Haunted Wood Run Me Like a Racehorse

for Kingslend wolves/forming! Hunter thread!

The words of his kings still remained fresh within his mind. The young hunter had never been so livid before in his life, yet every day a new trial arose. First, he had been forced from his home, flames claimed his kin, and now the banishment of tradition. It simply wouldn't do. Calhoun was always one to do whatever it takes to please the High Elk, and just because his leaders claimed otherwise, he would not falter. Traditions aside, the wolves of Kingslend still had to live. That meant shelter and food.

Cenric claimed these woods would act as a temporary base and just as he had said at the meeting, he would see to filling some caches. Hunting was something that never changed, it was comforting and right within his element. So, with no time wasted, the brazen wolf slunk through the dark woods, his nose lowered as he searched for something suitable to perish in the name of the High Elk.

Having taken it upon himself to rove a bit further in search of the missing Neverwinter child, Bronco continued to follow his instincts, which led him to believe that if Asmoses was anywhere, he'd likely be in a Forest. He roamed beyond the Caldera, though he stopped by to catch a glimpse of the place that the redhawks had once called him just to see if it said anything to him...And it seemed that other wolves might have begun to claim the area, so he ended up abandoning that little soul search. Onward he went, drawn by the dark treeline near the horizon, and began to search through the wooded land- though here, too, felt as though he'd wandered into a nest of wolves, with the scents that led throughout the forest. Were they claiming the area or simply taking shelter there?

He wasn't sure, so he remained alert, watching for any sign that he might be approached and deemed unwelcome. As far as he knew, the Saints did not live in a forest but in a canyon- and felt he might be far enough from them to be safe. He could smell deer, though- and found himself salivating slightly. Deer would make for a wonderful meal- and so he began to track as well, until he found himself hot on the trail of another wolf. He was out of sight still, but no doubt he'd wandered this way only moments ago. In the darkness of the woods, it was tough to spot another wolf with the small dapples of sunlight that trickled through the leaves and tricked his eyes.

As the hunter moved through the forest, he too followed the scent of deer, temporarily unaware of his distant follower. Calhoun paused to decipher between two scent paths when his ear flicked, the sound of footfall growing near. The sound was faint but soft in a way unlike hooves causing him to temporarily abandon his quarry. Perhaps one of his fellow Kingslend had a similar idea, as long as it was not the scorned pelt of grey Cal would gladly take a hunting comrade. 

The Déorwine turned, intent on meeting the other halfway when their scent finally reached his nose. It was a stranger. Who travels here? He had yet to land his red gaze on the intruder, voice loud and stern, yet not outwardly aggressive. He couldn't entirely blame the other. Their claim was still new, but that would not excuse the fact that their trespassing must be addressed.

Bronco froze when he was addressed- and it took him a moment to realize that perhaps he too hadn't been spotted. He squinted and gazed through the shadowy forest, but with the intermittent beam of sunlight and spattering of shrubbery, he found it difficult to pick out a wolf against the dark browns of the trees and fading greens of the leaves. He thought he saw a flicker of movement in the light to his left, and so he drew forward a few paces until he could see only a shard of the wolf's visage, lit by a streak of light while the rest of him was cloaked in darkness. Regardless, there was a stern tone to his voice, and a steady readiness to his gaze that cued Bronco to bow his head in a respectful greeting. 

"Bronco Blackthorn, of Moonspear," He responded dutifully. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you- I must've gotten distracted by the scent of deer," He apologized earnestly, humbly and somewhat sheepishly offering a gentle wag of his tail to show his submission as it hung at his hocks.

A pause stretched from his words as his gaze silently swept until a voice returned his call. It was then that he was able to hone in on the shape near by. Quick to turn in pursuit, Calhoun would approach this "Blackthorn" as he offered an apology. The name rang no bells, nor did it truly matter to him. Only one family name mattered and that was his own.

I am not disturbed, though these lands are now claimed by the Déorwine family, albeit temporary, Bronco Blackthorn. The name felt strange on his lips, though he'd at least try to swallow his overflowing pride. After all, this man might not be his family, but he was better than the one Clenes had strung along. Familiar warm hues covered the other, the same as those touched by the High Elk.

It seemed that the pair had fallen upon the same scent path, a deer lingering nearby. Maybe this was a blessing from his God in disguise. As great of a hunter as he was, it still took more than one to succeed in taking down large prey. Red eyes gave the other a quick once over before deciding that he was fit enough to assist. You're a hunter? I can find it in me to forgive you should you aid me in my hunt.

Perhaps he would even send the other off with a portion of his own though he quickly found himself questioning the train of thoughts. Maybe this "acceptance" of the Kings new laws had seeped deeper than intended. An issue for later.

"The Déorwine Family?" He asked, slightly enchanted by the elegance of the name. Apologetically, though, he was quick to humbly give the male a bow of his head. While the pack had apparently claimed the area temporarily, he knew how unsettling it was, nonetheless, to have a trespasser in their midst. Especially ones who carried themselves with the grace of nobility, as the red-eyed male did. "I apologize; I should have been paying more attention to my bearings," He said. He'd been this way before and none had stopped him- but he assumed that the Déorwines were new to the area, or that they had perhaps been smaller in numbers the last time he'd been through. Whatever the story was, though, they were here now- and he would relay that information to his pack so no others made the same fumble. 

It seemed that forgiveness was possible, though, should he be fit enough to prove himself. "I am," He said. "An' I love a good deer hunt," He admitted, licking his lips, though he told himself not to get too excited about a potential meal. As this was claimed land, he could very likely be ousted as soon as a kill was made...But, if he did well enough, perhaps the Déorwine male might show him some mercy, and at least let him grab a bite to eat. He bobbed his head, indicating a subservient nature, and that Calhoun could take the lead, as this was his turf.

Much to no one's surprise, the other fellow knew nothing of his family. Calhoun suppressed his sigh knowing it wasn't Bronco's fault, but it was disappointing. Yes, those blessed by the High Elk gain our family name. If you are interested I can inform you later as it seems his grace has already valued you and your family. Of course his comment referred to the other's woody colors, but he was sure that too would fly over the other's head. At least he had the right of mind to apologize, that was more than even his family could do at times.

Your help will be much appreciated. and with that, he turned back to the scent trail he had been following. He knew he needn't tell the other to follow, Bronco would or he would run in which case he was back to square one and their intruder would be dealt with.

It wouldn't take long for them to approach a small herd. It seemed that luck was in their favor as any grouping larger would be difficult to split with just two hunters. The male crouched amongst the thick foliage, his eyes scanning for the best pick before casting a side glance to Bronco to see if he had picked out any useful details.

While there was something in Calhoun's tone that Bronco perceived as being reluctance, he didn't note the male's tone as being condescending. Being a humble, eager-to-please pupil definitely played into his favour here, where normally a larger ego might have been offended by the way he was being spoken to. But Bronco was quite willing to admit his ignorance, so long as he should learn something from the experience and from what he gathered from the somewhat cryptic message that the Déorwines were a family...One white quite a lot of dignity, and that their leader, the High Elk, made most of the decisions. He supposed, then, that Calhoun was likely one of those close to this High Elk- as it seemed he might have some sway in putting in a good word for Bronco. "Oh, uh, that's very kind of you, Mr. Déorwine, sir," He said. He didn't see why he should be favoured by the High Elk- and the comment about being blessed indeed whistled through the air between his eartips- but he found it a confidence boost to know he'd made a good impression. He knew it was an offer he would have to decline but it seemed that now was the time to hunt, and the talking could happen later. They'd likely have more success anyway, if he simply held off on telling Calhoun that he was already dedicated to a pack.

He was quick to follow Calhoun and lower his head to begin tracking alongside him, keeping a few steps back so that he was at the male's beige flank, nose twitching as the scent of deer became stronger and stronger. He felt his stomach gurgle readily as he raised his head, testing the scents that lingered now on the air as they closed in. A small herd became visible and he drew closer to Calhoun so that they might move as one tawny shadow. He gazed from one creature to the next, taking into consideration that there were only two wolves to perform the hunt. He was the sort who figured it was best to play it safe- and found his gaze drawn to what looked like a young deer, likely one that had been birthed in the spring and had grown into a gawky young adult, with no more spots and long, gangly legs. He followed it as it moved with his whiskey gaze, before he glanced to Calhoun hopefully.

As expected, Bronco came along quietly. They moved as one as they eventually melded into the shadows. The boy's gaze followed a younger one, the glint that followed all to knowing for Cal to know he had picked a target. Normally he would protest killing the young so that they could replenish the herd's numbers, but this was but a temporary location for Kingslend. They would not be picking from this herd's numbers long enough for it to harm the health of their lineage in the long run.

With a nod, the hunter moved swiftly. Emerging from the undergrowth, Calhoun sped forward intent on driving a wedge between the young and adults. Once he was near a rumble hit his chest as he began barking up a storm, teeth snapping at the adults to startle them into running hopefully away from the kid. As the herd slowly came to life and turned there was a moment in which the child scampered the opposite direction. It was the opening they needed and one he hoped Bronco had been ready to take advantage of.

The male's crimson gaze seemed locked onto the same target, so when he moved, Bronco moved with him. Stealing behind him like an amber shadow, Bronco sped along in Calhoun's tracks so that their approach would be like an arrow, keen on slicing into the herd with deadly accuracy. The young one they needed to flush moved away from them as the herd balked, and then scattered- and as Calhoun drove into the herd's midst,  Bronco lunged to his side and began to put pressure on the young deer, forcing it away from the others while Calhoun managed the herd. 

He snapped at its heels and anticipated the movements it made as he lunged time and time again to return to its own kind. Whenever it attempted to steer them back toward the herd it was met with snapping fangs which would harry it in the opposite direction, widening the gap between them and the herd. Bronco had the young, bleating deer isolated from the herd, and began to set about snapping at its heels which flashed toward him with sharp kicks. Eventually he caught hold, causing the young deer to trip and strain the muscles in that leg, which now created a limp, slowing it down. Bronco too slowd his pace- willing to wait for his companion to return so they could safely hinder and kill the deer together.

Calhoun continued to keep up his commotion, pleased to see the other follow into action as he slowly widened the gap between their prey and it's family. His focus would remain on the group before him knowing one slip up and they could turn on him, he needed to stay in control before they realized they could overpower him. Bronco and their target were kept in the corner of his vision the entire time and once the boy lunged slowing their prey, he'd turn tail to help.

They had their break, the herd too busy fleeing to realize he had given up his chase as paws thundered against the ground to hurl his body at the young deer. The hunter bore his fangs, seeking purchase at the vulnerable spots near its shoulder. With one final push against the ground, Calhoun closed the gap that was left as teeth easily sliced into the other's flesh finding a solid hold to attempt to drag the deer to the ground.

The doe which had split from the herd now carried on, beleaguered and the realization that her life was now in peril began to dawn on her. The whites of her eyes showed and she made a more concentrated effort to split from him and head back toward the herd- but her herdmates had already fled the area, and she was left, bleating and bleeding, alone in the company of wolves. Bronco maintained the pressure he needed to keep her isolated and like a falcon swooping in on its prey, Calhoun emerged form his chase and shouldered the doe, catching a hold of her shoulder. His weight would be enough to in the very least knock the doe off balance, if not drag her to the ground- and with tis neck lowered it left itself vulnerable for the final move. Bronco was happy to oblige in the process of dispatching the doe. 

He would respect the Déorwine male and his claim to the deer, but felt thrilled having made another successful hunt, especially considering he'd completed it with someone who was almost a stranger. He minded his manners, would take what he was offered as a reward, and make a mental note as he headed back to the mountain- that the Déorwines were capable hunters, regal creatures, and inhabiting the woodlands.

Bodies collided and the next thing the hunter knew he had pinned the doe to the ground. It struggled for it's life, but Bronco was quick to end it with a swift bite to its jugular. There would be no pain, there would be no struggle. Once it had perished, Calhoun let up and while the other seemed to be eager to leave their territory (something he too wished) he'd allow the other to take a leg before retreating. Unlike some of the other outsiders he had come across in these new lands, this boy had manners and he did provide for an excellent hunt. Once he was sent on his way, Cal would take up the task of dragging the new meal further into their territory and would dig a cache.