Totoka River breath of harsh air

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Some blood and gore.

The scent of prey crept into Tweed's nose, and he locked onto it, a glimmer of hope sparkling in his eyes. He hadn't had a fresh meal in weeks, and it was beginning to show. Just kidding, it had been showing for awhile. The boy was skin and bones, and his eyes had been duller than usual ever since his former pack had split. The smell of rabbit was strong here, and Tweed began to track it with fervor, feeling he might just have a chance this time. He licked his lips, spotting the small creature up ahead. With surprising finesse, Tweed leapt and pounced on the rabbit, cracking its back and killing it instantly.

At first, he could scarcely believe what he had done. He looked down, surprised at the small red streams of blood that were oozing from the rabbit's nose, mouth, and eyes. Tweed paused only a moment, though, before tearing into his lunch and gulping down the warm, fresh meat.

Cold, ocean wind bit at the red traveler's nose as she followed the coast Northwards, eager to make the most of her new energy. The seal she had managed to take down with the white stranger sated her for a day or two, but it wasn't long before Tuwawi's stomach growled again. One good meal wasn't enough to sustain her and so when the sharp scent of blood flooded the dry air, the lone she-wolf couldn't resist checking out to see if there would be any morsels left.

The ember slunk carefully through the bare cover like a lioness, hoping to catch a fox... or maybe a yote off-guard. However, to her disappointment, the silhouette of a wolf came into view. Damn. The likeliness of shaking another loner off his kill was pretty slim, and Tuwawi was in no shape for a scuffle. Then again... neither was he. The agouti man looked just as weathered and skeletal.

The prey was quickly disappearing into the male's gullet and so, decidedly, Tuwawi rushed forth to see if she could, in her ambush, spook him off the hare.

Tweed had finished roughly eighty percent of his hard-earned meal when the fiery wolf leapt at him. He grasped onto his precious food, a growl vibrating in his throat as his hackles rose and his eyes narrowed on the perpetrator. Perhaps others were able to willingly give up their meals, but Tweed was not inclined to do so. This was his food, and he did not want anybody else to have it. If there was any generosity left in his soul, it was buried deeper than the hunger that had scratched at his belly for the past several weeks.

He had whipped himself around so that he now faced away from her, attempting to choke down the last twenty percent of his kill before she managed to get to it. He didn't take time to note things like the scar on her face, the lack of meat on her bones, or any of the other finer details of her appearance. He only knew one thing: this was his rabbit, and she wouldn't be getting a single bite.

Her aging joints ached, sinew stiff as she lunged towards the ruddy man with wide eyes and a loud bray. However, the stranger was not to be budged. He coiled around his prize like Smaug, a loud and grizzly snarl reverberated from his throat. The flash of enamel and wrinkled expression meant he would not be chased off today and so Tuwawi veered in one direction, slowing her pace to a trot and circling back with a good few yards between them. Her tail flicked, a bit agitated, but there was no lingering sense of explicit disdain towards the man. The instinct to push boundaries and scavenge was a feral one - but it seemed these desires would be unfulfilled today.

She licked her chops hungrily and idly sniffed the snow while she listened to the lash few crunch crunches of rabbit disappear. If she lingered by him long enough, perhaps she could coerce him to hunt... or gain some information from his travels. Did he know about Caiaphas' hideout? Patiently, Tuwawi lurked nearby in anticipation of conversation.

Although Tweed had not yet hit sexual maturity, and there were plenty of other more pressing matters on his mind, he did note that this particular wolf was a) female and b) not trying to eat him... or his food, for that matter. Once he had devoured every single bit of his meal, Tweed licked his lips and turned his attention to the red wolf. He had grown more and more feral the longer he stayed a loner, and his voice was a rarely used thing these days. And yet...

"What happened to your face?" he asked, immediately realizing that she had probably heard that question a thousand times before. "You don't have to tell me." Tweed paused, admiring her for a moment. "You're pretty."