Swiftcurrent Creek little puppet made of pine.

Fig’s hackles stood tall as he stalked away from the borders of Emberwood. He was following a trail that he’d caught within the territory. It wasn’t a welcome one, so while he was pleased to find it leading out and away, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was certain the creature had gone far, far away.

He hadn’t called to let Bronco or Fenn know he was going. He was concerned the creature might still be nearby and hear him. He didn’t want to lose it. Fig didn’t think he’d go too far though, or be gone too long. And so he was startled to find the Sun was beginning to set. He paused briefly, considering for the first time that he might need to turn back. But the moment passed, he was close, and he wasn’t turning back until this was done.

River was following a much different lead than her acquaintance -- a rumor, more or less, about the ailing herds of the taiga. She was eager to see them herself, not because she didn't think it was true, but because she saw it as an opportunity to learn. Her sheer morbid curiosity drew her here, from along the rime-licked edges of the lake, down to the rushing waters of the creek.

Chasing such frivolity was all she could do to keep her mind steady.

The churn of the tributary died down as she prowled further through the woods, and her senses became clearer, allowing her to notice that she was passing over the recent trail of someone familiar. This place was full of familiar things, it seemed, and River welcomed any distraction, any emotion, other than her despair.

When she saw the dark wolf ahead of her, she could not tell right away that it was Figment at a distance. She did not know him at the sight of his stalk, but it quickly became a series of images seared into her brain. After staring for a while and turning the scent over in her head, she remembered the boy and the bird.

She wanted to call out to him, but disturbing his focus seemed wrong. Instead, she turned her gaze to whatever lie beyond him, trying to discern what it was he so intently tracked.

Fig was focused intensely on his hunt, but not so focused that he wasn't aware of what was happening around him. His steps slowed when he first sensed her presence--initially nothing more than just a feeling that he was being watched. But then, other clues arose, until suddenly he was swinging around to spy her watching him. His teeth were bared when he turned to her, but his expression shifted abruptly into one of surprise.

He knew her.

Of this, Figment was certain, but it wasn't immediately clear to him how he knew her. A memory nagged at the corner of his mind, but he couldn't drag it into view. He frowned as he tried to remember, but the seconds ticked by until he finally remembered that he had no time to try and remember. He was on a mission.

He glanced back in the direction he'd been heading, then once again at her. With a jerk of his muzzle, he motioned for her to move, but in the opposite direction. He knew it would seem rude, and while that bothered him deeply, it would've been far worse to involve her in what he was doing. He could only hope the apologetic, concerned expression on his face told her as much as he turned and continued on.

As River predicted, he responded viscerally to her presence, turning towards her with teeth flashing and hackles raised. Every muscle in her body tensed, but she did not react except to avert her gaze from the killing glare he gave her. He looked to be a far cry from the boy she had met what felt like a lifetime ago, and now she would always be aware of the fact that he could be as fearsome as he could be sweet.

When she looked up again, he had stilled. There seemed to be some recognition in his eyes, but River couldn't be sure at this distance. Either way, she was relieved to know he hadn't simply turned into some rabid dog and was in fact pursuing something very dangerous. It was clear in the way he motioned for her to leave.

She gave an indignant snort as he turned to continue his hunt.

Then, she followed him out of spite.

And if asked, she already planned to say it was because she was "concerned."

Figment isn’t gone too far before he realized he was being followed. He slowed to a stop and peered backwards over his shoulder, watching anxiously as she came up to him. He huffed and gave his coat a shake to relieve some of his tension. When he leaned close to her, it wasn’t to ask her to go. He’d grown up with Fennec—he knew better than to try and convince a woman to change her mind when she was clearly in a contrary mood.

”I’m on my way to have a talk with a Wolverine,” Fig informed her, the urgency of the situation causing him to forgo any pleasantries, ”If you want to keep playing follow the leader with me, you might get caught up in the conversation. Fair warning.” He turned and set off again, fully expecting her to continue trailing after him in spite of the warning.

Catching up to the hunter's prowl, River had scented the trail he followed, and her nose stung with the pungent smell of a predatory mustelid as she came to crouch beside him. Her ears twitched at his hushed warning, her suspicions confirmed, but she was not one to turn down a challenge. Besides this, she had already made up her mind to accompany Figment, regardless of what he had been pursuing. The name of their target only made her more sure of the choice.

I'm with you, she whispered, taking a firm position at his flank and smoothly matching his pace. She cast the silver lights of her eyes onto the brush around them, and when the scent began to strengthen, the dark pall of a killing mood befell her, enshrouding the she-wolf with a steeled expression. River readied herself for a bloody affair.

Fig had anticipated that she’d continue to follow him, but still he found himself wondering why. The memory of her had come back to him now—he was trying to convince a bird to come home with him to befriend Fenn and she had caught him at it. He’d been embarrassed, she amused. Perhaps she wanted to see him humiliate himself in front of her again? Rather high stakes this time, though…

He was going to ask, but he stopped dead in his tracks. It was there. Just ahead. He could hear it grunting and growling to itself as it feasted on something. He could smell blood and hear bones crunching. Fig hesitated, wondering if perhaps this was actually unnecessary. What if he got them both killed? Or horribly injured? But what if they left it alone and it came back to Emberwood. What if his sister had pups the next time it came.

Fig glanced over at his companion, giving her one last chance to back out, ”You’re sure?”

A chink in Figment's resolve appeared. For whatever reason, he hesitated now, with their target in view, when before there had been nothing but dogged determination. River bristled with anticipation beside him. The wolverine was unaware and primed for the two of them. Their best tactic would be to strike fast, strike hard, and strike now. What was the hold up?

When he looked back at her again, concern brimming in his apple-green eyes, she suddenly felt that she was the reason he held back. Her mere presence had given him second thoughts about the assault, and though a part of her was flattered at the thought of his regard for her well-being, it was such a small part that the sentiment would go unnoticed until reflecting on it later. All she felt in that moment was insulted.

She was loathe to take her eyes off their mark, even as he asked if she was sure.

River met his gaze intently, for the slimmest moment, and gave him a single, firm nod. Her eyes were back on the wolverine the next instant. And she would not give Figment another second to reconsider his position, for she streaked forward without warning -- jaws wide and aiming for the large creature's haunches. The startled beast, caught completely offguard, turned towards them in furious surprise.

Fig saw the determination in her eyes and once again had to wonder at it. Why was she so invested in this? He felt oddly touched, but he had no time to really consider the emotion. He saw the small nod, felt the fire in her gaze, and then she was off without a word.

The Redhawk was shocked, but he pulled himself together quickly and so was only half a second behind her. He pivoted around her as she went for the beast's haunches and dove for its shoulder. His teeth tore into muscle, near solid as stone. The burly predator roared and swung its head about, seeking a target with its iron jaws. Fig danced out of its reach best as he could without letting go of his grip, but from somewhere came claws that raked against his leg and he stumbled.

Chaos erupted as the two wolves besieged the unsuspecting wolverine, and a bitter cacophony filled the air -- all three of them gnashing, snarling, scraping. They all fought for different reasons. The ambushed, of course, fought for its own life. Figment, noble at every opportunity, fought to protect something he loved. And River... She fought to keep it all at bay.

There was no thinking in killing. No time for much reflection or reform. It was simply do or die, and she had no intention of dying that day.

That being said, the wolverine by far had the most compelling reason to win this fight or escape it. The creature surely tried both. River had missed her mark by a hair, only managing to graze the assaulted beast's thigh as it swung its hindquarters away and batted at them with a leonine might. Figment's attack was much more successful, but it had put him directly in harm's way, and River saw him buckle from a swipe.

Without thinking, she threw herself down onto the predator's back and clamped down hard on its nape. The fur and skin was so thick there, that she wasn't even sure she was hurting it, but she certainly had its attention. The two of them slammed sideways into the dirt; River holding on tightly, while the wolverine twisted its weasely body to draw blood from her with its hindlegs.

Fig clung tightly to the beast's shoulder, even after the sharp sting of its claws against his leg. He felt warm, wet running down towards his toes, but he ignored it. He cared about his own safety only in as far as knowing he needed to stay alive in order to protect others. His friends. His family. But most of all in that very moment, River.

The wolverine twisted as she made a daring lunge onto its back. It tugged him along as it moved, and though he could've held on, he did know when to let go. He jerked his head back and forth before letting go, tearing into its flesh just before he released his grip. He heard the creature roar in rage and pain, but it knew which of the wolves posed a greater threat to it and it knew not to take its attention from her. Which simply meant that Fig needed to become the greater threat.

He saw the wolverine reach for River with snapping jaws as it rolled. Figment fell back for a moment, then threw himself at it again, this time aiming for its neck. He missed his target, but managed to dig his canines into the space just beneath the corner of its jaw. He clung to the back of its neck now and jerked backwards, trying to pull its head away from River and give her an opening to get at its jugular.

Slowly, slowly, the wolverine was pulling itself out of River's grip, and no matter how hard she tried to keep her jaws clamped down on its nape, her position felt weaker and weaker as the seconds ticked on. Her hip burned beneath a scoring of the mustelid's claws as they raked her, using the new leverage to turn its body almost completely around.

She could see its wet, stinking jaws opening wide to maul the side of her face, and she knew that if she let go, the teeth would only reach her faster.

The building pressure was relieved in that moment, and she saw Figment's dark muzzle pulling back the beast's head, leaving its neck exposed. The huntress did not hesitate. She released the scruff and craned her entire body to dole a merciless bite to the wolverine's jugular. Hot, panic-driven blood sprayed across her face, temporarily blinding her, but River did not let go until the writhing body had given out completely.

She dropped the carcass with a gasp and pulled the remainder of her limbs from under the limp body. Fuck, she hooted, giving herself an intense shake that sent flecks of blood flying. These things are much stronger than they look. I thought I was about to lose an eye. Oh, the irony. Thanks for keeping my face intact.

Fig's jaw and neck began to ache from the effort of holding onto the creature. It took all of his strength to fight against its thrashing and keep its teeth away from River. When she dove in for the kill, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He fought harder than ever to keep it from harming her, only relaxing when it finally went still.

He released the creature and dropped back onto his haunches, panting heavily as his body trembled. His eyes leapt straight to River, searching her to see if she was alright. Her words and actions certainly seemed to suggest she was, but his brow was still furrowed with concern as she spoke. "Just paying it forward," he responded, "Are you alright?" He resisted the urge to get all up in her business to see for himself, but only just.

A sensation of unbidden warmth flooded through River as she saw the way Figment looked at her. It made her nervous, confused, and excited all at once; she had to avert her eyes to keep herself steady, though remained hyper-aware of his gaze worriedly searching her.

I'm alright, she breathed, trying not to think of the plight she had inserted herself in. As the adrenaline ebbed, she felt a stinging drip at the crux of her hip, where the wolverine had marked her with its hindclaws. It had all seemed like a good idea at the time, but the recklessness did nothing but fill her with regret after the fact. Things could have gone much worse.

She looked back at Figment, silvered eyes falling to his injured foreleg. Are you? River stepped closer, bowing her head to sniff at the wound. Lightly, she drew her tongue over a swathe of dark, mussed fur just above the wound, testing his openness to her touch. A soft whine escaped her. I can't believe you were hunting that thing on your own, she murmured.

She claimed to be alright, though Fig noted something odd in her regard of him. It was there for only a moment, but it was enough to bring a new layer to his concern. Was she upset with him? Did she feel he had forced her into this endeavor? He’d given her every chance to leave, but perhaps he had still misstepped somehow, and now she had an injury to remind her of her resentment towards him.

The thought was inexplicably crushing. But it was gone from his mind at her next words and at her touch, the latter of which sent a jolt through his bloodstream. He held still for a moment, but then accepted her actions as an invitation for his own. He nose danced lightly along her neck, inspecting her for wounds just as she did him. He leaned back after a moment to take another look at her, his eyes falling on the blood that stained her hip.

”My family is trying to claim territory North of here,” Fig explained, ”I’ve been catching its scent here and there for a while. I kept thinking it was gone, but it kept coming back. My sister may have another litter in the Spring. They wouldn’t be safe with that creature around.” Fig eyed the dead wolverine with a mix of pity and guilt. Had it never come back, it never would’ve needed to die. He did not regret the decision, only that circumstance had forced him to make it.


He turned his gaze back to River thoughtfully. ”Why did you decide to get involved?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him, ”Not that I’m ungrateful. I’d probably be down to only three legs if it weren’t for you.” He smiled a little, but his eyes were pensive.

When he did not pull away from her, River set to tending the fringes of his injury before taking a few tender rasps over the wounds themselves, cleaning the dirt from his foreleg. It seemed she had done this enough times to be proficient at it, though this was probably the extent of her medical training. Meanwhile, her guard hairs quivered beneath his investigative nose.

She listened to him but mainly focused on the tone of his voice, attentive to his emotions more so than the actual content of his explanation. She heard his anxiety and his relief. She heard his protectiveness, too, and suddenly it made her wonder if there was room in him to care for anyone other than his sister. Even himself.

She scolded the jealousy as soon as it rose up in her thoughts. It was easy to want that kind of devotion for oneself, no matter how unfair it would be to anyone else.

That tracks. Still being a stellar brother, I see, River commended him, straightening up. She followed his gaze to the dead wolverine, inwardly vowing to never fight another one unless it was absolutely necessary. Her eyes flickered back to Figment's face as he probed for own reason for joining in; she looked back toward their dead adversary in an effort to guard her expression.

Her ear twitched. It was hard not to. Though not the whole truth, it was part of it. The part that mattered, she supposed. I just saw you and I knew... I knew I wanted to know what you were doing and that I wanted to do it with you, whatever it was. She shrugged, looking up at him again. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, though I probably wouldn't be as gung-ho about it now that I know how tough those suckers are.

She swallowed, almost eager to change the subject. Think they taste as good as they fight? she asked, motioning towards the carcass.

Fig smirked at her words, amused. ”I never did find her a bird, though,” he answered with a small smile. She hadn’t ended up needing a helper or a guide, not even the stellar brother she’d been born with. She was a force of her own.

He followed her gaze to the wolverine, feeling oddly colder now that she’d stopped touching him. He listened to her explanation and warmed again as her words touched him. He understood what she meant about it being hard not to help. He would’ve felt the same. ”So it’s not because you saw me and thought ‘look at those chicken legs, he’s gonna get himself killed, poor moron’?” he asked with a grin.

Fig stepped around the wolverine’s body, considering. ”Probably worth finding out,” he answered, looking over at River. He gestured with his muzzle and smiled, inviting her to take the first bite.

I'm sure she's just fine without one, River almost laughed. Though, beneath the veneer of a warm countenance, her skin crawled with envy. Beneath that, the ache of loneliness felt steeped into her bones. Hard to miss something you never had. And who needs a seeing-eye bird when they've got someone like you? Honestly, it would have been overkill.

It was easy to praise a wolf like Figment. He was timeless; selfless in a way that many wolves were not and handsome to boot. She was glad to know him, but unfortunately, the most noble part about him was also the reason she hesitated to want more from him. The last thing she wanted right now was to feel like a second fiddle. Especially to someone's sister.

Still, he made her laugh. She couldn't remember the last time she had genuinely laughed, and it was almost foreign to her ears. Well, I wasn't going to say it, she quipped, grinning back at him.

The mood lightened considerably around them now that the danger had passed, and River was eager to take Figment's invitation for the first bite. She circled the beast a couple times, sniffing about suspiciously, before choosing the still-warm belly and taking in a mouthful of its tender underside. She grimaced as unchewed food spilled between her clenched teeth. Ew, she gurgled, swallowing the bite in haste. Her mother did teach her not to waste her food after all.

Her flattery embarrassed him into silence, though he was greatly pleased by it. It only then occurred to him how rare it was to hear such kind things said about him. Fenn was not the complimenting type, which he didn't hold against her in the least. He had never craved praise, but still, it was nice. He couldn't help but wonder if it would feel this nice coming from someone else. He suspected it might not.

He laughed with her, once again pleased that he'd been able to make her smile. Once again, he felt his words caught in his throat as he watched her circle the kill. Heat rose to his cheeks, making him thankful that her attention was elsewhere. Fig had spent far too much time in his life surrounded only by those he was related to. Being around someone who wasn't family, but felt like someone he could care about. That he did care about.

Fig would be thinking about this encounter for days.

His brows lifted in surprise at her reaction to the meat. Distracted now from his musing, he stepped towards her with concern, wondering if she'd bitten her tongue or something. He heard the ew then and couldn't help but laugh. "Is it that bad?" he asked, leaning down to sniff at the tear she'd made into its skin.

Let's just say I would have to be pretty hungry to pick this meal again, River snorted, attempting to lick her jaws free of the rancid aftertaste as a red Joker's grin bloomed around her lips. It is like carrion, but worse? Definitely an acquired taste. It was hard to describe, and carrion wasn't downright awful to consume, but there was certainly a long list of fresher meats she would prefer to have before falling back on rotten flesh.

If I didn't know any better, I would think this meat's been sitting in the sun too long. She wanted to make sure it sounded extra unappetizing before adding: Well? Your turn. River gestured with her paw for him to take a bite. Her blood-stained mouth looked earnest, but her silver eyes exposed a glint of devilry as she looked at him -- betraying the impishness looming beneath the surface.

Fig's nose wrinkled at her description of the meat's flavor. It didn't smell particularly terrible, but he had no reason to doubt her. He'd never eaten wolverine before. He’d never been particularly finicky about his meals, but he did hesitate this time. Only for a moment though before he leaned down and dug his teeth into the meat, tearing off a slice and swallowing it nearly whole.

It was not good.

His face scrunched in clear distaste. The meat was unpleasant, to say the least. It was tough to force himself to chew, let alone eventually swallow. It was as though the creature was made of pure gristle—not what anyone would call fine dining by any stretch of the imagination.

It took a while, but Figment finally found the will to swallow the meat, if only as a means of escaping the experience of eating it in the politest way possible. He looked at River, his opinion of the meal clearly written on his face for a moment until it sudden shifted into one of thoughtful contemplation. ”You know… it truly tastes like what you’d expect of a wolverine,” he commented, ”Tough and very unpleasant. Just like the animal itself.”

They managed only a few more bites between the two of them before moving on, eventually parting ways and leaving Fig glad to have seen his old friend again.