Fox's Glade devil by the well

for days the sky loomed about in a stagnant grey chill - constantly announcing a downpour that never seemed to arrive - and it was an atmosphere that matched the brittle, sulking attitude of the former warhound: stigmata. the walls of bearclaw were closing in on him; he couldn't let this travesty of a pack carry on much longer without intervening, but he never operated without a plan. never without weighing all his options. so in this, he was careful, and in all things he was patient. stigmata was in no rush to accept the responsibility he aimed to receive. it was a daunting task, all of it, and the primed tactician wanted to be more than prepared for it.

under the cover of night, hoping to avoid more accusatory glares from indra, stigmata stole from his pack's territory and began to scout beneath the clouded night-sky for something with which to expel his virile energy.

There she was with a duck's neck clamped between her teeth. She knew what came next and perhaps that's why there was some purpose in her step, an energetic glimmer in her eyes. Bearclaw was not too far now if her memory recalled the older male's instructions right. High stone walls, hard to miss.

Yet there he was. Not at Bearclaw waiting for her but out here in the glad. Her tail waved behind her with ease, a familiar comforting feeling swept over him. He was still here and she had returned. She offered a small boof with the duck still settled between her jaws. Perhaps it was not the most impressive duck but the pickings were slim with the rotation of seasons and she had brought him what he had wanted.

at the sound of soft footfall on tender loam, followed by a quiet bid for his attention, stigmata snapped his muzzle in the direction of rosemallow - a duck dangling from her jaws. he was not prepared for the overwhelming feeling of pride and relief he felt from seeing her in that moment. not only this, she had been coming to him specifically, her given task completed. he had not gone easy on her, having hoped to test her determination to please him, and the silver-eyed haunter was not disappointed.

his tail lifted and wagged, and he came to greet her without reservation. "you have done well, my lady," he praised, taking the duck from her and giving it a firm, vicious shake to test its rigidity. once satisfied with the corpse's relative freshness, he deposited it at his feet. "have you eaten recently? here," he asked and declared in the same breath, panting through his excitement and eagerness to accept this pledge as his own; ready to serve her as readily as she had done for him.

he took up the waterfowl once more and tore through it, not waiting for rosemallow's assertions before he started to pick at the delicate innards he craved. for the moment he left the duck's neck and rib quarters detached and untouched, close for his companion's retrieval if she dared.

after sharing the sparse meal, stigmata warned rosemallow that he intended to usurp leadership at bearclaw, and expressed a desire to keep her unburdened by the matter for the time being. they parted, but he hoped he might come across again in the future.