Otatso Wetlands give me segregation

Three more days of travel had brought Jethro to a region that he wanted to believe had real potential to be the place where he could find solitude for a time. It contrasted heavily with the grandiose maple forest where he’d met that little guy not too long ago, but there was still an inexplicable, somber sort of appeal to it. The place was dark, wet, gloomy, and muddy.. filled with all manner of odd things, not common to the forests he’d spent most of his young life in. Most might see this as a place that was interesting to explore, and then move on. Jethro did not think this was a place anyone would ever look at and want to call home. Unless of course, they were like him and just trying to be left the hell alone. 

Then, it was bloody perfect. It was also close to that maple forest, which meant he could go back there to hunt at any time he chose. Jethro smiled slightly to himself, pleasantly surprised at the fact that a plan seemed to be coming together. And then promptly grimaced as his forepaws sank, submerging him nearly up to his chest in a cold, gooey plot of muddied ground. ”Nasty shit,” he muttered, struggling a bit to pull his limbs free of the stuff that clung to him every step of the way.

It was damned sad that the mud was clingier and more possessive of him than his family had ever been. Preferable, though. It was much easier to learn to deal with clingy mud than clingy wolves - if those types even existed. They probably did, somewhere, but he’d had the blessing (or perhaps curse) of having been able to mostly avoid them, so far. 

Shrugging his shoulders and letting out an indignant huff, he proceeded onwards, trudging through the mud and brackish waters indifferently at this point, not caring for the mud and debris gathering and clinging in his fur. At least today was warmer than the last few had been, giving him the opportunity to explore and scout for easier routes without having to completely freeze his ass off. Trees and all sorts of other odd fauna dominated the landscape, and he paused at times, to study something or take in an odd scent. What he needed to find, was one plot of dry ground amidst all of this to be satisfied. As long as he didn’t have to sleep completely drenched in the water and mud, that was what he cared about. 

He could deal with that shit during the day if it meant having the solitude he wanted when he went to rest his head at night. 

Having similarly taken shelter within the miry wetland, a stark lupine figure could be seen trudging steadily through the tree-thick bog; Her snowblind coat a beacon in the gloaming. She was strong and tall enough that her gait went mostly unhindered by the gummy muck, but every now and again she would take a surprise dip into some invisible pothole, periodically refreshing the large, muddy bib across her chest.  

Yet, even in these missteps, her gaze did not appear to survey or wander. She moved in a straight line, keeping her nose aloft like a periscope, and seemed to be closing in on a headway. With the wind in her favor, she was following the scent of carrion drowned in the muskeg — otherwise known as a simple luxury for solitary wolves. Her lone highness proceeded with the hungry mien of a wolf far less well-fed than she, even though...

No one would exactly call Paladin “skinny.”

She observed another wolf in her general vicinity, noting his pelt of ashen coal and the sturdy-looking stature he toted, but provided him with little more than a passing glance as she went. The pale gorgon would be no bother to him, as long as he was none to her.

Another few moments of trudging along, he paused, again, to look about. And there, just ahead was quite possibly the very thing he’d been hoping for. A dry plot of ground, perhaps two dozen or so steps ahead of him, harboring pair of trees that loomed over him and a third that had fallen over at some point, its root base having churned up enough soil to create a makeshift cavern of sorts.. which, almost seemed to good to be true.

Jethro closed his eyes tightly, half expecting he was imagining things, and that the sight would disappear upon reopening them, but it didn’t. ”Damn near perfect.” He muttered to himself, trudging forth just a little bit faster in an effort to more closely examine his potential new home. The spot of ground was laden with moss and aquatic shrubs, with a few odd patches of grass here or there, but the important thing was that it was dry. He could hardly believe it. Perhaps fate or the gods or whatever had finally decided to throw him a bone to make up for his usual shitty luck.

The sound of movement, and a white flash, immediately made him regret that thought. Of-fucking-course someone else would be here. A low growl threatened to rumble in his chest as he rested his gaze on the other. A light figure, dirtied of course due to wandering through the marshy landscape - but no less noticeable because of it - chose that moment to appear. She.. was of substantial size and build, he noted, and for a brief the two of them exchanged glances, but that was it. 

No words. No inquiry. Just silent acknowledgment, and then the two of them going about their own business. The white woman seemed focused on something else entirely, her course not indicating an approach. The irritation Jet had felt brewing subsided upon making that realization. A like-minded individual, it seemed, and he felt no need to bother her as she went about whatever the hell her business was. 

With a shrug, Jet turned and continued to plod the rest of the way towards his dry land, grateful, at last, for the opportunity to be out of the mud and water. Perhaps a nap would even be in order, now. Once he made sure white lady was well and truly gone, that was. 

And certainly, she wanted to be well and gone — nothing but a passing ghost in his peripheral — yet Paladin’s hunt abruptly ended while still within the vestiges of his long sight, if he had it. She had gone quite a distance, but not far enough to become some uncertain blur on the horizon; Though it may also not be clear exactly what she was doing.

The pallid warrioress stood back to appraise her find: a mostly buried stag, preserved in thick mud, with only a single antler that clawed towards the sky like some small, barren tree. It had suffered from some uncertain malady or another, and died slow, trapped, having just passed some hours prior. The corpse would have rotted unseen and unused if not for a fickle wind and a smidgen of fate.  

She took the carcass by the horn and tried to drag it, unsuccessfully at first, out of the sludgemire pit. Her spine arched and jerked with the effort, but made little progress by way of uprooting the cadaver for drier feeding ground.

When he, at long last, had arrived atop the plot of dry ground he hoped might become his home, Jethro exhaled a long sigh of relief. The mossy ground underfoot was by far preferable to sticky, gooey mud, and with perhaps just a little bit of work, he could probably make this plot into a more suitable residence. If not, he did have at very least, a place to return to, when he needed a break from exploration. That was more than he’d had, before, and it went a long way towards providing him a sense of pride, however small. He’d accomplished this on his own. Everyone back at home could suck it. 

Recalling the other he’d seen before, he promptly altered his gaze to scan for her. After just a moment he was able to locate her form again and was pleased to see that she had moved well out of his immediate vicinity. But she also appeared to have paused, her attention directed elsewhere, in an examination of something interest that she had found. 

Then, she stepped forth, and the observation turned into a tugging match, between the woman some indiscernible and seemingly unmoving foe. She seemed to be struggling mightily to free whatever it was, although.. so far, her progress seemed minimal. Surely, she wasn’t struggling with a tree, so it had to be something worthwhile.. he frowned. Food, perhaps? Had some unfortunate creature gotten stuck and been unable to free itself?
 
That made the most sense, he supposed. Caught somewhere between his typical desire to remain unbothered and inclination to capitalize on a potential opportunity, Jet advanced as far as the plot of dry land would allow, which would ultimately not amount to much. He managed perhaps ten steps before his front paws were at the edge of the mud and water again and paused there, squinting, hoping to get a better view. While he would far prefer the white one give up and allow him free access to explore whatever she was occupied with unperturbed, he also did not want to delay too long and lose out on an opportunity to strike a bargain.

Decisions, decisions..

Though Paladin’s efforts continued, she had mostly just managed to press herself deeper into the muck, and make unseemly mounds in the earth that would now also need to be overcome. She was not yet ready to absolve herself of this dilemma, however, and after shifting the body only a foot in her desired direction, Paladin gave pause to reassess her tactics.

She stepped out of the pit dug by her own struggle, and half circled the carcass as she looked for a better angle. Observation revealed that pulling him the way she wanted to go was probably the most difficult direction, as the ground seemed the muddiest where she had previously been standing; No significant leverage to be found. A decision was made to dig the body out more, before resuming her tug on a different course, but she paused to check her surroundings, remembering the other wolf.

He was distantly there, watching her, from what she could tell. Paladin felt neutral about his involvement presently, but if he was going to stand there and watch her do all the work, then he had another thing coming if he thought he would get to share before she had spent a few days picking it clean. Unless he had a pack or some buddies to bring down on her, she wasn’t going to share her unearned spoils with some “freeloader.”

Giving her pelt a quick shake, freeing it of the heaviest mud globs sticking to her, the she-wolf went back to work attempting to dig out a meal that she hoped wouldn’t have to be consumed alongside mouthfuls of sludge.

A few more moments passed of what appeared to be futile struggling before the lady ceased her efforts To her credit though, and much to his disappointment, she did not quit. Instead, she only appeared to be reevaluating her tactic, stepping around whatever she’d been struggling with to try a different angle. For a short time, she seemed to regard him again, but aside from that one glance in his direction, there was nothing else. Clearly, she was not one to ask for help, but there was no look as if to ward him away, either.

At that moment, a decision was made, and Jethro opted to start forth again, at a quicker pace than he’d been moving before. He made a conscious effort to move as loudly as possible, signaling an approach so he could better gauge what reaction he’d be met with before getting too close. He sure as hell wasn’t going to feel comfortable getting a nap in with someone else lurking about - may as well go for the next best option. If the lady was going to be hanging around even for a day or two, he might as well try for decent terms with her.

No matter how much he hated others, the idea of developing an alliance with another was not something he could reasonably turn away from. A hunting partner would be especially nice in the colder weather. The closer he got, the better he was able to make out what the woman had been struggling with. And that shit was one hell of a prize indeed, worth the approach. “Stupid bastard. Wouldn't wanna go out like that.” He called out by way of greeting, gesturing to the carcass. Hardly a typical greeting, but a typical guy, Jet did not consider himself.

Sucking in a contemplative breath, he paused, head tipping in an inquiry. ”Split, sixty to forty, your favor?" Direct, and an acknowledgment that the woman deserved credit for finding the prize and beginning to work on it in the first place. Forty percent of the take earned helping her free something he’d never have known was there beats the nothing he would've had anyway.

Having judged from his loud and deliberate approach that he was not a threat, Paladin did not bother to look up from her excavation efforts — until the stranger called out to her. The sullied saltstone withdrew from the trough she had been making and appraised the thick-furred wayfarer opposite her. He was better looking up close: hale, with an arresting gaze of green malachite. And now she was certain that all the grey wasn’t from age.  

His confident approach bade her to give him the time of day. The Dokuga’s blackened tail lifted and waved slowly; Halfway between an invitation and a threat. She snorted, as if agreeing, but only stared at him with half-lidded expectancy in the moments following his introductory observation. Get to the point.

The wolf did not disappoint, to-the-point and venturesome in his proposition. Deal, she quickly pronounced, knowing in herself that she would kill him, without hesitation, should he cross her. Was it wroth the risk? Probably not, but Paladin was instinctively drawn to companionship and did not revel in the least in a life spent alone. That, and her supreme mettle, made it possible to withstand such a flimsy partnership.

One that she had no issue taking control of right away.

Give that side a shove, she directed him, motioning towards the side of the beaten stag that was closest to him. See if it can be rocked over this way, where I’ve dug. The intention behind this would be to free the encased body from its mold, by rolling it onto its side, which would hopefully then enable them to move the dislodged carcass however they wished. Paladin lodged her jaws tight against the deer’s exposed spine, ready to pull as he pushed.

The stranger at first greeted him languidly, making no comment in response to his initial greeting while appearing otherwise unconcerned with his approach. He hadn’t been able to gauge her size before, but now that he could, her figure was all the more impressive. Commanding, with the most astonishingly blue eyes Jethro believed he’d ever seen. The rest of her was probably prettier than all the damned muck indicated, too.  

But all business, this one seemed to be, so there was no point in lingering on any such thoughts. Which was fine, anyway. She accepted the deal without missing a beat, apparently deciding in a moment the aid was worth losing a portion of her find. As it were, he’d probably end up taking even less, as food hadn’t exactly been scarce to this point. This was simply an added bonus, and a decent one, at that. Although, he’d need to take care not to get stuck in this damned shit, as well. He had doubts about whether or not the other would help him if that happened. He would sure as hell have to think long and hard about raising a paw to help her - or anyone else, were they to fall victim to the stuff. 

The woman was quick to instruct him, and Jethro, to obey, which he did with a silent nod of affirmation. She’d had far more time to work at this and assess the situation. From what he’d been able to see for himself thus far, she was on to something. For now, it seemed reasonable to trust her instincts and to follow the directions.

As nasty as the mud was in this particular spot, it would at least allow him decent footing. Jethro appropriated his stance to afford himself the most power as possible, angling his body so that his right flank rested against the carcass. A quick glance toward the woman confirmed she’d taken her place, and with the slightest of nods given to confirm, Jet threw his weight into it, pushing with as much force as he could.

Already well beyond doubting the intentions of her unnamed company, the ironsalt victress fully anticipated their complete and instantaneous symbiosis—so high was her expectation of him—leaving little room for hesitation or error in her presence. Any waffling, likewise any questioning, would have been met with hateful reproach, if not extreme prejudice.

It was, perhaps, fortuitous that they were like-minded, giving Paladin no reason to dismiss him in any regard. Quite the contrary: she was privately impressed by him. The connection was tenuous at best, and almost laughably subject to change, but her tolerance and sheer willingness to share this lot was testament enough to how she viewed him. Typically, in her not-so-humble opinion, males were useless ballsacks, and they would all be in that category—as far as she was concerned—until individually proving otherwise.

So far, so good, for this one.

Her cautionary gaze followed the strapping wolf to his position. Though he sunk slightly too, the ground below had firmed up enough to support them both. Focusing now, she felt the pressure from his staunch push and jerked backwards in tandem to match his leverage.

The wolves rocked back and forth with their efforts, until there was the sound of muddy suction being released, rolling the body over unceremoniously. Paladin’s grip severed, and she fell backwards into the sloshing trench, though recovered swiftly into a stand before giving her pelt a hard shake, flinging silt wildly. Now, the hind legs of the carcass were sticking up awkwardly from the muck, and it became clear that the buck had suffered a broken leg.

Let’s get the back of ‘im and drag it that way, she directed, motioning in a roundabout way to drier mud. She had to shake her head again, to get a bit of muck out of her mouth. We’ll have to get around that swampy patch, there, or we’ll drown it completely.

Feel free to PP them progressing in your next post, if you're okay with the tiny liberties I already took

At the very instant he had started to push, the other began to tug. Her pull was distinct, forceful, and for some reason, that excited him. It wasn’t quite the same thrill as wearing down and killing a living target, but it did require a level of exertion he hadn’t quite anticipated. Only twice did he falter in his effort, for when a bit of progress was made, he would reaffirm his stance so as not to lose the leverage gained. Jethro was fully committed to this now, covered in filth as he was. 

Might as well have bathed in the stuff. But the rush granted when at last the prize was freed from the muck that’d been encasing it was goddamn worth it. He could not contain a momentary grin, with a sidelong glance at the other as she regained her footing. It was rare to work with anyone, even rarer still that he found a sense of enjoyment or thrill in it, but that didn’t mean he’d let her out of his sight completely. 

An assessment of the dead buck revealed the likely cause of why the creature hadn’t been able to escape death; a mangled limb. Assholes, always prancing about conceitedly. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. 

The white one was quick to offer direction again, and Jethro turned his gaze long enough to observe where she’d gestured and commit the path to memory. He did not want to screw this up, not when they were so damned close. A further assessment revealed a small copse of land that awaited just beyond a giant tree, where the ground seemed far firmer. That was their destination then.

“Aight,” he agreed tersely, plodding through the mud to take up a new position as directed. Situating his grasp just below the hock, Jet waited until the woman had chosen her position and hold before firmly planting his limbs in the ground and jerking back at the angle they’d need to get avoid the area he’d previously mapped out. It wasn’t very often he felt he had anything to prove to anyone, but with this one, he felt compelled to put forth his very best effort. 

Her stoic, decisive approach to this was remarkable, to say the least. Although he did not trust her intentions completely, her instincts, and her ability, were absolute. It drove him to leave a good impression, fostering the quiet hope of securing a potential alliance with an apparently like-minded individual that would extend beyond just this one day. He was scarcely aware of the low growls and huffs he made with each tug, pausing only long enough to suck in another breath or to make sure they were on course before he would wrench back again and again. Now that the buck had been freed of the initial entrapment, between the two of them, they were able to tug and guide the corpse back little by little, working around the worst of the muck in pursuit of drier ground. They were more than halfway there.

all good! Likewise, lmk if there's anything here that doesn't jive w/you

 

She was all business. Too single-minded to share sidelong glances or find a molecule of satisfaction in what others might perceive as small victories. She saw nothing to celebrate, even as she felt intense pride for their work. Paladin would spare her elation for nothing less than winning the main prize, and she would never be satisfied with anything else.

Her at-will companion, for all his subtlety, had so far done everything right to dissuade her from dismissing him. If anything, the smoothness of this interaction encouraged her to make something of their partnership. It was not often that she met a wolf of some caliber worth respecting — who wasn’t some blowhard or a groveling idiot — and her slate associate was shaking out to be a reasonable find.

Almost worth as much to her as this meal. Which was saying something.

With the smokehound helming the leg, and Paladin guiding the carcass’ hips, the pair heaved and yanked in tandem, to reveal their prize in all its mud-preserved glory. They dragged it through the thickened muck, leaving a broad, curving trail in their wake. At the end of it, they were able to hoist the body to shallower ground, where the earth had mostly solidified and the imprints they made were now just pawpad deep.

The tug o’ war eased to a stop before a shelf of exposed roots, behind which was even drier land and a thin stretch of grass that cropped up beyond that. It felt like too much trouble to drag the carcass any further. She gave her sodden coat a shake to indicate they’d gone far enough for her.

Paladin, at last, admired their handiwork, letting her dark tail wag readily. She was panting from the effort, but her eyes gleamed with anticipation, as well as approval for his presence. That would’ve taken a hell of a lot longer without you, she smirked a muddied grin. Her word of thanks. Let’s dig in. And without further ado, she trotted ‘round and spilled the creature’s cold guts with glee — digging in ravenously and paying little mind to the company at her side. Welcoming him to feast freely.

With each step backward, each tug, the ground became firmer, and the amount of effort needed to continue moving the muddied carcass decreased. When at last the two had reached a point where their limbs no longer immediately sank into the stuff, his companion seemed to decide that was far enough. Relinquishing his hold as well, Jet took that moment to catch his breath and to examine the terrain he’d found himself on. They’d come across another plot of dry ground, similar to the one he’d been resting on earlier. Perhaps a tad larger as well, so that meant he had options, which he liked. Options were always damned nice to have. 

The white one shook herself off, slinging droplets and granules of mud and dirt in all directions, but it didn’t do much to clear her fur of the stuff. As it were, Jethro opted not to even bother with that much. If he was going to live here, he may as well get accustomed to being covered in the shit. 

There was a wave of her tail and a gleam in the woman’s eye tas she regarded him briefly, issuing an indirect thanks. An invigorating sense of satisfaction worked its way through Jet at that, especially as he glanced back over the path they’d just covered. There was an undeniable truth to those words. He got the sense that this one did not give out praise lightly, which made it all the better, though he did not display the emotion outwardly except with a slight nod and the barest hint of a smirk in return. ”Good find. Appreciate you lettin’ me in on it.” Gratitude and acknowledgment were required here, he believed. Once in a while, working with others paid off, and in this case, it’d worked out wonderfully. This prize had the potential to feed them for a couple of days, he thought, at the very minimum. 

But now was not the time for deliberation. The other did not hesitate to proceed forth and begin her feast, choosing to settle at the beast’s belly, tearing in without mercy, which Jethro was inclined to let her have. Instead, he opted to settle opposite of the other, tearing off strips of the buck’s flesh from along the flank and hip. It was a damned shame that the first bit was covered in a layer of gritty filth, but he wasn’t about to complain. Food was food, and he’d sure as hell been forced to eat worse in the name of survival. Loners had to be opportunistic.