Chimera Fields Winged

For @Cicero Dvořák !

A bone crunched between his teeth, sharp edges cutting into his gums, but Persia's mouth was too filled with blood already to take notice. His mind was elsewhere anyway — taking stock of his options, his wants for the future, such as they were. It was no shock to him anymore when he found these things lacking.

Still, there was no great despair in him for it. Why should he worry at all? He was a hale wolf at the cusp of his prime, untethered and unburdened by the typical trappings of age. No wife, no children to speak of, not even an aging ailing mother to nag him into guilty servitude. Easy was, as far as he knew, living her best life raising his youngest siblings. And his dad... well, who needed a dad, anyway? Not him.

So why was he so damn depressed?

Persia mulled this over the felled goat, reaching for another skinny limb to shake and tear loose.

@Persia

a saccharine scent had come with a frigid breeze—and with it, another wolf. cicero had long set aside his fruitless efforts of finding herbs. the cold weather and the never ending snow was at war with him, and he on the losing side. yet another knife to twist in his turmoil; a failed healer, once so brilliant...

and now what is he? 

a scavenger. a lowly thing, like a yipping coyote. it disgusted even himself, but as he prowled silently amongst the forest's edge, following that ichor, he couldn't ignore his hunger. it clawed as his insides, made saliva form in his maw. perhaps i am nothing but a dog.

there was a break in the trees, a clearing where a figure sat on its haunches, unaware and seemingly distracted. cicero stalked—more like limped—closer, his alabaster gaze trained on the young man. he seemed...troubled.

"you are going to sour your appetite, moping like that." he spoke, wary yet calm as he stood a few paces away.