Twisted Slough II. Caught in the burning glow.

tagging for reference but aw!

As soon as he caught sight of his mountain, he froze. It looked just as impressive from the coast as it did from everywhere else and yet, as he looked at the jagged tooth-like outline of it against a backdrop of grey sky, Revui could only think about the wrong he had committed. His parents did not know the truth—they had no idea he had attacked Speedy  by mistake and it was entirely likely that secret would follow him forever without being exposed—but it did not sit well with him. He had to atone; Revui truthfully believed that this one slight was egregious enough to cause his excommunication. He did not deserve the mountain, he was not good enough, he was not strong enough nor wise enough. One day he might be.

Once he found the coast and had been travelling along it for a day or so, Revui decided he disliked the taste of salt that swarmed his every breath. He stopped to rest by a pool and drink, but found the taste so sharp it curled his lips and burned his tongue, not realizing that the composition of the sea made it unsuitable for sustaining him. He learned swiftly to avoid those puddles; however, his paws soon began to protest from all of his roaming. It wasn't a hard path exactly (the mountain had always seemed so strenuous but exhilaratingly so), but there were barnacles and shards of alien material scattered along the sand and dirt, enough to cut at his usually tough pads until his steps were stinging.

His route took him west and at the first opportunity Revui delved inland. The sensation of the fresh snow on his toes was comforting for a while, and then his paws were numb all over. He crept along until the earth became so soggy with ice that there wasn't anywhere he could turn without plunging in to an unthinkably deep bog; this seemed much worse than the beaches, and had him huffing and puffing and slurring odd curses between his teeth. He spoke in hushed, deep rumbles. The words made little sense to anyone but himself and @Arcturus—it was a child's language, made up between the two boys when they wanted to keep their thoughts between the two of them. Revui was frustrated, wet, and growing colder despite his great mass; he needed to slog at a faster pace if he was to find shelter for the evening, but from the looks of things his poor luck was coiling around his throat like a thick old noose.

Slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh caused her attention to be piqued from the root she'd been chewing that stuck out from the yuck of this place. She had travelled far to see the wonders that the world presented her with, to see what was out there that was not the darkness of the forest. Besides her sister, the spirit had never met anyone her own age; well, as far as spirits obeyed the laws of age, of course. It was this that piqued her interest the most when she lay eyes on him; sure, he looked full grown, like her, but there was something in his eyes, the way he was and the way his full-grown body parts all fit into place that showed that age. The spirit could not explain it, but it was as it was.

Her stark white contrasted the surroundings here, where the world was a lot less white than pretty much anywhere else right now, but she liked it here nonetheless: it reminded her of home, or at least some parts of it. She came into motion, sullying her white pelt as she slosh-sloshed in his direction, eager to see how he may respond, this outside wolf.

Sloughs were gross. Java could attest to this because there was a slough near her house, and it was loaded with all sorts of gross things (like silt, and ducks, and poop, and sometimes traffic cones). This slough wasn't much different. It was fed by some of the water draining off of the nearby plateau, so it was filled with all kinds of bird-specific fluids (and at this point probably a few wolf ones); the ice crusted the shallow parts but left the deeper segments cold and exposed, and there was no way for the boy to tell the difference between them. Everything was dark with silt and half-frozen. He could power through most of the slough because of his great size, but Revui wasn't in the best condition for such an aggressive style of travel—he could only plough through so much of it before the cold of the water soaked through his winter coat and started numbing the bulk of his muscles. Soon, if he wasn't careful, he would be struggling to breathe while the frigid water worked at slowing the rest of him down.

He didn't see the pale girl as she sloshed her way along the shallows. She looked like a drifting patch of snow. Maybe a pile of ice that had broken away and slowly drifted across the deep end of the slough. Whatever she was, Revui was too focused on finding a way out of the deep portion he'd inadvertently slipped in to, and as he struggled against the loose soil his silver pelt turned graphite-black from all the nasty brown depths. This couldn't have been good for him. Being healthy and fjording through the slough was one thing, but he had gaping wounds across his body and fresh cuts to his paws to think about, and if too much of that nasty stuff got in there he was liable to give himself an infection.

When he finally touched solid ground with his paws, he gave a lurch, the ground made a gross sucking noise as if it wasn't going to give him up — and he pulled free, sloshing down against a more solid section of reeds and kicking his his hindquarters, until he was sprawling chest-first across a chunk of raised earth. He was panting pretty hard, and each inhalation smelled like sulfur—but Revui didn't notice, he was just happy to be free.

The pale youth just watched as he struggled through the slough. She wondered why he was taking this deep end. Maybe he had not realised how deep it had become, but then, why hadn't he tested it? Content to be up to only her belly in the murky dirt, the spirit watched him as finally, he found some sort of shore beneath his paws. Neck arched up and ears sprang forward as the sucking popping sound released him from the slough's grasp.

He flopped down on a piece of earth that he had found, looking exhausted. The white youth wondered what he had been doing to start with. Curiously, she continued to watch him from her position not far away in a shallower part of the slough, still only up to her stomach in water and dirt (though this didn't seem to bother her much).

Revui was injured, but he had grown up under harsh conditions and was adapted to the strenuous activities one might find upon the mountain slopes. He was tired, he ached all over, and he was soggy from the silt-laden bog, but that would not stop him for long. He was laying there gathering his wits (great clouds of breath huffing out of him like the smoke trail of a dragon) when he noticed a pile of snow drifting curiously closer and closer, until he could not help but smell wolf — and alongside that scent, Blackfeather.

Like a creature possessed—crocodilian and primal—he pulled himself up chest-first and faced her with a grimace of fangs. She was in the shallows, her pelt streaked with putrid green-brown stains thanks to the slough, but there was no way he would ever forget the smell of a Blackfeather wolf. The stranger was young—like him, he might've thought if he had a cooler head—and close enough to his position that he could easily lunge after her if he'd wanted to. He pivoted and tried to close the distance, but Revui's paws sank in to the muddy earth, and he had to scramble backwards to stop from falling in to another deep segment.

He was on his feet now, though. His tail raised with the confidence he typically held upon the mountain, dripping though it was. He rumbled a low sound and watched her keenly, eager for a chance to tear her to pieces.

When he noticed her at last, there was some sort of fury in his eyes. The spirit had not seen such fury before -- he was enraged, looked enraged, as if she was the foulest thing on earth. She looked behind her, even, as he struggled to get up, teeth bared, to see if there was something else behind her. But there was not. So it must be her that he thought to be the biggest scum of the earth. She tilted her head and stared at him, contemplated running, but there was something else there; she felt exhilarated and alive. This was exciting!

She wondered what he was so angry about, though. The distance between them kept him away from her, for now -- the slough between them was not the safest and steadiest place to stand at -- and she just stared at him, a challenging glint in her eyes. Eventually she asked, her voice a little raspy from disuse: "What are you angry about?"

Let me know if any of this is not ok! I can edit.

Her words fell on deaf ears. He need only inhale that scent, and he was filling with a Hulk-sized rage. His fur spiked with each sloshing step he made, rising like a shark's fin down his spine as he tried to fight against the moor's sodden ground. He picked his way through it as carefully as he could despite the rising ire in his breast; Revui moved too quickly to be efficient, but managed to get through most of the softer areas before his path took him through a patch of deep silt — he stopped there, and took a leap for solid ground, landing roughly on his chest but scrambling to keep moving. He began to close the distance between them - whether this girl was trying to out-maneuver him or not, Revui was like a thing possessed.

He would not let this Blackfeather wolf leave unharmed. If he could, he'd sink his teeth in to her throat. He'd drown her in the slough, leave her body buried with a layer of grime, and carry her head back to the mountain. She was far from home and the big bad wolf was hungry.

Revui loosed an agitated roar as he came careening in her direction, his steps sluggish but powerful, a drum beat of oncoming danger. She was small, quick, and likely knew of an escape — but if Revui was going to redeem himself to his family (at least in his own mind) he was going to do this. He would kill her, and with her death would come the praise of Moonspear. He would return to the mountain and all would be forgiven.

The spirit simply watched him for a moment as he struggled to get out from the mud and ignored her question. The danger for her was that she saw herself as someone who stood between the world of the living and the dead, and she had not yet experienced the danger that teeth brought. She did not yet know the danger of death that posed, and so she merely stood and stared at him as he came closer.

Only as he nearly reached her did she bounce; out of reach at first, but then she had been too slow to come to motion and felt teeth grip around one of her upper hind legs. As her chin slammed to the ground suddenly pain seered through her body and a loud yelp echoed through the slough.

no problemo. I'm ok with a bit of roughing up. :)

As soon as his teeth found something to grip (in this case, a limb) he did not waste any time and bit down. He was still charging at her too, which forced the leg up rather than back; his intention had been to grab and to pull, like pulling legs off a spider, but the momentum of his larger body could not be contained. He upended her instead, grimacing around the limb, snarling, grinding his teeth together with such animosity and purpose that the leg would (most likely) snap; but her other one was free to flail, to kick, to claw, and he could not defend against anything she did to counter him in the moment.

There was something strange about the feeling of pain. She had stubbed her toe, stumbled and fell, been chewed on a bit too hard by her sister; but this pain was much more raw than any of that. Part of her had never felt more alive than now. She felt something snap in her leg and in reaction she curled her body up and snapped towards his face. The pain sent a surge of adrenaline through her body and the pale youth's teeth were bared as she curled up towards him, aiming to damage whatever part of his face she could get a hold of in hopes of dispelling his bloodthirst enough to get away.

She retaliated. Her curving crescent-moon body sending those teeth too close to his face; so close that they grappled at the corner of his mouth and with a violently desperate twist, those teeth sliced through the flesh. He bellowed as the pain shot through him and fell back, the jowels on his right side ripped like ribbons and hanging off his face. The boy glowered at her and then made to lunge again — but the pain in his face was shockingly sharp, and he missed, giving her a small window to escape — provided she could get that cracked limb to work.

There was something wicked and satisfying about it when she managed to grab hold of part of his face and ripped a bit open. The spirit managed to get to her feet quickly but the pain in the leg was debilitating at first. She felt her hairs quiver as he lunged and only narrowly missed, too close for comfort. The rush of adrenaline that surged through her body made her able to escape; she dashed through the bough and stepped on the hard bits of ground, an off click in her step. She would pay for it later, that she had used it to run when all that made it function was adrenaline, but at least her head did not sit atop bloodied peaks as a warning to her kin.