Swiftcurrent Creek dissect me with this blunt little tool

@Tyrande:

(set directly after this thread

He dragged the girl victoriously into the clearing beside his den. Leaving her among the the various scattered skulls, Lecter regarded her with a mixture of incoherent emotions. "You will serve me here." His eyes glowed with a maddened, feral light.

"And the first thing I require is your pelt." Not in its entirety, but how was she to know that? Leaping at her, Lecter intended to bear her to the ground beneath him, with a warning growl for her to submit.

"You will serve me here." His eyes glowed with a maddened, feral light.

"And the first thing I require is your pelt." Leaping at her, Lecter intended to bear her to the ground beneath him, with a warning growl for her to submit.

Before Tyrande could answer she was smothered to the ground, which was rather terrifying in this case, considering that all she saw were skulls everywhere.

She whined with fear as she stared at the several heads that scattered the clearing. Wants my pelt? What does he mean? For a terrifying second, Tyrande thought she was about to join these skulls on the ground. Her shivering and not stopped, and she probably looked ridiculous underneath him as she flattened her ears and tucked in her tail, groveling pathetically.

The girl submitted with a shaking form beneath him, and Lecter flung the length of his thin legs over her, pinning her to the earth of the clearing. Snaking his muzzle close to her shoulder, Lecter began to pluck her dark fur, spitting it onto the loam, a warning growl emanating from his muzzle lest she try to rise and flee.

"Tell me of yourself," the shaman invited between his lashings of pain to her. He would not take a great amount of fur, just enough for his rites; it was her blood for which he lusted most, and eventually he would cause that to well upon his tongue as well.

Tyrande's muscles twitched in slight pain every time he went to pull the hairs out. Great, now I'm going to have a bald spot... She closed her eyes and tried to relax herself, ignoring the pain that burned on her shoulder.

"Um, Well I..."She didn't know where to start. "I am not from Teekon Wilds. I was born far away from here..."

Tyrande sighed. She didn't really want to share her past with this wolf. The cursed wolf who she hasn't known for that long and already made her feel undignified.

She blinked her eyes open for a second before closing them again. "I wasn't born in a pack either. This would be the first pack I've been, ah... accepted in.

"The first thing I remember is the night before my mother left. My mom was sobbing uncontrollably, and my brother... My brother Illidan was frozen in fear next to me. All three of us were watching the sky..." She flinched at a particularly harsh pull of fur but after a second, continued telling her background.

"The sky... There was a shadow. Yes... A shadow of an owl, a really, really big owl. And in it's claws... Its claws were... They were holding my sister, Zepora."

She shivered. She was bringing up old memories that was causing her eyes to water, or maybe that was the pain.

"Anyway, the morning after, my mom left me and Illidan to fend for ourselves. So we stuck together, like a mini-pack, if you would. But, a few months later, he caught an illness that made his skin grow burning hot to the touch... He... died a few days later.

"After that, I later found out my mom had died in a landslide, so I had no one else but myself... I eventually traveled here, and, uh, met up with you wolves of Swiftcurrent Creek..."

He listened to her tale, pausing in his blunt torture to allow her the time to speak. A tale of death and horror, and sadness and fear. He had beneath his claws a true victim, and had he not wished to rouse the collective disgust and terror of the Creek, he would have reared her upon blood and honey until she was a fitting sacrifice for Sos.

Lifting himself, he carried his clutch of her fur to his den. "You are bound to me now; I carry a piece of you, and should you turn upon me, or attempt to escape your time at this place, I shall kill you." He spoke the words calmly, knowing somehow she would believe him, for woe be to her if she did not, and tested the shaman.

Tyrande sighed again. She knew the words he spoke were true, because for the first time, he spoke calmly and without a mad glint in his eye.

"As you wish, Sir..."She said in her soft voice. For the first time, she had used her low, casual voice at him. For the first time, she used her actual voice, not a voice that was inflected by fear or guilt.

She stood up slowly and cautiously. After a second she rid herself of dust and flicked her head so that her long tuft of fur would stay out of her eye. She turned to look at him, a faint curiosity glowing in her eyes.

Tyrande spoke, but without the fear he had come to associate with her, and Lecter turned to give the girl a hard stare. "Come here." He ordered her with alacrity, not at all caring that she held a place within Swiftcurrent's ranks; for all intents and purposes, the woman belonged to him, and him alone. Fox's gift for her beloved shaman, he joked to himself.

Awaiting her obedience, the madman thought of what else he would amuse himself with before returning her to Fox and the redwolf's mercy, and what Fox would do with Tyrande. She was not a cruel creature; perhaps she would elevate the dark woman, as she had served her time.

Tyrande shook the dirt off once more before padding over to the shaman, rather reluctant. She was slightly on guard, afraid that he might snap at her for no reason... had had the authority to.

"Yes Sir?" She said slowly, eyeing his paws. She was still twitching from the bald spot he had created, so her shoulders awkwardly shifted in at each step, making it look rather funny...

Lecter did not speak to Tyrande, merely located an oakleaf that was not covered in dew and set it at her paws. "Hold still." Locating the bared patch of skin from where he had plucked her fur, Lecter lashed out carefully, lacerating the flesh just deeply enough to bring dark crimson droplets welling to the surface.

Grasping the stem of the leaf, Lecter held it to the woman's shoulder, catching the rivulets as they ran. Quickly did the blood dry, but the shaman had taken that which he wanted, and moved away from Tyrande with a contented chuff.

"You have done well here," he observed. "It was a good thing that I decided to spare you, though I had considered offering you to my God." A quizzical tip of the head; "do you yourself have gods?"

Tyrande sucked in her breath, making a small hissing noise a he made the cut, but relaxed when the pain dulled after a few seconds. She tilted her head questioningly.

" Gods? I don't belive my mother ever told me about gods. She only said that in this world it's kill or be killed, nothing about gods. We never shared stories about divine beings and such... Except for one..."

She paused herself and looked rather guilty, glancing at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so casual."

She bore his abuse with good humour, and he purred in approval as she spoke. Tell me, Lecter commanded. And we are casual, are we not? he joked, as their relationship was anything but such a thing. Moving toward his den, he deposited the leaf into a safe location and settled himself upon the ground. I have a mind to release you soon, the shaman murmured. Back to Fox, to see what she makes of you. Of course she is fair; she is not like me, Tyrande, Lecter muttered, using for the first time the shadow's name.

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This is based off a book series I read :p

Tyrande laughed drily, "Indeed." She turned back towards him. "My mother told me stories about a god known as Lupus, who would guard the Cave of Souls, where wolves who have led good lives go to rest. Then there is Skaarsguard, a wolf who would guide the spirits to their new home..." She paused for a moment, frowning. "But if you lead a terrible life, Skaarsguard will refuse to help you, and your soul will be swept away to the Dim World..." Her brow furrowed, trying to remember a little more. "She said every time you kill prey, you must thank Lupus, and thank the animal's life you took to live, you must perform something called lochinvyrr, where you honor the prey's attributes and strengths..."

She looked at him. " And, about all this... 'handing over to Fox' thing... you don't seem TOO happy about it."

She cursed to herself. She had a feeling that she was going to regret what she was about to say.

"I guess... if you want, as long as there is no killing involved... I guess I could stay wit you, maybe as an apprentice or something..."

I like that story, Lecter murmured when she had finished, quite taken with the tale. Mulling the names over in his mind, he also considered what she had to say about being his apprentice. Mm, I am in no need of an apprentice, the pale madman breathed, knowing this would disappoint Tyrande. But you are welcome to learn from me, so long as you depart when I tell you to do so. There are some things that are not meant for inexperienced eyes.

As far as Fox — my happiness has little to do with it. It is the right thing to do.By the both of you.

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Tyrande turned on him in a flash, forgetting in that second where she stood in this situation. She couldn't help it, though. The word inexperienced blazed through her like a forest fire.

"Inexperienced?Inexperienced? Who was a wolf that saw through pain and grief? Who saw her brother slip away from her, despite everything she did to save him? Who was the one left to die by her mother? A weak-hearted mother who left her pups because one of them was to suffer a death in pure agony? Who was the one who traveled through rain and storm to find safe haven? Or to eat like an alpha one day and like a lowly rabbit in winter the next? Is that not I?"

Lecter's lip curled as Tyrande rounded on him, and he rose to confront her with his yellowed fangs. You forget yourself, woman. Do not speak thusly to me. Her words did not go ignored, but Lecter demanded her submission first, before he answered her.

The things she had undergone did not mark her as strong in his tome, did not make the shadow worthy of his teachings or secret rites. These things were gifts, accolades, and not to be given freely.

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Tyrande faltered for a second, remembering where she was. Unfortunately for her, she had been so angry, her hackles had risen so far as to make her look almost twice her size. Reluctantly, she slowly lowered into submission, her once warm, violet-flecked, soft blue eyes now like lightning as they glared up at the old wolf. The submission ritual looked almost painful for her. Her mouth opened, as if she was about to retaliate, but thought better of it and simply glared up at him, wishing bitterly that she had the strength and courage to claw at him for putting her through this.

She suddenly began to blink back tears. No! she told herself, Don't you dare show weakness to him! Her eyes were watering as she continued to stare up at him acussingly, as thoughts of anger and pain and resentment tumbled around in her head. She felt as if she'd never understand these wolves and their high-and-mighty ways, looking down on wolves that were different from them... To her, it seems almost sickening.

And yet... And yet... she felt a twinge of respect for them, how they trusted one another, how they worked together to protect their family and their way of life. She couldn't help but admire them. Even this fleabag in front of her, she held a bit of respect for, the way he carried himself, even if he was a lunatic. She admired his strength, intellect...

Maybe theirs more to pack life than just doing others dirty work to get another meal...

wrap up with your next post? :)

She "submitted" with flashing eyes, much as she had done upon the borders that first day. Lecter curled his lip, hackles raising with a warning snarl. Get out of my sight, girl, he ordered. He did not wish to look upon her, nor did he wish to argue, or defend his position over her. Ears flared forward, eyes flashing, as he waited for her to comply, and if she did not, he would chase her from his clearing.

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Tyrande rose, angry, but shoulders slightly slumped in shame. She slowly turned and bounded out of the clearing. After a moment to collect herself. She turned back once, as if she wished to go back and talk to him, but thought better of it once again and continued away from his den.

A few minutes later, the fight was somewhat forgotten, and Tyrande, with her mind like a pup, splashed along the safer riverbanks of the creek. A flash of fur caught her eye as a small mammal tried to escape her sight. She was on it in an instant and quickly killed the prey. She looked down at it and blinked.

It was a vole, and a rather plump one at that.