The clouds, thick and heavy with rain, made it hard to discern how late or early in the day it was. In the drear of that low noon, a black wolf ascended the face of a colossal basin. His steady trot was dogged and stiff against the inconsistent rise of churlish gales. His head was set level to his shoulders, and his nose pointed forward with a missile's intensity. The rain would start up again soon, he knew, but it would not stop his hunt.
It was an injured ram he pursued; an unfortunate beast whose bloody scent tainted the air for miles around. He had been its undoing— rending open its flank as he had— but he was a patient hunter. He wouldn't rush what was to come anyway. He saw no need to expend his energy dealing another fatal blow. For the further the bighorn ran from him, the closer it came to death.
It was an injured ram he pursued; an unfortunate beast whose bloody scent tainted the air for miles around. He had been its undoing— rending open its flank as he had— but he was a patient hunter. He wouldn't rush what was to come anyway. He saw no need to expend his energy dealing another fatal blow. For the further the bighorn ran from him, the closer it came to death.
She wanders, unassuming but alert. Hunger clings to her, an ever present pest, unshakeable not matter what manner of small game she manages to capture and consume. She tries, but she is and always has been small and by trade she is a scout, not a hunter. How she has sustained herself for this long with neither her pack nor her brothers is a mystery to her.
The pale agouti is aware of the looming clouds and the likelihood of rainshowers that they hold. She hopes the humidity will amplify scents, and to her chagrin, it does. She smells blood, the blood of a ram. Saliva pools around her tongue, but the female knows not to get her hopes up. The scent can very well be the result of minor injury and she has no chance of taking down a large, able-bodied animal on her own. She follows the odor a few paces before taking note of wolf-scent lingering with it. These discoveries excite, intrigue, and frighten her all at once.
footsteps that are not her own are the next thing to come to her attention. Tseitel finds herself trotting several feet parallel to a swarthy male sauntering along the same track. Knowing that this could be good or bad, she casts her ghostly eyes towards him, hoping for some sort of recognition or communication. She will not - and cannot - challenge him, but she can help him, with the possibilty of earning a result favorable to her own needs.
The pale agouti is aware of the looming clouds and the likelihood of rainshowers that they hold. She hopes the humidity will amplify scents, and to her chagrin, it does. She smells blood, the blood of a ram. Saliva pools around her tongue, but the female knows not to get her hopes up. The scent can very well be the result of minor injury and she has no chance of taking down a large, able-bodied animal on her own. She follows the odor a few paces before taking note of wolf-scent lingering with it. These discoveries excite, intrigue, and frighten her all at once.
footsteps that are not her own are the next thing to come to her attention. Tseitel finds herself trotting several feet parallel to a swarthy male sauntering along the same track. Knowing that this could be good or bad, she casts her ghostly eyes towards him, hoping for some sort of recognition or communication. She will not - and cannot - challenge him, but she can help him, with the possibilty of earning a result favorable to her own needs.
June 19, 2018, 10:57 PM
Duskhall moved with single-minded intent at a steady-beat pace; not an ounce of haste or stealth to his trot. Hypnotized by the thrumming rhythm of his pursuit, he was slow to react to the drumming sound of an additional set of pawsteps invading his peripheral. He came to an abrupt halt, turning his long, fiendish muzzle towards the encroaching she-wolf: an ashen-blonde agouti whose silver-green eyes he met fiercely.
His bristling, stiff-legged response came, at first, from being startled. He remained this way even after he'd sized her up and concluded that, in her present state, this featherwisp could not best him. The rippling-black skeleton settled a moment later, his anxiety passing so that it might turn to annoyance; displayed by a slicking of his ears. Then, without discussion or debate, the wraith seemed to reluctantly acquiesce to his presented company while simultaneously resuming his soldier's march ahead.
His loose-limbed body language was meant as neither acceptance or deterrent, only neutrality to her involvement in the half-finished hunt— which would be as much or as little as she chose. Either way, he pressed on.
His bristling, stiff-legged response came, at first, from being startled. He remained this way even after he'd sized her up and concluded that, in her present state, this featherwisp could not best him. The rippling-black skeleton settled a moment later, his anxiety passing so that it might turn to annoyance; displayed by a slicking of his ears. Then, without discussion or debate, the wraith seemed to reluctantly acquiesce to his presented company while simultaneously resuming his soldier's march ahead.
His loose-limbed body language was meant as neither acceptance or deterrent, only neutrality to her involvement in the half-finished hunt— which would be as much or as little as she chose. Either way, he pressed on.
Sorry for the horrendous wait!
no worries ! I dont mind, I'm slow af sometimes lol
The dual-toned eyes pierce her so that she flinches noticeably. She watches his demeanor shift from aggression to irritation to acceptance and neutrality. Tseitel rights her posture, pleased. It is always risky to approach this sort of situation, especially when it involves a much stronger canine. But he appears to concede to her presence and her offer of assistance. The ash-blonde female resumes her footsteps by his side. The scent of the ram grows stronger with each stride, as Tseitel throws sidelong glances towards the nameless stranger awaiting further instruction. This is his hunt; she is merely his assistant, and whether or not she will eat should they bring down the ram will be his decision.
The dual-toned eyes pierce her so that she flinches noticeably. She watches his demeanor shift from aggression to irritation to acceptance and neutrality. Tseitel rights her posture, pleased. It is always risky to approach this sort of situation, especially when it involves a much stronger canine. But he appears to concede to her presence and her offer of assistance. The ash-blonde female resumes her footsteps by his side. The scent of the ram grows stronger with each stride, as Tseitel throws sidelong glances towards the nameless stranger awaiting further instruction. This is his hunt; she is merely his assistant, and whether or not she will eat should they bring down the ram will be his decision.
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