Great Bear Wilderness pale touch

Predawn light lit the sky by the time he had left Moonspear behind him proper, and a low fog lingered in the fields where the forests no longer reached. Here the flood water had receded, leaving behind its detritus. It was a strewn mess that tangled with still tall stalks and grasses already bleached by waning light and falling temperatures. The season had changed and he wondered if it would be for the better—rather, he hoped it would be for the better.

It had been a quiet stretch of days since the most recent events along their borderland; his venturing out seemed a bit of a gamble but the necessity overrode it. He had longed to stretch his legs, knowing all too well that snows would blanket the mountain long before the valleys, and not much longer after that he knew they would stretch as far as the eye was willing to see. So he followed a muddied deer trail with no particular interest in the hunt as he did to see where it went; the fog would obscure them as it would he, and as it would from any company wanted or not.

A bird called off in the distance, and the world was tranquil.

Through the morning fog, a certain scruffy wolf found himself on a similar course, though he was so-far unaware of him gaining proximity to the stranger. His dark brown face lay leveled below his shoulders, verdant eyes concentrated mostly on the ground as he trotted- looking for visible tracks in the damp earth. He'd made a point to start keeping tabs on local herds, not only for his sake as a lone wolf but also out of general interest. To him, it was indispensable information regardless of the current need. 

So far his findings were positive. This land between the mounts wasn't void of plentiful prey at least not at the moment, thank the Gods. And there were plenty of wolves here as far as he could tell, another sign of abundance if he could surmise.

Speaking of other wolves, though.

The scent of another male mix mingled with the cervid scent he'd been pursuing. He froze where he was and lifted his gaze to survey. In the distance, he could see the silhouette of another not yet in focus. Could the other wolf see him? He wasn't sure, but he'd remain still and neutrally poised just in case.

The cut of a figure broke through the fog up ahead some time after, poised and paused. Dirge mirrored them; he could never be too sure what he would encounter in the world, though the wariness was not as prevalent in his features. Moonspear had not had the best of luck when it came to outsiders as of late, and even being here brought its own set of variables to the table.

He studied the figure for a length, as though from there he could ascertain intent or injury both. Even as perceptive as he was as a hunter, there was naught to tell, and his feet drew him a bit closer. His nose worked the air—it was damp, crisp even, and he could tell that they were alone. If others existed and this was some merry band that roved about, they were downwind of him and lost to the fog.

So it was confidence that he wore, his tail flagging gently as his steps halted once more.

“If this fog were any thicker, I may have had a mind to mistake you for something else,” he quipped.

The other was confident but not unfriendly thus far, he had no reason to change his impartial demeanor yet. Even when the larger man took steps toward him to see him clearer.

Oh? Henryk couldn't help but let out a humored chuff at his jest. I could see being mistaken for a small deer. Glad you noticed my wolfishness before I became a meal... 

Speaking of deer, though. He lifted his nose to sniff the air around them, and it seemed as if the remainder of deer presence was the only one that stuck out among the rest. To him at least, and aside from their own of course. I have a feeling we may be on the same trail.

Good, the wolf had a sensible sort of humor to him.

Of course, he hadn’t been hunting but why bother bringing up that topic to light; another able body would certainly levy the odds and maybe tip them in their favor, and to say that Dirge wasn’t interested in finding out what he could about the wayfarer would have been an obvious lie. As color seemed to bleed and streak into the sky, he could see that this was certainly their time to act and shine before the sun climbed over treetop. Both earthen in their design, no worse for wear…

Is that so? I could stand a bite to eat,” he confessed as though it were true. A knavish smile spread along his features loosely, but it was quick to depart to speak once more. “Fancy yourself a hunter then? You’re in a good company at any rate.”

Henryk gaped for a moment in thought before slowly nodding, knowingly. He was picking up what this man was putting down, indeed. Though his facial features didn't show much of his inner reaction, his tail twitched in excitement at the prospect.

He wasn't really all that hungry either- but he'd be a fool to turn down a good time.

I do fancy myself a hunter. He confirmed with the most subtle of smirks briefly ticking the edge of his maw. He assumed he need not ask the other wolf the same question. We shouldn't be too awful far from the source at this point. Due south-east I believe. We have an advantage if we reach it before the fog dissipates.

Even better, he was forthcoming with information; this appeased Dirge in more than one way. If they were successful in felling something worthwhile, he wasn’t so far off from Moonspear that he couldn’t rally others to take part in the aftermath, and obviously long after the stranger had departed his company. He would gladly take an easy option after many of the difficulties they had and his reply was swift and humored.

“Excellent,” he hummed, “lead the way.”

Nothing much to say after, but a simple curt nod to confirm. The hunt was officially on.

There was a pang of discomfort at being put at the helm with an unfamiliar, but it quickly gave way into the routine of his tracking. He didn't know much of anything about his hunting partner but surmised he at the very least had experience, so he assumed there wouldn't be much of a problem there. He simply had to shake the cobwebs off his teamwork abilities.

Until they arrived closer to their prey, however, he'd simply go on pretending the other male wasn't there at all. Nose to the ground, head low, and eyes peeled in front of him, paying careful attention to the wind's direction as they went.

After many minutes of silently stalking through the melancholy mist, Henryk came to a slow and sunk closer to the ground. In the far distance, there was the faintest of silhouettes lined by the dull morning light in the haze. A lone doe grazing, as far as he could tell. She must have strayed too far on her own, for whatever reason... He flashed an unspoken gaze the other male's way. How did they want to tackle this?

It was no time at all before they found their quarry—it was almost too good to be true. A lone doe rifling through the growth in the early morning fog; her body cut a familiar silhouette of grace. She was a tranquil thing, meek and mild, and unaware of the duo lurking just outside her purview.

He caught his companion’s gaze and met it with a wan smile, shuffling closer.

“I wonder if we could slink about to either side of her and seize her that way,” he murmured thoughtfully. Pinch her with no options but to run further away from her herd or straight towards it if things went badly, but he wanted to believe they could be more than just hungry predators with appetites whetted on a chance.

His gaze went back to the doe then.

“If we could do that, we could guide her further away from her kin. No doubt there’s a stag about… don’t care to find out how sharp his antlers have gotten. What say you? Any other ideas?” He was open to suggestion, keen to chase and prey as much as he was to assess how well this wayfarer handled himself. Winter was coming, after all.

He nodded in silent agreement, before uttering a murmured reply. I'd rather not be gored today, no... Timing will be of the essence. Too soon or in the wrong direction and she could spring towards home- or wherever a stag may be lurking. Our best bet is to send her in the direction we came from, we know that's clear. Not foolproof per se, but sensible he felt. If they could sneak ahead of her and drive her back towards the place they currently stood they ran less chance of being surprised by something. 

Their earthen pelts would each surely help them in blending into the autumnal grasses of the field, the fog would be on their side as well... So far, things looked favorable, but Henryk wouldn't catch himself being too cocky. 

If it's in agreement then... Let's move. I'll flank from the right, and signal when we strike. 

It was a reasonable plan of action to take, and he gave affirmation by way of a nod.

Wordlessly from there on, Dirge left their decision point to swing around to the left of the doe. His steps were swift and near silent as he worked his way through the thicker clots of wilting grasses, his eyes constantly shifting between prey and the forged path ahead. Though he took his time there was a certain urgency of wanting to get into position, to watch and wait for whatever minute signal he would find his companion to make.

Which above all things, he imagined would be him beginning the first leg of their hunt with an explosion of teeth emerging from what surroundings the deer had not trampled down. Even then that was provided that the doe was not as keen as her predators lurking. He had sunk low, belly to the ground while coiled and poised to watch her graze. His breath stilled and slowed; could she sense them?

They would soon find out.

Henryk too shoved off from their rendezvous spot and hunkered along the ground, giving the deer a wide berth as he passed it in a semi-circle to it's right. He moved slower than his comrade, waiting for him to get in position before he would follow suit moments after. At the same time and they risked her sensing their plan. Every time she paused from her grazing to look up- perhaps hearing a rustle from them here and there, he froze where he was and ceased his breath. Only to resume when she had bent her neck back down towards the ground.

But before he could get into position fully, her eyes shot up again. This time, directly onto his silhouette in the fog. The earthen man's blood ran frigid as he stood like a statue where he'd been moving prior, he knew she was staring right at his shape through the fog. Now every second was a gamble, one move could send her leaping in whatever direction she found fitting.

No time to further position himself. His eyes glanced towards his fellow, who was no doubt looking right at him waiting for the signal. It wasn't exactly how he wanted it, but that was part of being a hunter. Rolling with the punches.

He hoped it was quite obvious that he sought Dirge's attention in this fragile moment. He quite deliberately flicked both of his ears back, hoping that it would be a signal enough. The doe saw him, but it didn't seem to see the lighter of them. Dirge would have to spring first. 

The doe flicked to life suddenly—something had set her off.

A hard line akin to a frown smeared itself onto his features. He didn’t like it, not one bit. Long seconds passed, but the doe did not resume her grazing. She stayed wary, perhaps shifting a step or two in her preferred direction. Was it towards perceived safety? Or was she simply weighing her options much in the way he was, still hunkered down with naught more than a veil of withering weeds and grasses to keep him obscured.

Her ear flickered, but she did not raise an alarm yet. Probably decided it was a useless ploy; she’d no doubt realized the error she had made by going astray, not quite realizing that she was nearly pinched between two wolves who had clearly pushed their luck. He couldn’t see his companion for her, but he knew any hope for a signal had perished the moment she had taken sense that all was not well.

When it came to hunting, Dirge held fast to patience. He could draw out the moments, watch with due diligence for the opportunity to present itself… which in this case was the doe just easing a bit. Not quite relaxing, but definitely not all that aware that he lurked just behind and out of reach of her awareness. Her ears swiveled too much for his liking. But the moment would come, predator and prey collectively sweating it out.

And the moment, when it did come at last, was the precise time that he sprang to spurn her along. Change of plans—he knew he couldn’t spin her around to the direction they needed her to go alone and only hoped that his companion would see the path to do so and take action. Dirge let his jaws snap and click together menacingly at her ankles and her fearful cries broke the tranquility that the scene once held.

And now things were moving quickly. Green eyes sharpened like knives as the other wolf sprung from the grasses to launch an assault on the doe's legs. No doubt she was shocked, and she responded by leaping the opposite of the intended direction.

No! He'd not let that happen if he could help it. Pivoting on his feet he flung himself ahead of her path, and thankfully she chose to hesitate rather than barrel into his own open jaws. It would take a moment, but if his friend moved with the same calculation as he, they'd have her aimed in the correct destination in no time, Henryk was confident. For the moment he took advantage of her initial shock, zig-zagging back and forth to disorient her and flashing his pearly teeth. All the while working to dodge her limbs kicking in panic.

Finally, she sprang away from the onslaught in the direction which they'd come. He only flashed a momentary glance to Dirge before lunging toward her- the chase was on!

It was a mess of moving bodies and flailing limbs; the snap of teeth and hoofbeats against the dry earth. Dirge found himself able to keep tabs on where the doe was going as much as he was able to see what his companion was doing. They seemed to mesh well with one another, reading the subtle shifts in the terrain and the doe’s frantic actions to guide her further away from her destination and more towards where they wanted her to go.

It wasn’t easy work, but it was manageable—she finally veered in the direction that they wanted her to go and Dirge let her spring ahead with some haste. Let her tire herself, let her gambol into the uncharted territory that did not contain relative safety. This would give him the opportunity to watch his fellow work now that the chase was on, and the pair could stay out of the range of her kicks and bucks to throw them further off.

A brief smile plastered itself across his maw as they ran on, only to morph into a snarl as he moved to snap after her again, to spur her on and weary whatever resolve she thought she still had against them. He hadn’t seen a good opening to try and take her down and with just the two of them, acting too soon would spell disaster in their endeavor.

His tongue lolled as he ran, adrenaline coursing through him with the excitement of the chase and the danger of the flailing limbs as he felt the air of them kicking so close to his maw. He was by no means a seeker of danger, but there was an undeniable thrill associated with the act of the hunt that had his heart pumping in the most carnal pleasure. He and his pal were working well in sync with each other, which brought another sense of pleasant success to their chase, even if it was to last for as long as it took for the doe to slow down.

But they were wolves, built for endurance in their very nature, and his legs were long and spry. The doe would surely tire before himself.

And tire she did, faltering in her movements after countless minutes of running, Henryk caught it and seized the opportunity to grab her leg in his jaws. Her gleet of terror shot through the fog that was now beginning to lift in the sun, tasting the irony tang of blood in his maw as his teeth tore the thin skin of the doe's hock. He clamped to damage as much as he could within the short span of a few seconds, releasing and leaping back before either that leg could jerk or the other one would surely attempt to knock him in the face.

The fog curled around them as they charged across the open span of ground; the timberline was beginning to rise up and grow as they neared the dense wood ahead. It was then that Dirge saw his companion seize the doe’s leg in a classic manner—latch and release, the break of skin and cry of pain mixing with rediscovered horror. To another of her ilk it would have been a sorrowful occasion to know what was happening, but to the wolves that always seemed hungry her cry was a motivator.

He grabbed at her flank from the opposite side—another cry.

He grabbed again, this time at her side to rend flesh from muscle ever so slightly. She staggered and swerved, bucking at the wolves in pain and out of desperation. A final stand that would leave her slowed and confused; the taste of her blood on his tongue awoke many things in him as though it was the first time all over again, and hunger gnawed where it did not before.

Long legs drew him beside her where this time Dirge chose to crash into her with a timed leap to set her off balance. He knew without entirely knowing that this was the beginning of her end, that her undoing would come push and pincer between he and his hunting partner. Whether she toppled and eventually tumbled to bleed did not matter, they would have her soon.

His teeth clicked in his maw- anticipating his next strike with a feral excitement. Lips were already drawn back in preparation, tongue pulling back as he watched his comrade slam into the doe and cause it to fumble. That was all he needed to seize the moment.

With a zig-zagging motion he lunged for her head hanging low as she tried to right her balance, for only a moment clamping onto her neck and yanking on whatever he could manage to. Not the jugular quite yet, but enough to make her bleed in yet another area- a sensitive one at that. Desperate hooves flew out and just barely grazed his flank, sending some of his hairs into the wind. Had he not been in the heat of it he'd have winced at the shrill sting it'd left on his side. He'd feel it later like an annoying papercut, but for now the only mental note he made was that that was too close.

Henryk sprung further away this time and observed, now able to trot alongside the doe with how much she'd slowed. Blood trickled from both the wound on her neck and flank, her mouth and eyes were open wide and rapidly glancing between each of them and the land in front of her. How easy it'd be to outrun them... If only she could.

He could sense that the final throws of survival were around the bend. The doe would turn on them in a last-ditch effort to fight for her life, maybe, if she proved to have the will to. A dangerous stage of the hunt, but it was still all in a similar manner as the rest of it- patience was key. They would circle her until she lost her will to fight, with the two of them one could easily distract her kicks while the other attacked from the opposite side.

Head on, the doe almost seemed bug-eyed about her situation. They had her cornered in a sense, caught in an endless circle that almost seemed more feline than canine. She couldn’t go forward though she tried, just as she tried to pace back away from them. Her steps were uneven, limping, and her cries went unheeded by any stag that could have come in to try and save the day. Not even her own kin would seek her out now; they knew those calls however distantly carried on the wind. They were the calls of the soon departing, and there was naught they could do.

His patience wore thin here. He tired of waiting for her to simply give in when she seemed adamant in standing upright still, too tenacious to simply accept the fact that her end was exceptionally close. They could snap at her and hold her in a small range all they wanted, but he could smell her blood in the air and still tasted the faintest tinge of delicate flesh. Dirge lunged for her at last, grasping tightly the skin between neck and shoulder to pull her downward. He could hold her long enough now that she lacked the strength to fight him off fully, and this would be her undoing at the jaws of his companion.

The moment had finally arrived, his fellow wolf grasped a mouthful of the flesh between her neck and shoulder and hunkered her down- leaving her already bloodied throat fair game for him to finish off. And finish off he did, lunging forward and wrapping his jaws around her neck, crushing with all his might and freely letting his teeth do whatever damage came from her vain attempts to struggle. 

It didn't take long for her to succumb, already exhausted by them and now having had much of her life bleed out- she finally slumped to the ground. Only after he felt the pulse under his tongue cease did he release his grip, licking the iron-tasting liquid that painted his lips. His expression was still furrowed slightly but ultimately back to its usual casualness.

Yellow-green eyes met with the larger male's once it was all said and done, smirking as he caught his breath. Well done.

The final bloodshed came and went just as quickly as the hunt had began; her blood pooled out to soak into the eager ground as they both composed themselves. Even with a lolling tongue, Dirge found an appeased smile come to him. He hadn’t come out there to hunt but it was a job well done all the same and his hunger would soon be as vanquished as their prey.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” came his amused rejoinder. “A shame you belong to the wilderness, I could always use another good hunter in my pack.” Someone that might have introduced a little more friendly competition and companionship to his yearlings. Another teacher who clearly understood the aspects of reading even the most minute of details and would act upon them.

“I’ll let you take your spoils first, you’ve earned it,” he went on, smearing blood with his tongue across his muzzle. Better to let the wanderer have his fill, because whatever he did not take or eat Dirge intended to rally his pack for. The doe’s body would not go to waste—the wolves of Moonspear would surely pick it clean for all it was worth. And a job well done certainly earned a kindness.

An ear flicks back for a moment in thought. Ah! He was indeed a pack wolf, but the way he said that... His pack. Was this man an alpha of some sort? Either way, his complement filled Henryk with a rare sense of pride. He simply smiled and nodded in agreement to his terms. A pack would need the kill much more than he did- so he would seek out only a small section for himself.

What is the name of your pack? Perhaps I'll keep it in mind. Henryk questioned before loping towards the flank to chew off a quick morsel. Once he'd dislodged the still-warmed flesh from the body he turned back to him, tail politely waving behind him.

My name's Henryk. By the way.

Henryk—interesting. It was a plain name and yet it suited the wolf very well, which was a lot to say given some of the names Dirge had encountered over the years both in travel and as a greeter along what had become his borders. It was a name he would remember, at least for a long spell; he had his doubts that they would cross paths again unless Henryk turned up at Moonspear itself, but such was the way of the world.

“I’m Dirge,” he said, “from Moonspear.” His head turned away from the wolf and their quarry to gesture at the looming mountains, however shrouded in early light and fog they were. “We’re situated on the mountain there, the tallest peak of the bunch. This isn’t our usual locale for hunting but I felt like something for a change.” The glen had proven to be hazardous too many times for his liking lately, though he had scoured it a time or two in the recent past.

“I would say that you should keep it in mind with winter coming, but I’ve never been one to dissuade someone of their wanderlust,” he went on as his gaze came back to Henryk, a thin smile resting on his features. “Have you traveled long? There’s plenty to see here and beyond, whether you go north or south.”

His vibrant green gaze followed Dirge's gesture to the mountains, lifting his head as he looked to them in thought. He'd definitely been close to it on Casseopeia's View, the closest thing he could call his home base at the moment. When his eyes drifted back down, he smiled thankfully to his hunting companion, especially when he mentioned his wanderlust.

I've been thinking about it, heh. But it's hard to let go of being a loner. Admittedly, although he was thus far unaware of the sign that would come to him in the following days- that would persuade him to change his tune.

But... Thank you. I will keep Moonspear in mind. Who knows? Maybe one day we'll hunt together again... I still have much of this land to explore though, I do come from very far away. No need be anything but vague there.

One day, but until then. Again... Thank you for the hunt, friend. You should rally your pack while the meat's still hot, they'll be delighted. He mused with an awkward grin, his section of meat dangling from his jaws- before dipping his head and turning to take his leave. He wished he had more time to stick around, but he wouldn't keep a pack waiting for their meal.

“That’s the intention,” he said with a smile—he would rally the others soon. “I do appreciate your help as well. The wilderness here is very vast and enchanting, but it is rewarding too.” He knew and spoke from experience; he had spent a great deal of his life now becoming familiar with all it had to offer.

While he knew many paths innately as a wild creature would, there would always be more things to discover as time went on. There were many things in the lands beyond that would intrigue him too, though he did not know when he would venture out to see them again.

“I hope you have safe travels,” he went on then, dipping his head. Henryk would be granted his opportunity to escape and resume his venture, wherever it took him.

And when Henryk had retired from the area, he summoned the wolves of the mountain.