Neverwinter Forest and i wish i’d known that you were bleeding while i sat and watched you reading

they rested high on hills far from caiaphas’ place of assault, the crone supine on a bare ridge that afforded them fair view of the valley below... and a fair view of any would-be assailants.

shortly after their ambush, they had been joined by a strange spectre @Merrick referred to as his companion. caiaphas had first mistaken the consort for rallying enemies, and had taken some convincing to allow the blackbird that smelled of nightwalkers near.

resentful of her current condition, caiaphas had given directive to the dark shade to search for plants to soften their injuries, and deafen their pain. here vegetation was sparse in the height of autumn’s splendor, but some hope was had that the blackbird would not return empty-handed.

in their flight, the nightshade had joined them. merrick wept to see her, to mingle his bloodied scent with that of her own. together; together; together; he had kissed her cheeks in a feverish relief. 
his great wound now began to stiffen; the roving glow of merrick's single eye glinted longingly after astara while caiaphas sent her off. it was a good place the old one had chosen; he rolled to his side with a pained growl and regarded the crone with a vague look of curiosity.
"he will die ," merrick grunted, not bothering to clarify of whom he was speaking. she would know.

Writing on the metro so short/weird. If he's not spotted, it's a two part sorta cameo.

Mal had not found their crossing point at the borders but their trail deeper in. Three? Seriously? Three nose-blind fools who came in smelling of blood and rot? Hints of a fourth too? Maybe. Depended on if it was friend or for. The number made him wary, and one smelled like the Nightwalkers, Mal was right to not trust them. He was keen on staying alive, so as much as he wanted to beat some sense into them, it was best he do recon.

He followed. And when he finally spotted who it was at a distance, it caused a sudden retreat back into thicker camouflage to spy. It was the psycho black headed chick! And friends apparently.  It didn't take any convincing for him to decide the three were criminals on the run (Elysium taught him that people generally ask for help, even if the pack leadership is as dumb as a box of rocks) and that he wasn't keen on dealing with them to start. After all, who would stay with a homicidal undead who should be dead? Nobody sane.

Thanks to earlier intrusions he'd thought up half a plan for what to do about this sort... if the fourth scent was the one who hurt them, it was a keen opportunity to put it into action. But he had a few things to do first. He'd retreat unnoticed if he could.

another lingered just out of caiaphas’ detection — for the wind played them no favors today, and much of the forest was obscured in shadows.

caiaphas set to cleaning her wounds, one leg bracing against the cold ground as she tended the blood crusted hole in her haunch. she bitterly cursed the cur to inflict this upon her, and hoped his end was rife with long and assailing pain.

merrick need not speak of the soul he referred; caiaphas nodded darkly. aye, let him bleed out like a boar. it is the fate he earned. for attacking her out of the blue, caiaphas thought he deserved far worse than simply bleeding to death — but she would take small victories where she could. is your friend, the dark one, trustworthy? caiaphas briefly considered astara might be returning to the nightwalkers to inform them of their relocation — her needling gaze held merrick in full then, awaiting his answer.

astara roved — but not for the witch. 

her nose carried her far through the pine-studded forest, into a dark grove of conifers where little else grew but moss and ferns. 

she found scant things to stave the hag’s wounds, but her nose did detect something else... the barest thread of wolf-markings, seemingly of wolven origin. 

senses on alert, astara tracked back towards merrick and his new friend, a fistful of leaves and moss held within her jaws. she could smell nothing save the odiferous, almost astringent lichen held in her mouth — and as such, completely missed the owner of the markings she had discovered earlier. 

astara made a point to walk past the crone towards her lover; she was old, and in astara’s eyes her life was forfeit. merrick would get the choice bits of the meager plants astara had found — and the wizened hag could get whatever piecemeal scraps were left. fixing the hooded she-wolf with an insolent glare, astara silently dared her to outcry, eager to place a fang in that old bag’s hide. 

after all, merrick was hers and hers alone —  and astara would stay by his side long after this ugly crone withered to dust.. which from the looks of it, would be quite soon.

he settled the burnt glint of his single eye upon the witch, searching her tone for the displeasure
indra's displeasure
once shown his shadow.
"she is all i have," merrick declared with the ferocity of the very young, teeth clicking upon air as he turned toward caiaphas the misguided anger encouraged by his own wound. "what will you do now?" the pair of them were too injured to hunt the wilderness for the bastard's daughter, and now the yearling pair had left the nightwalkers due to merrick's wild trajectory. 
astara returned, capturing him; merrick reached toward her with a low sound of contentment despite the throb of wolf-torn flesh.

He froze, a distant shadowy shape moved between the trees.  But it didn't seem to notice him.  The third person?  Hell.  Time to go put things to action.  First off, he peed in the entrance of the nearest rabbit warren to encourage the damn things to stay hidden for a few days.  Next was to the nearest of the two caches.  It wasn't exactly super full, so he scarfed down a few buried rodents that had been stashed and carried what remained back to the farther one to bury.  If he ran into @Cèilidh then he would quickly mention his scheme, to tell that the cache there would be their fortress.  He had a plan, and it was a little weird, but it was better than nothing, so time to give it a shot. 

That done, back to the trail they'd walked, and he followed it to the borders.  He scratched the earth on either side of their path across what was his now meticulously kept borders (nose-blind twits, ugh), marking it to show that he knew it was there and that he wasn't hiding it.  Why?  Well, soon to find out.  He looked out into the fields beyond, and not seeing anyone at the moment, he just had to get past his nerves.  Adrenaline had him shaking a little, and he had to take a minute or two to steady his nerves and ready himself.  He needed a cool head.  He was a leader.  He would believe in himself.  He'd had plenty of time between each invasion and harassment to think up a plan, to work on the wording.  The fact that he was familiar with the black headed woman and knew that she was willing to tear out some throats, and that she and that one guy were pretty messed up... Mal wasn't exactly leaping too far to conclusions, but he was reaching a little.

And so, with that done, he tipped his head to the sky and howled as loud as he could with a reasonably simple message, Wolf-hunters -- the murderers are hiding here.  It was melodic, maybe one or two notes higher than he normally would -- hopefully enough difference to make anyone who'd want revenge for him rightfully tattling on intruders slightly question whether it was him or not, but honestly at a certain point he didn't give a damn.  If you cannot remove the vermin yourself, you call in the (made up) exterminators, and even if people that might be hunting them didn't arrive, it might be just enough bluff to shoo the three on to some other place.  This was not their sanctuary.  This was Mal's, and he'd burn it to the ground before he'd let them stay. He moved under cover and waited, listened, watched.

Tagging a few peeps in the nearby threads, or who might not have gone far and thus might hear.  Since he's off doing several things, I'm totally cool with you guys deciding to have the howl delayed a round of posts before being heard, but this is potentially my last one here unless peeps show up at the borders (can be in a different thread), or someone directly goes to hunt him down.
@Hydra @Dirge @Dacio @Vengeance @Alison

*holds out for that AU where Mal recruits them to NWF*

merrick’s blackbird returned, and the boy’s words echoed in the crone’s mind — she is all i have. well you best hold tight then, dear. people have a way of just up and disappearing on you. she would be the expert — how many times had someone just left her to die?

caiaphas watched astara silently, a wry tinge of amusement gracing her battleworn features as the girl made it a point to sweep past her. merrick was given most of the fruits of astara’s labor — caiaphas picked over the rest as astara deposited in front of her the sap crusted presence of a pine cone.

a pine cone. for a moment it seemed the crone was enraged — yet then laughter pealed from her lips. this one was fresh — and if caiaphas was smart, she ought not trust her offerings at all.

caiaphas was about to comment on the boldness of merrick’s silent companion when a summoning howl laced from the pine top. her ears flew forward, a grave expression dousing her dark muzzle. you may want to hide. take your girl with you. someone has seen us. in my experience it’s best to kill loose lips. will she know what to do? her expression grew dark with bitterness — to be attacked out of the blue and then soused out of the woods like a pair of rats smoked from a tunnel — well, it went without saying neither of them were having a good day. let’s go.

a cry rose up, and with it sparked murderous intent within merrick. had he not been so ravaged, he would have flown after the caller and put him to death, spattered this wood with his sinner's blood. but as it was, the boy was hard-pressed to collect himself, nudging astara sharply at the tone in caiaphas' voice.
so they were to be routed before they even had a chance to rest. he was bone-weary and shot through with agony; the burn of his single eye sauntered toward their fearless leader. "we will meet you outside the wood," he assured caiaphas with a grinding of his jaw; a single nod, and he had turned in the opposite direction.
splitting their scents was best to throw aside those who pursued them, and merrick began to run into the cold air, eyes half-closed, determination steeling his faltering gait. astara was near; she would not leave him; in her was home and in her was solace.

the howl that climbed the cold air roused a new hate in astara. she swore to remember that voice, that song -- and so help the bastard that routed them from their brief respite if she ever came across him.

a parting glance was given to merrick as she made to move; he would know to find her, and she would know to find him -- their paths were intersected, and their fates tied together. she feared not as she left the duo, taking care to leave her tracks evident. splitting three ways would likely confound their pursuers -- astara only hoped to come across one so she could sink fang into their hide in retribution.

but first... escape. she climbed a stony ridge bespotted with pine trees, and was quickly obscured among the pinefall.