Razorback Ridge SCP-087

Sunlight faded behind the peaks of the mountains. The sheer stone face that cut against the sky also draped the surrounding terrain in a looming shadow. At the base of the ridge, dancing against the oncoming night with delighted steps and an easy sway of the hips.
 
The day had been an easy one for traveling. Gittarackur had scarcely had to stop his trek once he’d entered the flatland of Hoshor Plains. The sun had guided him across that stretch of earth and to the base of the mountain range. He had followed that towering stretch of jagged stone since he’d entered the wilds, but he did not know how far it might extend. Seemed to go on forever…
 
Drawing his gaze to the rock beside him, Gittarackur slowed his pace and paused. His position was high enough to look down at the plains and the short stretch of greenery that surrounded it.

In truth, she did not like this western cousin of Appalachia. She walked in the vast shadow cast by the ridge and watched it flatten then lengthen then transform in a slow molasses creep over the ground that had her antsy and uneasy. The spiral of stomach muscle in her tightened. 

It was almost nighttime and the blue sky was long gone. A bloody slurry wet her chin all the way down to her chest. Feathers were still tangled in her fur. She watched the dark stranger move in a fine controlled lurch down the side of the ridge and disappear behind a rock. 

Hunger overrode her fear of pain and death. She approached him walking then stopping then walking as she considered the emptiness in her stomach and the smallness of the bird she'd eaten and the coldness of winter drawing closer every day.

Darkness cooled the earth and the surroundings of the storm cloud wolf. As the remnants of blue faded from the sky and shifted into an inky sea, the sound of crickets and cicadas could be heard humming zestfully from the foliage and tall grass. The threat of winter should have worried the lone wolf more than it did. It had been several years since he had last been alone for the length of it. None of the scents of the nearby packs seemed to draw him, however. Gittarackur was not so easily impressed by the likes of those wolves.
 
Movement turned the lantern glow of his gaze until it had landed on an amusing image. There stood another wolf with a bloody mess for a face and feathers protruding from their fur. It seemed they had experienced a successful hunt or were searching for something more to eat. Gittarackur searched the other’s figure for a few long moments, taking his time to search the points of the stranger that were most interesting, namely a dark splotch just above the eye.
 
Hideous bitch, he thought just moments before a sugary smile swept his dark lips and he fanned his tail behind him. “Well hello there,” Gittarackur called out in a singsong tone, weighted with subtext that could not easily be uncovered.

sorry for the late reply ;__;

The first thing was that she didn't trust him.

The second thing was that he was beautiful. She thought it deeply unfair.

I aint want nothin sir. I'm just passin by sir. The girl wipes her chin. Some two miles past this ridge the remains of her meal rot slowly in the cool autumn evening or maybe it had already been scavenged by some poor vulture. 

Her bloody shirt dried out forming a crust over her hair. Look at the girl. Those lambent eyes stare the color of burning tongues of natural gas leaping from an oil well. Unconsciously her hackles raise and her face forms the hacksaw grimace of the few moments before a snarl.

Well you're just the most homely thing I've ever seen, the cryptid smiled openly. There was something he rather enjoyed about the quick use of the word 'sir' as though he would spring to life and berate her for her impolite behavior. His first instinct was to assume that the girl was slow. She seemed to have that look about her. Gittarackur loved that look in girls; he knew they would rarely put up a fight when he tried to wrap his arms around their hips and pull them into him. 

Aw darling, there's no need for all that nonsense, the stormcloud purred to her, a lilt of laughter hinged on the ends of each word. He searched what he could see of her figure for any signs of weaknesses, but she seemed relatively good health. Absentmindedly, Gittarackur drew his tongue across his lips and drew closer to the stranger who claimed to just be passing through.

Until today she hadn't known wolves were capable of making such a noise. He purrs and ticks like a machine, a machine that prints out miles and miles of ticker tape. Metallic malevolence made up of clean chevrons that fit seamlessly into each other.

Her voice is closed-off and distant. Through her teeth, I'm aimin to leave. I aint done nothin.

Alarm bells ring dim in her skull. Slow panic building up in her chest and throat like cotton. Her spadeshaped head shies like a horse in charged thunderstorm air. The iron blue dark around her and the sky sprent with stars offers no solace. Yet still her face shines tense and pale.