Horizon Ridge iii: something wicked (m)

the path of emerald green splattered and drenched in blood making it gleam like oilslick, with a trail made of the poor canidae's entrails leads ingram from the disfigured and rapidly stiffening corpse. for a moment, he's tempted to take a bite but stills that darkening urge by tightening his grasp upon the moss laden antler he found on his travels following the trail to the predator.

the heavy pawprints over shadow his own and it does not take him long to track her, following the putrid scent of carnage and whatever wisps of scents that she carries on her. strange but clearly belonging to a beast much more powerful than he.

the lumbering shape is a silhouette morphing out of the shadows and it takes ingram a moment — and then another as his steps cease and his guard hairs prickle in warning as he gently sets his antler prize down at his paws ( to himself or to her, he is not sure ) — to realize she is a bear.

ursus. hadn't merrick spoke of bear gods?

was this one of his gods manifested into flesh?

are you a god? he asks the bear, unsure if she will understand him. unsure if she would even acknowledge him. the closest thing to 'holy' ingram knew from the wisps of praimfaya's culture that he's stolen and twisted to suit him was the commander.

and he'd killed her.

ingram's posture is weary as he watches her with a mixture of caution and perhaps muted reverence; muscles fidgeting beneath his pelage, head bowed low ...ready to grab his antler and bolt should it come to it.