Porcupine Ridge redbull

The shadows of the forest were deep, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and evergreen. The moon, pale and high, cast thin silver beams through the canopy, illuminating the frost-kissed ground in fleeting patches of light. Lorcan lingered in the darkness, his tall, muscular frame blending into the void between trees.

His eyes, sharp and cunning, scanned the area as he inhaled deeply, catching the faint scents that lingered on the air. The forest was quiet tonight, its usual symphony muted by the weight of winter’s chill.

He shifted his weight, the sound of his claws scraping briefly against the frozen ground the only noise he allowed. Then, with a flick of his tail and a sharp exhale, Lorcan tipped his head back, his dark voice lifting in a low, commanding howl.

It was a call for one alone—a summons meant for @Envy.

There was no urgency in the sound, no desperation—only a demand laced with the undercurrent of expectation. He had no doubt she would come.

Settling onto his haunches, Lorcan waited, the faint glint of moonlight catching the edges of his dark fur. His thoughts lingered on her—the way she moved, the fire in her eyes, the allure she wielded with every calculated step. She was sharp, quick-witted, and entirely his.

And come she did, obviously. Attention seeker. She couldn't exactly just ignore the promise of thrill, sung from the mouth of her intriguing companion.

Moon-bright, the bone whites and light silvers of her fur seemed to reflect its glow, only broken up by the contrast of darker markings from tail tip to the underside of her eyesockets. The split of light and dark, a half-moon, forboding as it was striking.

She too flitted between the shadows and the light before stepping into a patch illuminated by the moons eye on light feet, uncharacteristically graceful as she slipped into view. ::Y'called?:: She spoke, with a tilt of her head, and a playful glimmer in her eye.

And here she had hoped to see some grisly scene, alas, nothing for her eyes to bask in beyond his muscled figure, wrapped in shadow and coal.

She'd take it.

Lorcan caught the shift of light first—the silver hues of her fur glinting in the moon’s pale glow. His green eyes tracked her movement, a hunter’s gaze softened only by recognition. As she stepped into view, her words carried that playful lilt he’d grown accustomed to, and he huffed out a low breath, amusement curling at the edges of his sharp features.

He moved toward her, his frame cutting through the shadows as easily as hers, and greeted her with a nuzzle, his muzzle brushing against the sleek curve of her neck. Always, he replied, his voice low and rich, the kind that carried weight even when words were few.

Pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, he tilted his head, studying her with a flicker of curiosity. Are you satisfied here, Envy? The question lingered between them, tinged with more than idle interest. He wanted to know—not just her words but the truth behind them.

She met him halfway with a skip to her step and an easy swish of her tail, she felt his muzzle drift across the fur of her neck in greeting. She loved to be touched, loved to touch as well, but in that moment; her breath caught and her limbs seized, frozen in place while his jaws skimmed scarred flesh, hidden well beneath the wild tempest of her fur.

An icy feeling shot through her, jumpstarted her system and muddied her brain with all sorts of confusion. Hell, for the briefest of moments, her airways were crushed and she felt the liquid sliding down her forehead, dripping off her jaw. She shuddered.

Red eyes regarded him from the side, whale-eyed for a moment before she pulled back and gave a light laugh. W-what? Oh- um...

She sat back, let her paws rake indents through the ground idly. Was she... satisfied?

No.

How could she be? She still snuck away to maim whatever unfortunates she could find. She still toiled until her paws were cracked and bleeding just to keep herself from tearing into herself for something to do, to mend, to fix.

I... don't know. She answered finally, rattled with uncertainty and yet, laced with resentment all the same. There is more... I want to do.

Lorcan’s ears flicked forward as her laughter hit the air—light, but fractured. He didn’t miss the way her breath hitched or how she shifted in place, her claws raking soft furrows into the earth. His green eyes narrowed slightly, reading the tension that laced her movements like threads too taut to hold.

He stepped closer, the shadows folding around him like old companions. His muzzle dipped, brushing her cheek with a deliberate slowness, the warmth of the gesture contrasting with the sharpness of his next words. Then we should find some place for you, little girl.

His voice was low, quiet—not unkind, but edged with the weight of someone who saw through veneers. Lorcan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his green eyes catching the flicker of red that mirrored something unsettled within her. The corners of his mouth curved, a faint, wolfish grin that held no mirth.

This isn’t it, is it? Not yet. He tilted his head slightly, waiting, though his posture spoke of someone ready to move, to act, to drag her toward whatever it was she couldn’t quite name. He was not a man for sentiment, but for action. If there was a restlessness in her, he could match it stride for stride.

Some place? She murmured, feeling the soft collide of their muzzles as he drew close again, her attention flitting between the ground and his stare. She chose her reservation carefully.

Like where? I can't— She would pause, frustration evident in her tone Live like loners do... She murmured, dejection in the quiet admission. And yet, neither could she live like packs did; she devoured them for all they were worth and ruined it when they had nothing left to give. Nothing left to sate that which was always going be insatiable.

I don't know. Oh but she did; her heart stirred in her chest with burning desire, became a physical ache, a shroud that muddied any sane thought. Surgeons hands itched for practice. Devil's teeth itched for blood.

You see, it was a very bad thing for her to be bored.

when she trails off, his voice cuts through the quiet, low and rough, with no patience for coyness.

you don’t know? he repeats, not unkind. you know. you just don’t want to say it out loud.

he exhales, his breath clouding faintly in the icy air. he leans in slightly. and you won’t be happy. not here, not anywhere, until you figure out what the hell it is you actually want. his voice softens, but only slightly, the gravel still scraping in his tone. so, envy. what is it? what’s the thing you’re afraid to admit you need?

he waits, his eyes steady, giving her the space to answer or not.

Agh She scoffed, unveiled disdain on her voice, she was but a ticking bomb waiting to blow, her crooked tail thrashed as all came bubbling to the surface. I want to heal! To be important! I want to have my way with the world, make it my bitch. She sneered, tongue drifting over needle-sharp canines.

She could not have vengeance, so instead she would seek for pure wrath, on the deserving or undeserving, it didn't matter. It would make her feel good, it would make that hole where her heart should have been stop eating away at every piece of her, addling her sick mind even worse worse worse worse. Her jaws quivered.

That's what I want. She huffed finally and sat down with a thump, slicked back scrappy fur to a figure of calm unbefitting of her.

he doesn't flinch at her outburst, doesn't move, doesn't blink. the silence is never-ending, it feels like, until his laugh shatters it. a cold, sharp bark of a laugh that cuts the quiet like the crack of a branch licked by the fire of lightning.

it’s not kind.

it’s not cruel.

it just is.

when his laughter fades, his expression shifts—he scents the air, his head tilting slightly as he takes in their surroundings. satisfied they’re alone, he speaks now. you want to heal? to become something more? so be it. i’m leaving now, and you’re coming with me.

there’s no softness in his tone, no invitation. it’s not a request. it’s a command.

his voice lowers, rough like gravel, his eyes narrowing as he meets hers. i’ve known squalor. i’ve crawled through it, drowned in it. i’ll never let it have me again. that’s my want. he closes the distance between them in one bold stride, shoving his forehead into the back of her neck with force. his canines flash as he nips sharply at her flank, a toothy ushering.

go, he orders, the word a growl. he steps back, his tail lashing behind him. we must move. fast. before anyone notices.

Leaving? Her shoulders fell a moment, a mixture of confusion and surprise at the corners of her features. and you're coming with me

His tone lacked the museful lull it often had, the playful mix of danger and amusement; now it was only danger that remained. He commands, he does not ease her into making the choice herself. He shoved her first, angled her in the direction he wished to go, and made his declaration.

But what about Dreven- She asked— she still cared for the man, now she'd leave him here after bringing him up these peaks?

Didn't seem like she had much choice.

She walked as Lorcan's teeth ushered her. She'd bite him for the infraction when she got the chance.

her hesitation grates against his patience, but he doesn’t snap—not yet. instead, he casts her a sidelong glance. dreven? he scoffs the name and his lip curls faintly. then stay for him. he doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t turn to face her fully. but if he’s enough to keep you, then maybe you don’t want what you said you did.

his teeth flash briefly as he snaps the air near her flank, driving her forward again when she falters. he knows he is tempting fate, asking her to whip around and snap at him. maybe he wants her to. to prove how badly she wants this.

you must not want to 'make this world your bitch' as bad as you thought. he goads. start actin' like it, or i'm liable to not believe you.

She looks up to the mountain, the ache of something not often felt in her chest.

Guilt?

And then the snapping of jaws returns her to the here and the now. Lorcan challenges her and like a whelp who cannot take the insult to her pride, she quickens her feet to match his own pace.

She could not falter or she'd be left behind. That alone spurred her to walk wherever it was he was intent on taking them. Envy could not conceive of being abandoned, of watching his figure slink away for good, her favourite plaything gone into the shadows. She was sick sick sick of being abandoned. A merciful euthanasia, her suffering done out of sight. She was a bad dog, given up on time and time again.

But not this time. This time he forced her with him. He wanted her with him.

It felt good, to be wanted. Intoxicating. She turned her head forward, and walked.

Self-serving. As always.

lorcan watches her with the eyes of a chained predator. her strides are rough, unsteady, but there. it’s enough. for now. he slows just a fraction, falling in beside her. the edges of his scarred muzzle twitch into something faintly resembling approval.

this is good, he murmurs to her and his words are like the rumble of distant thunder. he leans in close, dragging his tongue slowly over her ear, tasting her scent as he does so. it’s not soft, not really, but it's hers.

i’m proud, he says simply, the words rough but genuine in their own sharp-edged way. his shoulder brushes against hers. he doesn’t know where they’re going. not yet. but it doesn’t bother him. they’re moving, and that’s what matters. staying still isn’t an option—not for him, not for her.

lorcan exhales softly, the warmth of his breath curling into the icy air.