Chimera Fields Wasting Time on Love That Wasn't Real

The young gentleman found himself amongst a vast expanse of wildflowers. They were still bright with color despite the late time of the season, and they swirled with the force of the wind as Wicken wound their way through. A dark figure amongst a sea of colors. The days had been long, but they had also been fruitful in all the endeavors he pursued. There was a calmness that settled in his chest from the wind lightly coaxing him forward as he continued. 

His lithe form had filled out considerably. Wicken could feel the power behind his movements now, and his fluidity had become smoother. The injuries that were once sported had finally healed into scars that were mostly covered by fur. The spring had brought a plentiful amount of hunting with it, and they found themselves in search of the next meal to upkeep the new found strength. He was not picky in his hunts, or rather, he was a beggar that could not afford to hand pick where his nutrition came from. The prey here was thriving, and the young wolf weaved their way through the patches of flowers to flush an unsuspecting meal from its burrow.

 

Her travels brought her to a field of wildflowers, bright with color and life. She was drawn into them , wishing to experience the wind-stirred colors around her body. In the forest where the majority of her wandering took place, flowers were sparse as jewels amid endless evergreen shadow. 

Thus Esme waded into the meadow. The foliage was not tall but it ticked her lower legs as she walked. Moments passed as she relished the beauty of the flowers, but when she gazed about she noticed an abrupt, dark interruption to the living rainbow. He was a large, lithe wolf, male by scent. His height surpassed her own and she feared a conflict with him would not end well for her. 

Esme froze in place, silent. He looked to be hunting but he probably had seen her already. She did not wish to call attention to herself nor disturb his hunt.

Wicken continued his attempts to flush the small critters from their burrows with quick rushes and jostles of the shrubbery where he could detect a scent flowing to his nose. They stuck a large, dark face into a particularly wide burrow and escaped the compromising position with a sneeze from the dust. They were unaware of the company until after the sneeze had left him, but it made the situation no less embarrassing. Wicken was quick to catch a feminine scent on the wind. It smelled close. The dark ears on top of his head pinned harshly to his skull while he gauged the situation.

The concept of interaction was far fetched for him on this particular day, and he was unsure if he had been spotted yet. The young male remained in a frozen position, staring the opposite direction of the wind that brought the smell with it. After a few moments of statue-esque deliberation, Wicken released their pinned ears and continued with his attempt for lunch. He would not allow himself to be chased from these grounds before filling his stomach with a meal. 

They moved parallel to the scent if not away from it to give the other individual space. The occasional glance was sent over a lanky shoulder to determine their location in relation to his own, but he did his best to conceal the looks between the flowers. A stir in a burrow is what finally drew their attention. Wicken honed in on the sounds that lay beneath a wilting flower patch, and he lay down in front of the entrance in wait. He was facing the stranger now, observing the pale female carefully between the stems of the flower. He did not want to make his new position known lest the wolf wished for a tussle.

The wolf had put on a bit of a show for her with their hunting antics. The sneeze nearly summoned a laugh from her, but she kept quiet, watching them. For a brief second, they looked in her direction and then abruptly crouched into the flowers, and what this told her was that she had been seen. It also told her that he was not interested in being seen, which likely meant he was not seeking conflict, either. 

It was difficult to determine where the wolf had gone. Then, Esme spotted a wisp of smoke among the flowers and realized that this was the stranger's tail. A twitch of her ears toward them told her that there was a creature nearby, given away by a subterranean scuttling. The animal was probably of the burrowing variety, and the wolf was likely lying down before the mouth of the burrow. 

An idea came to her, one that might give her both a morsel of food and the pleasure of showing good will towards one of her own kind. Esme suddenly burst forward, landing with extra force on her front paws. She tore about, slapping the ground with her forelegs, rising, spinning, snarling. Surely the animal hiding below the earth would be disturbed by the vibrations from above, and move toward the exit of its burrow, where the shadowy male lay in wait.

There had been a long window of observation for Wicken to determine the motives of the fellow canid, and they remained unsure at the mouth of the hollow. It left much to be desired when trying to gauge another, but the young male had little choice. They were not inclined to waltz up and receive a toothy introduction in lieu of a silent acknowledgement. The pale wolf appeared to be an astute observer herself, and he was appreciative of the shrubbery mostly shielding his form from any prying eyes. 

The sudden burst of noise immediately drew an amber gaze back to the other with widened eyes. At first, Wicken was concerned that he might be on the receiving end of an outburst, but the scene before him was quickly determined to be comical. The pale wolf had turned into something akin to a bucking bronc. The show was beyond entertaining to them, but he would not have been surprised if it sent another running for the hills. A snort escaped them before it could be stifled, but the lack of sound within the den was proof that the other, strange as they were, was on to something. 

Wicken rose to their feet, and their position was given away by tall shoulder blades over the flowering plants. The burrows silence erupted into mania as several jack rabbits surged forth. He had been prepared initially, but the antics of the pale one sent him reeling as he grappled for any and all of the little forms at the same time. The young male missed the vast majority that poured out. In the chaos, he managed to snag a confused one by the hind end, and the kill was swift in a blur of dust surrounded by the brightest blooms.

The warm carcass was dropped from his jaws, and they took the opportunity to peer over the flowers with yellow eyes. A suspicious gaze resting on the helpful stranger. Why? A silvery voice spoke.

Esme maintained her role in the hunt without paying much attention to the stranger until the sounds of movement began to issue from their direction. The quick, hopping gait of the rabbits was one she easily recognized as she halted her frenzied movement and cast her lavender gaze toward the other wolf. 

Eventually the clouds of dust began to dissipate and the world quieted. It appeared that the male had emerged from the ordeal at least somewhat triumphant, for he clasped a carcass between his jaws. Esme was not certain if he would take off with his meal or address her, and he chose the latter action, doing so with a single-worded query: Why?

Esme wore a small smile, taking no step forward, hoping to quell some of the suspicion that was apparent in his tone of voice. 

"I just wanted to help you. I've nothing better to do," was her reply. "My name is Esme." She sat down where she stood, and though the smell of blood drew saliva into her mouth, she kept her eyes on the wolf and not on his meal.

The hard skepticism within their gaze was quickly melted into a soft putty in the face of the strangers generosity. The likelihood of his success would have been much less with a one-manned effort. Wicken removed their large head from atop the foliage and peered at the carcass that had been haphazardly dropped. There was a dilemma to be had here.

The young male weighed his options for a few long moments whilst shielded from the silvery newcomer by the dense flowers. Esme. Dark ears perked at the exchange of her name. The thought process halted, and the carcass of the hare was scooped up in their jaws. Wicken emerged from the flowers with the rabbit in tow.

He was careful to keep his distance from the other as he came to a sitting position a few lengths away. They did not allow their eyes to meet in a familiar ballad of interaction from the young male. Wicken. He was unsure what else to say as the rabbit was released from his jaws once more.

The shadowed wolf’s approach was slow, but Esme could understand and she was patient. Eventually, he drew nearer, though he left considerable distance between them still. It was unwise to trust strangers this early on; she might have done the same. She might have felt uncomfortable if he’d come much closer. 

The rabbit fell from his jaws and landed with a soft thud at his feet, and then he gave her his name. Wicken.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke softly. Then she hesitated, her lips partially closed. She didn’t want to be rude and walk abruptly off, but she also didn’t want to sit there and fire at him an onslaught of small-talk. “You must be hungry. Do you want me to be on my way?” She asked this in a soft yet serious manner. “Or would you like some company? I’ll do whatever you wish.”

There was a certain skepticism that they prided themselves on in the company of a stranger, and Wicken was not the type to stray far from it. They were unaware of the intentions that lie before them. The chance that they were positive and genuine was a thought considered, but he would not allow the same uncertainty to push him from his gentlemanly demeanor. 

The meal between them weighed heavily on his mind, but it subsided along with his hunger. In the midst of an awkward situation, they had forgotten their manners. I do not mind company. Here. A lighter colored paw pushed the body of the rabbit towards the feminine stranger. You can have it. I will catch myself another one.

It was a polite offer. An olive branch in the hopes that an acquaintance could be made. The likelihood was slim given the circumstances, but Wicken wished to be a friendly figure. The wolf that had evaded her mere moments prior was seemingly washed away.

The tension seemed to have melted from between the pair of wolves. Esme's brows lifted when the other passed the lagomorph carcass her way and she began shaking her head, startled yet touched by this sudden kindness. 

"No... you do not have to do that, Wicken," she replied softly. "This is your kill." The last thing she wanted was for him to think she had helped him with the desire to be reciprocated. She was hungry, and the thought had crossed her mind that by helping them, she may earn herself a snack. But she had changed her mind. 

He still might insist. She hoped he wouldn't - then, this could be her good deed for the day.