caught in his mouth by the base of its skull, dripping with its own lifeforce.

He keeps the kill until he gets to safer grounds. The sunshine busting through the trees and illuminating the grass is a stark contrast to the look of this massive being bloodied and carrying his latest meal. He comes across this clearing and his metallic white eyes snap to the form of another wolf.

His eyes suspiciously rake up and down their form, they're on the smaller side of the spectrum, easily dwarfed by him due to his horrible mutation. Their scent finally wafts into his nostrils, now he puts two and two together. With her sleek and distinctly feminine form it's a wonder he didn't know she was a female in the first place. But her coat made her so unusual, those blonde and brown splotches coded her not exactly pure bred wolf. 

He wondered where she came from. Especially now that he watches her delicately pick fruits of vines. He takes it upon himself to leave her be. 

He doubts he's a sight for sore eyes when he's all covered in blood like this. So he takes a–supposed to be silent–step to head the other direction, minding his own business, when a thick twig snaps underneath his massive weight. He freezes, turning his large head towards her. Ears pressed back in irritation, he'd hoped to go by unseen but it seems life has other plans at the moment.