Ghost Lion Crag don't worry about him, he's getting fired in the morning.

The sun was peeking into the small crevice that made the opening to the lion's makeshift den. It was shining upon his face in a sliver that stretched from his temple, across his right eye and down to the corner of his mouth. It hadn't bothered him at first, but the brighter the sun shone, the more of a nuisance it became. It eventually became enough to wake him, and then came the worst part of the day.

Living.

Artaax pulled himself to all fours with a reluctant moan, shoving aside a few discarded bones from the old cat he'd had to kill in order to claim this place. It had been a lynx or a bobcat or something - small and aged. It had crawled into this cave to die and yet had still put up a fight when he'd come to steal that right from it. It had wounded him, but lunacy had driven him to tend his wound and keep it from infection. In retrospect, that had been idiotic. He should've let it fester and kill him. Hell, he should've let the cat kill him. But for some reason, luck kept abandoning him and he kept being compelled to survive. It was seriously the fucking worst.

He stepped into the sunlight and blinked at his surroundings. Cliffs, rocks, and sharp, jutting scrub littered the small valley that he had decided to claim. It was not a pretty sight, but he had never required his surroundings to be aesthetically pleasing before, so why start now when he cared about nothing anymore? He didn't feel hunger anymore, but stepped over to where he had toss the cat's carcass to grab a few mouthfuls anyway. There was hardly anything more than a few ragged scraps left. He'd been sating himself on this kill for days now and apparently it had given all there was to give. That was fine. Maybe he could starve to death now.

He probably wouldn't be lucky enough to do so.

The lion abandoned it and began to pick his way down the rocky labyrinth towards a stream that ran through his little slice of heaven down from the mountains that towered around him.  With each step, he hoped to slip and fall and break his body in some hole or another, but no such luck. He made it in one piece to level ground and closed the remaining distance to the stream where he stopped beneath a gnarled, withered tree and dropped his head to slake his thirst. He hoped perhaps he would accidentally lap up a fish bone that would puncture his throat when he swallowed it and he could fall into the water and bleed out. Again, no such luck.

Artaax dropped then beneath the tree upon the cold, hard, uncomfortable ground and stared off into the distance. He had no will to return to his cave, little as he liked the warm feeling of sun on his fur. He had no will to do anything but lie there and wait for the end to come.

Last lesson.

The lion groaned and shut his eyes. He really had no luck whatsoever.

she thinks she's crossed the invisible boundry that seperates the Teekon from the rest of the Wilds, but the girl is not entirely sure. the mountains she seems to be passing now don't seem to quite match the description of the Sunspire that her father gave, and she hasn't yet seen the dark woods he'd warned her off with an odd glint in his eye. still, she's going in the right direction, and Vuk thinks surely the next wolf she'll see will be able to tell her for certain. 

the stone is sharp and cold against her paws, yet the sun beats down heavy and warmth crawls through her pelt. it's the scent of old kill that pulls her from her initial path through the craigs, and though she's a proficient hunter she wouldn't dare pass up the chance of free food. she finds it soon enough; or rather, whatever is left of it. she noses at a ribcage and tugs halfheartedly at tough sinew. she isn't hungry enough or desperate enough to make a meal of the marrow, and instead focuses on the scent heavily intwined with the cats. it seems easy enough to track, and after a moment of deliberation, she sets on doing just that. 

he lays by a stream, lifeless as any one of the rocks that litter the bank and with misery practically radiating off him. she thinks of simply leaving him there, for he doesn't seem particulary inclined to answer her questions. still, she's tracked him all the way here, and the cat was disappointment enough. forging ahead, she sits her heavy frame down a few meters from him,  calling out. "you okay?" a forepaw hovers a few centimeters above the ground, indicator of her concern despite the bluntness of her words.  

Artaax heard the approach of footsteps prior to her arrival. His ears told him that it was something larger and heavier than a fox or even a lynx. Perhaps it was a coyote, or maybe even a mountain lion. Either could make an easy meal of him in this state, if his stupid instincts would just stay quiet and let them. Evidence suggested that would not be that case, however he still didn't bother turning to look to see just what it was sneaking up behind him.

It turned out sneaking wasn't exactly the right word for it. Artaax's ears flicked at the voice and he opened his eyes to peer sidelong towards where the girl stood, looking at him in a way that suggested she was concerned about something. Probably him, considering how defeated and morose he appeared. Not to mention covered in dry blood in a few places - his own, Kiwi's, or the cat's, depending on where you looked - and dirty and ragged everywhere else.

He silently blinked his mismatched eyes at her for a long moment before answering. "Yes," he lied. Or was it a lie? It really depended on how you looked at it. A sane person would not look at it like the truth.

she noticed after a moment the sorry state of his pelt, the scabs and bits of dried blood and clumped fur. while her first reaction was oh, ew, a sentiment strengthened by the odd smell she figured might be coming from his ragged pelt, her initial plan of asking what she wanted to know and leaving him to wallow by the stream was abandoned. she'd already decided that he was not okay, and thus his answer was met with a "don't be stupid." she set her paw back against the stone took a couple more steps toward him before pausing, nares wrinkling as she drew in his scent from what she saw as a safe-enough distance. 

she met his gaze a moment - struck by the weirdness of his eyes - before speaking once more. "I'm sorry whatever happened to you, happened." pause, allow the sincere sentiment to sink in, and then, "but your fur is a little - well, gross." oh, no. that didn't sound good at all, and while it was true, her father had told her time and again that she shouldn't go saying every truth that came to mind. "I could help you clean it, if you want." it was just blood, after all, and he didn't smell sick in the way her brother had that one time. perhaps she could simply roll him into the river, though despite how sorry he seemed, he was just intimidating enough for her to sideline that idea for the moment.

Artaax couldn't recall ever being called stupid before, except for perhaps by Blixen or Bobby when they were children. That didn't necessarily mean that it hadn't happened more recently, but if it had, he had conveniently left it out of his memory. It didn't particularly phase him to be called it now. Even if he was susceptible to the comments of strangers, he simply didn't care enough to be bothered. There was nothing left that he did care about. His sorrow had emptied him of petty things like concern - after all, what did those things matter in comparison to the loss he had suffered and suffocated under still?

He ignored her apology, and he ignored her comment about his coat. He ignored her offer to clean him up as well, but he did manage to grasp the vague impression from it that she wanted to do something and was requesting his permission. Seeing as he didn't care about anything, he said "I don't care," and continued to stare off into space.

she may as well have ben talking to a rock, or a sun-bleached log, but she was not detered. his answer was not exactly an agreement, but the alternative was to take it as a negative and simply leave him here to fade away into nothing. perhaps that was dramatic, but he lacked the spark of living things and it was all too easy to imagine him doing such. "alright," she offered, merely to fill the space, before closing the final distance between them and hoovering at his haunch. she found the most obvious wounds and decided to ignore those, instead carefully moving her muzzle over his spine until she found a raggedy mat and tugged carefully. his pelt was loose between her fur, ready to pull away if he decided to use his teeth instead of vague statements.

Artaax thought perhaps she might leave now, but it didn't happen. He continued to stare straight ahead as she moved nearer to him and began to poke and prod at him. He wondered vaguely what she was doing, without realizing he had been told already. Whatever it was, he didn't feel at all compelled to protest it. Hell, maybe she would slit his throat and he'd be caught so offguard that his instincts couldn't rise up and stop him from saving himself. Wouldn't that be awesome?

If that was going to be the case, it wasn't yet. She instead just pecked at him like one of those birds that flies around an elephant and perches on its back, catching flies. Like an elephant, he laid there letting it happen without concern. It was a waste of her time, really, but if it was what she wanted to do then what different did it make to him.

Plus it felt... kind of nice...

Kind of.

he was silent, and so she persisted. she tugged at the worst places, first, attempting to move with the same gentleness as her father but occasionally tugging a little too hard. initially inconsistant, her grooming became somewhat more fluid after the first few moment of stretching silence. he really didn't seem to care about anything, at all, and the attitude was so alien it kept her from thinking too much about grooming a stranger. she may as well be picking at a log, and as her movements became routine she didn't seek the break the silence any longer. besides, it was kind of nice, even if the boy didn't seem to register her in the slightest, and reminded her of doing the same to her brother.

Artaax settled into the grooming session nicely. It took him a few minutes to admit it, but it did feel rather nice, even when she tugged a little harder than usual. He soon enough found his eyes drifting closed, as there didn't seem much else to do, and it was making him feel a bit drowsy. It made him feel something else as well - something he couldn't quite place until he was so far surorunded by it, there was no going back.

Nomi.

The feisripa sprang to life with a snarl and darted away from her. When he turned to face her again, he was bristling with anger and glaring daggers at her across the few yards he had placed between them. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded venomously, not waiting for an answer before shouting at her again, "Get out. Leave me alone, and get out of here."

How dare she remind him of.

How could she make him think.

It had almost felt like...

"Just... go..." he said again, sadness creeping into his tone and smoothing the edges, just a bit. He turned away from her as his anger fell away into anguish and began to walk back towards his cave.

she moved as violent away from him as he from her, falling backward into the stream; her limbs couldn't seem to keep up with the sudden shock. a yelp slipped past her maw, and heat rose to her face a slow moment later. the suddeness of his change put just the right amount of fear into her to still her tongue entirely, not that she would have known what to say, in any case. shoulders stiffened as if expecting a blow, though no trace of agression carved her own features. his last words were only just out of his mouth before she pulled herself from the winding stream and sought to increase the distance between them. he turned away, and at a total loss, Vuk simply set to climbing up the way she'd came, fighting to stop the trembling in her chest, unsure whether to hate him or curse herself. she settled, for now, on avoidance.