Redhawk Caldera I'll cut your little heart out 'cause you made me cry

a great cleft in the earth in the middle of which she stood, the night all around deathly quiet. she had fled far after that man had come and stolen away her blood, never had she thought she would return again, not here. but perhaps it was chance, or the bold hope that she would find shadow-made-flesh here once more. but for whatever reason, here once again had the winds of chance blows her, and in this great crack in the earth, she had caught. 

the wolf steps lightly over the crumbled stone and dust, feels the earth shift and settle beneath even her feather-light weight. the cut is fresh, and like them, the earth bleeds; here and there fall earth and rock, the sounds eerie in the silent cleft. she pauses, nosing something sharp and metallic.  some creature found its end here, and some scavenger has ensured it did not go to waste.

With recent events, he had begun wandering further away from the Woods in order to investigate the trembling. Though he had asked for the pack to gather what they can, he still went on his way to do his own - he kept closer to Nightwalkers’ lands for the sake of keeping easy to find should anyone come back searching for him to deliver the news.

He found himself back in the Caldera. There was nothing left of the woman with the stars in her pelt, and so that was not the reasoning for his return. In fact, he remembers only her being dead and nothing more, the details were no longer important to him - but there was something new that caught his attention instead. The sight was not hard to miss. 

She was small. Certainly not a pure wolf. The mud-blood of a canine padded through the crags, and looking for a little bit of fun, the behemoth approached. Never one to turn his back on what could be entertaining... at least, when he had some time on his paws that could be wasted. Watch your steps, the earth is still rather unstable...​ He said, approaching her head-on as there was no attempt to hide his presence.

the man that approaches is not shadow-made-flesh, and yet he too is not entirely wolf. she knows this instinctively, in the same way she knew that the neon stare of shadow-made-flesh was unearthly, but she does not know what has come to walk upon the earth in the shape of this wolf, not yet. 

she falters, gaze dropping to his chest, at the same time shifting fluidly into submission, holding herself low over the earth, tail curled and auds flicked back. tongue moves to flick over her lips, and she murmurs an affirmative, "it's dangerous." how foolish of her, to dare tread in this place, especially when creatures like this one tread it too. she does not shift, does not speak, but waits for some signal from the stranger. Elysium was, perhaps, her last chance at gaining some sort of confidence; but how fleeting was her respite.

Watching her reaction... her posture, he smiled. A grim dark grin that the devil himself would be proud of should he see the creation he had cursed the earth with using the devil's grin himself. She was submissive... scared. Not many showed such vulnerability, it was a rare treat - and something that he would not let go to waste either. Yes. The word rolls off his tongue in an odd, dangerously soft tone. 

As she lowered himself, he grew taller, broad shoulders squaring off as his ears reached to the skies. He was proud, lapping up her unease as he inched forward a little more, invading her personal space so much so that their fur may as well touch. he tested her boundaries... her reaction... for someone like her; he had half the mind to bring her back to the Nightwalkers as a toy. perhaps a living target for the puppies to use to practice against when it came to their battle training... 

It's too dangerous for someone like you here. What are you doing in such a place? He continued with that torturous tone of his from before. Toxic, and yet sweet.

he reacted as best as she could have hoped; there was no aggression, no sudden turn to fangs and claws. she was aware, however, of how near the threat of such things lurked. he fed off her submission, grew near, and she remained still and meek and pliable. but then he inched closer still and she rolled into full submission, belly-up, limbs held close like an arachnid in death, tail curled betwixt her haunches. 

"nothing. I am only hungry." she whispers, gaze fixed to his chest. perhaps he will simply let her move on, and once again will she become dust in the wind.

Though such submissive moves were disgusting, the gears began to move. (I'm gonna set this after @Clay's interaction with Vengeance if that's okay to the both of you!) She would be perfect for the young boy he had just found. Such a kind, sweet girl, having done nothing wrong - he could use her to break the boy's own submissive and frightening act. 

I can keep you fed. The faux kind words slithered from his toxic lips. With what food, too, he kept that to himself. Should she follow - he would keep to his promise of keeping her fed, oh yes. But she would be eating his diet. His diet of whatever he found. But you must help me in return.

did she want to follow the man? not especially. he was rot and death and fear incarnate, and she was the kind of thing he would simply crush underfoot. tongue passes over her lips again, quick and nervous, though what slips from her maw is a "thank you." 

and just as quickly as he'd stepped into her fragile life was she in his debt. oh, she could flee, or refuse, or do any matter of things. and yet there came only acceptance, the possibilities of anything else other than, "I will," quick and fleeting and just as quickly gone from her thoughts.

Good. What I have in line for you is not easy, but for the greater good. In return, your belly will always be full. 



Perhaps it was her instinct for survival that was stronger than his - but Vengeance saw her as foolish. Trusting him; or perhaps she would pull a Radar and flee at the moment she saw the opportunity, the moment that prey was more abundant... If he played his cards right, she would remain no matter what. With enough manipulation, should he succeed... She would be putty in his paws.

I am Vengeance, you are my ward. If anyone else crosses you, they will be crossing me; is that understood? Only he would be the master of her torment, her sanctuary as well as the pitfall she found herself in. Just like a fly ensnared by the sweet perfume of a venus fly trap, she was his to digest. Come, I will show you your new home.

As soon as he finished, should she introduce herself as well or not didn't matter to him - he would call her as he wished until she did give him a name on her own accord - and began to walk in the direction back toward the haunted woods.