Otter Creek the good, the bad, and the dirty

set after the diaspora thread, staying a bit vague

She'd taken the long way through the mountains again, pace never slowing. It is only now that she sees she is a safe distance away, nearing the creek that has become so familiar, that she allows herself to slow. She halts after a few moments, allowing her prize to drop from her jaws in favor of catching her breath. Her head lifts slowly, and she glances around, tensing when she spots a figure approaching from a distance. A beat later, she relaxes and chuffs softly, realizing it is only @Eastwood.

The creek had been as far as he could make it today. He felt only fractionally better but had refused to lie around again, instead pushing himself to patrol one of the lake's adjacent territories. Getting here had been more difficult than anticipated, though, and he had been so winded that he needed to rest, episodes of coughing and hacking making catching his breath even harder. But he finally did and then raised up to sit on his haunches and look around. He wasn't sure what to do now that patrolling was out of the question for a while. He wished Eleni would show up to keep him company like she had in the meadow, and when a familiar form came bursting in, dropping something near the creek, a trickle of hope made his heart race. But it wasn't Eleni. Had he been able to smell, he might have been distracted by the meal, but instead his gaze was drawn to the panting Nirali. He got to his feet and headed over, coughing some as he moved. He stopped in front of her, looking between the meat and his companion. Nice, he said, obviously unaware of how she obtained this food. At least one of us is able to hunt. He hated that he couldn't even do that simple task. Oh he had tried, but running led to coughing fits, which sufficiently scared away any prey before he could even manage to pick up speed.

She winces at Eastwood's harsh coughs, trying to avoid thinking about his current state. The lack of food is more than enough to stress about. Instead she focuses on his words, taking another moment to steady her breathing before she responds. I stole it, She corrects him with no small amount of pride, still slightly breathless even as she speaks. Do you want it? Best to get rid of the evidence in case one of those mountain man idiots grows a brain and comes for it. She doesn't mention that those mountain man idiots had almost caught her this time; a good thief takes care not to jinx their luck, she knows.

He stared at her, too shocked to speak for a few seconds. Then he looked to the food and back at her, his eyebrows drawing together as a disapproving frown grew on his face. He shook his head when she offered him the meat. His stomach growled in protest to his morals, but he ignored it. You stole it? From another pack? He knew they were growing desperate, and there were maybe some things he could let go, but this was too much. What if they had pups to feed, Nirali? That pack probably worked hard to find this one scrap of meat and she had intruded into their territory and stole it. It just wasn't right. What if someone had done that to us? Was she not bothered by those kind of thoughts? And most importantly: What if they had caught you? As angry as he was with her right now, he certainly didn't want something to happen to her. The thought of how everyone would feel if Nirali were to disappear—how Eleni would feel. And he wouldn't be able to just not know what had happened to her. So he would have searched for her and found what? Nothing probably? His jaw clenched as his anger boiled inside his chest. This was all just too much out of his control for comfort, and he just couldn't get past the fact that she had stolen from someone.

His expression changes, and it hits her like a slap to the face. Her face quickly grows hot with her own anger at the disgust she thinks she hears in his voice, the judgment — as if he has any right to judge her. Her, his savior, the only one who had chosen to waste her own energy on the pathetic lump of wolf trapped under a hunk of wood. But she knows she can't say that, not to his face; she can only defend herself. I'm a thief, Eastwood. You didn't know that? Disdain colors her tone.
I've been a thief all my life. I was trained from puphood to take what others are too weak or stupid to defend. We are not weak. We're not stupid. That's why it won't happen to us — and why I won't get caught. It's simple, really; it's survival of the fittest. The oldest law of life, the only one that holds any weight in the cruel wilds. She pauses a moment, then adds: And if their pups are going hungry, the blame is theirs alone. They ought to have made sure they could care for their spawn before popping them out.

Of course he hadn't known that she was a thief. She had never told him that, and he wondered now if that was on purpose. And the way she implied that he should have known made him even angrier. Obviously I didn't know that. I wouldn't have— he stopped himself from finishing that thought because he couldn't really say that he wouldn't have stuck around; he hadn't had much of a choice at first. And now, he wasn't going anywhere, which left him incredibly conflicted. He stood and coughed, cursing his stupid sickness for making him look weak right now. When he could speak again he looked to Nirali. It doesn't have to be like that. That was the exact mentality he had run away from. He had become a natrona to avoid living such a ruthless lifestyle and he wouldn't live like that again. We can survive without leeching off of others. Plenty of packs did just that, and survived fine. Rules were made for a reason.

She snorts, biting back the sharpest of the words that spring to the tip of her tongue — for @Eleni's sake, if nothing else. And how do you propose we do that? She tries to keep the fire from her tone, though it still flickers in her eyes. The effort is rendered moot with her next words, however, venomous as they are: Are your gods the generous sort, Eastwood? Do they reward such noble conduct? Perhaps they'll descend from the heavens and fill your belly with divine providence. I prefer the taste of meat, myself, and my gods would agree. She pauses only a breath before another thought strikes her.
Or perhaps it isn't about gods at all. Would you sooner die with your sense of superiority than dirty your paws a bit in the name of survival? Would you watch us all starve so that you can tell yourself you're better than the rest of us savages? She turns away from him, away from the meat. She'd thought Eastwood sensible, but this — this is an ignorance she cannot abide. You wouldn't be. You would only be dead. Dead — what good is honor to a dead man, Eastwood? Her gaze flits back to him briefly, almost imploring, but the look is gone as quickly as it'd come. She will not beg him to see her perspective, no matter how badly she wants him to.

He had no answer to her first question and only stared at her, jaw tightening as anger rose up in his chest. The only thing they could do was hunt what was available, and they had all already been doing that. Still, he would never be okay with stealing; if that meant he went hungry, then fine. And he was willing to live and let live when it came to their 'gods' because it usually didn't affect him much, but to do something wrong because it's what your gods want was just too far. He rolled his eyes and shook his head at her words, choosing not to push more of her buttons by pointing out how ridiculous she sounded right then. His moral compass had pushed them enough already. 

It was, honestly, amazing how she managed to turn this around on him, like he was the one in the wrong here when she was the one who had just stolen. But he wouldn't be manipulated into doing something he knew wasn't right. Everyone is starving right now; we're not the only ones struggling. Can't you, even just for a second, think about how you would feel if someone stole our food, considering how hard it is to come by in the first place? It seemed like all she had done was think about them. His honor was a sore subject, though, and his ears flattened at the mention of it. Everyday he lived with being a natrona. He could never go back home or see his mom again because he was considered a traitor. He already had one reason to be disappointed in himself; why would he give himself more? I guess I would rather die with some piece of my honor still intact than die knowing I was thief. His chin lifted some as resolve replaced the anger in his expression. He would not be swayed, and he definitely would not accept her stolen meal.

She realizes, as he speaks, that Eastwood will not understand. He won't ever try to, and that means it will surely never happen. The realization is upsetting enough on its own — but it is his final words that hit her like a ton of bricks and leave her speechless for several moments. Hurt flashes across her features as she stares at him, blinking once. And then her expression goes blank, and she turns from him without a word, taking the meat with her as she leaves.

The hurt he saw in her expression felt like a knife in his heart. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but he also hadn't wanted to accept a stolen meal or entertain the idea that stealing was okay in any situation. It seemed they were at an impasse, and as much as he wanted to reach out to her and apologize for hurting her, he wouldn't; he just couldn't set aside his morals and be her friend right now. It pained him that there would be tension between them now. He had started to feel like maybe he actually fit in somewhere for once, but this proved that he did not fit in here at all. He assumed the others were aware of her feelings on stealing since they all shared the same religion, and he wondered how difficult things would be for him now that he and Nirali weren't on good terms. It was Drageda all over again—what he believed was not the consensus of the group. Part of him wanted to turn around and leave, go as far as the sickness would allow him and be on his own once more. Eleni flashed into his mind, though, and the thought was quickly pushed away. He was in too deep there, and he knew he couldn't just leave—he couldn't hurt her too. East collapsed to the ground, exhausted from the fight and being sick, his mind heavy with the realization that he may never fit in anywhere.