Broken but not dead [M]

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The pain was making him dizzy, which didn't help with how exhausted he was. With a few of his ribs broken, the fox struggled to walk normally. Unless he could magically heal his body or find somewhere safe, he had something of a death sentence hanging over him. He experienced something similar when he recovered from the flood a year ago, though the damage back then didn't limit his movement like this. He hoped that he didn't run into anyone else and continued further.

As he continued, the fox decided it was enough. He was too tired to continue on, and looked for a means to sleep. He noticed a nearby tree and made his way over. He curled up (not minding his injury) and felt himself shut down. Hopefully, nothing was going to mess with him...

Despite having a brush with death, Kapvik was still pissed over losing that cockeyed trickster. He circled back around, entering the glen via the valley. Its waters were tranquil if not overfull, threatening to spill out further onto land. This is where he resumed his hunt. The fox fell down here, so he must be nearby...Knowing nothing of Scratch's injuries, the giant searched for any signs; tracks, parted foliage, scent, anything. Ten minutes of acute observation brought up a lead: imprints in the mud and scrapes, as if Scratch had fallen and dragged his sorry self multiple times. Injured? Plausible. Though the fox was wiry and limber, that ledge had been precipitous. More evidence revealed itself in scent. Yep. Definitely the same fox.
INDENTUsing his nose to lead the way, he stopped several times to meticulously memorize more clues as they came up. Some strands of sunset fur, more prints and scents...It lead to a tree and a fox. Leaping forward, Kapvik tried to pin the insufferable creature beneath him. If successful, he would waste no time in wringing the life out of him with his slavering jaws.

Even though the nightmare kept him from enjoying true shuteye, the fox managed to recover some of his lost energy. Scratch muttered several things to himself before subconsciously noticing a wolf. His nose sniffed a few times before realizing that this was a familiar smell. As his brain turned itself back on, he opened his bad eye to see a blurry form in the air.

Instinct took over as he tried to spring away. An unnatural yelp escaped his mouth when he realized that he had a few broken bones. Stunned, he felt himself being pinned down by the larger creature. Another cry of pain came out, this time with the taste of blood in his mouth. He felt himself starting to panic at the unknown injury. There was no way that the wolf could be tearing into him so soon. It was then it dawned on him as his breath became more hollowed. One of the ribs punctured his lung. He squirmed a bit before realizing there was nothing else he could possibly do.

Kapvik reveled in his agony. Scratch has earned the brunt of his latent sadistic mannerisms. Anything less would be a mercy and he was in no mood pulling punches. Not after everything that has happened. Scratch just might be the outlet he needed to get rid of this accumulation of agitations festering inside of him like a sickness. Lucky for Kapvik, bad for the trickster.
INDENTAs planned, the wolverine gripped Scratch's pharynx, effectively crushing it. He placed his paws elsewhere as he began drubbing the fox with gruesome shakes of his head. Left, right, up, down. A shattered spine, a broken hip, a decapitated head. Kapvik played with his catch, painting his surroundings in blood. Oh, but it was not enough! Not yet. His grotesque masterpiece needed an extra edge to set it apart from others. Dropping his chew toy, he inspected the damage done. There was nothing wily about Scratch now; his cranium was gone, his extremities broken, belly bloated with rearranged innard. The sight before him was a ghoulish beauty until he looked upon the fox's neglected head.
INDENTBlank eyes stared through him, unseeing, haunting. Face stricken into one of shock and pain. Fur matted with blood and mire. Kapvik picked up the head, incisors poking through the eyes. Blood marked him, forming renewed rivulets down his soiled throat. It held no taste now having drunk himself full. Teeth carved flesh and sinew, peeled from bone. The brain was left untouched. Marveling the bloodstained skull for a moment, he turned back to the body with a snarl. Fangs ripped open that abdomen and thus he began thrashing the cadaver with resurgent fever. He did this as he stalked through the trees, decorating them with blood and organs in equal measure. The trees began to thin out minutes later. Exiting the vale, Kapvik deposited what little was left of Scratch on the ground. Nothing resided within him now; a husk of fur and blood. No bones, no organs. He was literally a loin cloth.
INDENTThe fauna was no more and this sated him. Peering over his shoulder back into the forest, he looked upon his path of devastation. A pleasing sight to the Epsilon. Languidly, he circled around the glen to head back. He would greet his pack mates with a homicidal, raunchy mien. Savage, untethered, ruthless. A macabre artist fearless of adorning his art.