Ouroboros Spine i think i'm dumb, but maybe i'm just happy

@Savannah

they had only been in the bay a few weeks before wanderlust set into him, grappling with wicked claws that sunk deep. and who was he to deny that kind of urge? if the earth wanted to move you, it moved you.

he wasn't a fan of the mountain he found himself on, but because he was having a good time imitating the goats (or were they sheep? rannveig didn't know - they were stupid, is what they were - especially their flat, affectionless eyes) that stared rather blankly at him, rannveig before long found himself howling on the edge of a jaw-dropping precipice. he was a daredevil in every sense of the word - stupid, bullish, and here to have a good time -- so of course, he crowed in the faces of his disapproving audience, and sounded another howl that loosed into the brackish sky.

if the goats didn't like his serenading, whatever. he had every intention of eating them, anyway.

@Rannveig

Her stomach growled. The uncomfortable sensation had begun, the gripping talons of hunger raking its claws against her stomach while demanding to be satisfied. Her jaws clenched, swallowing her salivation as she tracked the scent of the goats; soon, if she succeeded, she would have a meal that would last her for the next few days. She would be satisfied, she told herself, the uncomfortable sensation would dissipate into nothingness before long. The scent was to die for, it had been two days since she had last eaten anything and, because she was hungry, her thoughts were yelling at her for not going after an elk when she had the chance. She nearly laughed; no, that was dumb. She would have died from injuries long before she died of starvation if she had attempted such a feat. 

A howl. If there were some sort of Gods, they were probably having some sort of good

Instead of traveling back down the mountain where she was sure she would have an easier time finding something, a rabbit perhaps, she instead set her mind to tracking these damn goats. She swallowed again. Before long she would begin to drool if she didn't find something to distract her or, better yet, fill her stomach. Drooling was one of the least attractive things to do, but Savannah didn't mind - no one was here. ol' chuckle up there. At first, she stopped and narrowed her eyes in the direction of it. Was it that male again? No, this sounded chipper, excited, a direct difference between the one from before. These wolves definitely liked to sing. Mountain wolves that liked to sing? That was a first. A soft laugh fell from her lips, shaking her head at her own silliness. It wasn't until there was a second one, no, a third that only got louder and closer that she picked up her speed. 

Whoever it was, they were going to scare away her meal. Oh- she could see them. The goats. The slightly bigger goat- oh that wasn't a goat. Goats don't howl. Their attention was on the male, and as she attempted to get closer, she hoped to goodness that he would understand what she was trying to do. Yes, keep distracting them - there was a smaller one, a lighter tan. If she could get to it, she was golden.

well, one of the goats had taken to his howling; rannveig knew this because it kept inching closer. it probably wanted to close the distance so it could really experience the mellifluous rapture that was rannveig's nonpareil singing ability.. maybe it even wanted an autograph?

except, when he really looked, he realized it wasn't a goat at all (no flat, stupid eyes, see). it was a wolf -- female, alone on a dangerous cliff, and clearly confused!! his women-saving senses tingled in alarm. alert! alert! alert! she was going to fall off of the mountainside!

nevermind that she knew exactly what she was doing, and rannveig was just too stupid to notice.

he slowed his song to a low note, and then clapped his jaws shut in a cheeky grin. "hey! you're spooking my audience." he joked, unaware she had hoped he would somehow mind-read (rannveig, read???) that she was hoping he'd provide her dinner as well as a show. nope, not rannveig - there had to be certain nightly romps promised before he paid out like that.

 "Hey! You're spooking my audience!"

Shows over, folks. The goats immediately sensed her presence and a few of them turned to her direction in response. Savannah let up her hunting stride, ears falling to her head in obvious disdain in the turn of events. Ah well, some hunts failed, some hunts succeeded - what was she to do? It wasn't as if she was hungry or anything. For a moment, her eyes wavered on the younger goat and she noted that it became increasingly agitated with being surrounded. The adults surrounded it from each side - no way to get it from here without being trampled to death.

Slowly, she looked up at the male who had a grin on his face. A grin. A sigh fled from her mouth, her body language instantly deflating. "Sorry," she offered; if she had been anyone else perhaps she would have attacked him instead, but she wasn't. Instead, she had manners. Dipping her head in greeting or perhaps in good measures, the girl then turned around and started to attempt to walk down the mountainside as safely as possible: she would find another meal elsewhere. An easier one, if she was lucky.

 While she was doing that, the male could continue to serenade with the mountain goats despite them having an obvious distaste for his style. Perhaps she was being rude for walking away, but Savannah knew that this uncomfortable feeling in her stomach would only grow stronger as the moments passed.

instead of being happy to be met by such a dashing man, the woman before rannveig looked deflated. of all things! well i flipping never. the mayfair-cairn huffed, his jaws clapping shut as a final note stemmed from his throat. 

he looked to the nearest goat for sympathy, but it simply stared back with pitiless, dull eyes. rannveig huffed again, this time louder — swearing  he’d eat that guy first before he leapt after the retreating form. hey! wait up!

he had plans to suavely catch up, to impress her with his athleticism— but the gods ordained it not so, and rannveig’s foot missed its foothold. 

with an abrupt yelp he fell, landing with a loud grunt on a jutting crag below. he looked up, the wind knocked out of him — hoping against hope she hadn’t seen.