Hoshor Plains grinning

the relics; hidden.
snow, blowing sideways.
a single eye burned through its veil. merrick fancied that very faintly nyra had entered his imaginings. he had found an indiscriminate trail which he followed resolutely, near single-minded.

Now more difficult to spot, the wild hares had begun to use their pale winter coats to their advantage and blend in with the shifting snow. One creature, however, was older- and had failed to don its plush white coat soon enough. Spotted and targeted by the voracious young wolf, it was chased this way and that and surrendered with a short, high-pitched scream. 

Fair enough, thought the fiery wolf, as she settled into the snow and began to carelessly rip her meal apart. The world was for the young.

the scream of a rabbit;
merrick was pierced;
he spied another in the wilderness, something stoatlike and slippery. the bearwolf shifted proverbial gears at once from prey to predator, and he kept his low stalk as he approached.

With her muzzle blood-smeared, she couldn't scent the wolf approaching; the snap and crackle of sinew and bone broke the silence in the gap between them. She tossed her head back to swallow a strip of the hare's loin, eyes rolling back temporarily as she tasted its warm flesh. It was good to eat warm meat, rather than scavenging meat that was frozen stiff. 

She nipped at the rabbit's flesh and pulled. A fleck of blood grazed her cheek, passing uncomfortably close to one of her lilac eyes, causing her to squint for a moment. And it was only then that she caught a glimpse of a dark stump in the distance. At least, in her peripheral vision, it looked like a stump. Dark, firm. 

It was only when she threw her head back to swallow another chunk of meat that she noticed the stump had grown. At first, it was given nothing more than a swift glance- but merited a double take when the male's steps caused his shoulderblades to slip and shift between his pelt- still dark and firm, but closer- and dangerous. 

Hastily, she grabbed the last chunk of hare and uttered a loud, guttural snarl. Like a whip cracking she lunged to her feet, hackles flying up as though lifted by an electric current. Still gurgling and snarling she hacked down the last bits with vicious snaps of her jaws until she'd swallowed the last bits whole. Nothing would go to waste- and she'd be damned if she shared any of it with this stalker. 

Thinking she'd outsmarted him, she snickered as she regarded him. One eye, one ear, both obviously lost in a fight...Unnerving. Her laughter caught in her throat, and her lips tightened. "Too late." She grunted.

he watched the blood splatter her jaws in tiny cerise whirlpools. merrick watched her throat bob with the meal; he heard her tittering laughter and examined how like vermin this somehow-wolf appeared to be.
the figure's taut flesh had electrified with a magnificent flex of silkfluff hackles.
merrick's stalk quickened.
"not for me," the madman purred, and then he was snapping upward and left for the lithe creature's shoulderblade — he hoped it would part like butter beneath the hungering bloodthirsty cut of his jaws;
what he wanted was the lavender jugular beneath that tormenting voice and red-flecked fur.

Like blood spilling from a wound he slithered forth, and as though loosed by a tear he breached striking distance uttering words that made Æsilfír's blood run cold. She stole a breath and eyed the yellowed teeth that snapped for her shoulder. 

The fur there was loose, the skin tough but not impervious to those daggers. Her sides would quake with the shock and the vibrations of her growls. And with bloody gums and bits of gristle still snagged between her teeth she snapped at his face- hoping she might hook one of her fangs into that grisly socket where his eye used to be.

his teeth cut and held for a moment;
not since nyra had merrick tasted fresh blood. he thought of astara's skull, hidden in a place where only ursus might know. he considered quite reflectively his current action. it was as if he were suspended outside himself, watching a stop-motion reel of how her teeth sailed toward his empty eye.
old scars surrounded it. that had been his blackbird's gift upon the birth of their children: a warning that even he might have his throat torn out when it came to avicus and aventus. wearily, airily, silently, even idly, merrick wondered where his roguish heir had gotten to.
fangtips clacked against bone. he released his hold with the robotics of the ancient emotionless. blood began to run along the edges of the empty socket. four of six scars, covered again by seeping wounds.
merrick laughed. he tore his skull away.
"show me how fast you go," he urged in a sing-song monotone, shaking droplets from his brow and refocusing the serpent's slitted eye toward his quarry.
she was not nyra.
but she would do for now.

With a jerk, she felt him pull from her grasp and felt the bear's teeth drag away from her skin. Through the heat of fury she felt the warmth of blood seep through her fur, and  tasted it fresh against her tongue. She felt a flash in her belly when mirth caused laughter to trickle from him. His voice reminded her of the sound of wave-worn pebbled at the beach that clacked together under the smash of waves. The sudden flush of energy made her muscles quiver, though she remained rooted to the spot. 

He gave his command so casually that she felt he was the sort who was much accustomed to getting his way. For having obviously risked his flesh before, she thought he spoke now with a fair amount of pride and entitlement. As though it was owed to him that she obey. 

"D'ye boss yer kin around like that too?" She asked. "Ye want me to move," She said, taking a brazen step toward him, readying herself like a snake about to strike; slicker than a shot of whiskey. "Chase me."

her voice was a low-burning brogue that took no notice of the fact that she had been faced with murder. had he eyelids on one side to blink, perhaps merrick might have done that now. his toothmarks rose high and sullen on her own shoulder.
"whatever you want," came the thorny glut of his voice; his teeth flashed again; dance;
dance;
dance on porcelain paws.
merrick found her thistledown eyes with his own single orb of piratic gold gleaming wild in the mountains.
what would she see there now but bloodborne desire? the bear whispered like flames beneath his breastbone.

The demands of the roan were met with the bonesplintering crack of jaws intended to shepherd her into a sprint. She was a creature with instincts- without bidding her legs to do so she sprang into the air as a bird might take flight. She curved and twisted, supple as a gymnist, adrenaline blocking the pain she should have felt. Her shoulder's protests muffled like the cries of a bird in a flock.

Gravity pulled her back toward him like a stone from a slingshot. And rather than give him the chase he'd demanded, she lunged for the heels on his sighted side- just so he could see how she intended to make him join in the dance.

where he was bearmight she was whiplash.
her supple figure dazzled and danced one step ahead of merrick, and then her own needle-teeth were glinting.
the man had not expected her gambit and leaped with a nimbleness his scarred body might have denied. a sputter of cackled laughter ripped from his throat. he landed, tail lashing, and swung in a dramatic arch to her right.
he wanted to see the strain and heave of her feet, the way the flank held the kinetic energy of flight. and the longer he was denied, the more fervent in his madness merrick became.

Her muscles bunched and shuddered with each lunge. Serenaded by his laughter their paws pattered against the cold ground and jaws snapped with the clacking rhythm of a snare. With the lurching pulse of their movements, she found herself lost, dizzied. And without realizing it, her hyena-like laughter joined in with his. 

It did not escape her notice that with each lunge his attempts seemed to become more ill-willed. But the magnetic force that returned her to the earth following each leap seemed to keep her bound to their maddening whirlwind, spiralling inwards.  As if breaking beneath the strain, and willing to chance the repercussions, she jousted once before diving toward him, her shoulder toward his. She wanted to feel that laughter rattle her ribcage and stare into the  pinprick of his gaze.

bloodwant had not yet turned to rage. merrick still did not experience it as she dove closer and swung her body against his. 
the impact bruised him;
blood swam beneath his skin. he sliced his teeth through cold air, hoping to nick her again — to taste — to give.
the single eye flamed counterpoint and contrarian and cannibalistic — his laughing mingled madly with hers and merrick dove again, sharklike, this time not to seize but to drive onward.
a stand of trees stood against the wild earth. he snorted steam from his nostrils and bathed a wound high upon his jaw.

His fangs scythed through her fur when she boldly came so close to him, but he did not seek to grab and shake her like the impudent little wretch she was. He would taste her blood upon his lapping tongue, and it irked her that he'd seen fit to bite her again. She grimaced and snarled, more offended than wounded. 

When he dove toward her heels it was with the brutish intention to herd her forward and truth be told, she was tired from all the spinning, twisting and leaping. She'd noted the scars on his hide, down one of his hind legs. She cackled cruelly- if he wanted her to run, she'd run- but she didn't for a moment think that he would be able to outsprint her. 

She lurched forth like an arrow launched from a taught bowstring, in a line straight and true. She'd be fastest if she didn't dodge and weave- unless to avoid an obstacle- and she laughed mercilessly, believing fully that there was no way for this man to possibly catch up to her. She decided she wouldn't even glance back to see how far behind he might be- and allowed her wicked cackles to taunt him and lure him after her.

stippled heels, delicate hocks; the spiderweb of veins upon the thin skin there and there and there;
she was running from him, a steelbone ribbon ripped from a corset and dancing in an imploring windfall. merrick gave chase. he was only made for sprinting; he breathed upon her right flank but soon fell back.
the bearwolf was created for the long pursuit. 
and so he watched her figure grow smaller and smaller before him — and still onward he moved, following the cunning tracks in the snow.
her voice rose upon the wind;
but merrick had gone silent and prowling in his quiet desire.

She tore away from him and for some time, did not cast her gaze over her shoulder to see how much space her pace put between them. She assumed he pursued, but when she could only hear the rhythmic pattern of her own footfalls for some time she slowed and circled around. 

She panted, the hot puffs of her air draping little veils of mist on the air. The bearwolf was nowhere in sight, and all that followed her were her pawprints. She licked her jowls, and took a moment to flick her tongue over her wounded shoulded. The blood still seeped from the wound slowly, unable to congeal while she'd been running. 

Her head snapped up when she caught sight of the dark figure on the horizon, doggedly pursuing her tracks still. She huffed, as though she'd been waiting ages when in reality, it'd only been minutes. Her knee-jerk reaction was to taunt him for falling behind- but she thought better of it. She didn't want another spar, or to be chased off again. It'd been fun, but she was tired of the game. She was more interested in finding out more about him, than simply being pushed and herded around. 

"Weel, now ye seen 'ow fast I go," She called out across the shrinking distance, lashing her tail like a cat, proud of the mouse it had caught. She kept a wary eye on him in case he decided to lunge for her again. She'd be disappointed if he did. "Roughly, anyway. Better day weeout snow an' I go twice as fast-as-sat," She boasted. "Wot jee call yerself anyway?" Still watchful, tense, lest he make any sudden movements.

merrick drew up toward the other.
the sound of her voice rushed him; it ruined what he had molded into a careful silence.
for a long moment he said nothing. the bearwolf lowered his haunches to the snow, signalling for now that the time of his teeth was ended. "merrick." his voice was chapped with grief, rust-splattered with anger.
the name of ursus hung upon his tongue, but he said nothing. without the explosion of violence or want between them, he saw the figure for what she was: a strikingly marked, heavily accented wolf, but a wolf beyond doubt.
the scent of her blood hung in the air.
merrick licked the last of it from the ridges of his teeth. "do you often cavort with strangers?"

For reference, I imagine her name sounding sort of like EIGH-shul-feer but the way she speaks it so quickly, it'd probably sound more EIGH-shl-frr.

Merrick. Not a name she'd ever heard before, which earned him a shred of mercy, and while it sounded like it should've belinged to a jovial, foolish wolf, she let that slide. Those were just her thoughts, after all. She gave him a nod, and a half-smile crept onto her lips. "Æsilfír." Her name was more breath than consonance. She wondered if he'd try to mimic her accent. She rolled her shoulder dismissively. "Most just coll me Ash 'coz they cannae prenouncet. S'foine." Clearly, it wasn't quite fine but it was something she had to get used to. 

His question caused quite a reaction. Dramatically, she drew her head back, nose wrinkling in distaste. "Cavorting? That wot ye thought that woz? Or that wot ye thoughtche'd get? G'wan witche!" Scolded the haughty girl. "I'm nae hoor, Merrick. Djer Mam nayver teachyer te be p'light er wha? Sakes," She sighed, but with a slight laugh. What an odd duck.

tysm!! <333

she amused him. her voice was a roll of flitting syllables, pebbles beneath the shallow water of a springtime brook.
he eyed the wound he had rent upon her flesh.
"ash." the smouldering of motherblood from a torn throat and open eyes so close so far ago, so close so far so close 
"you'll have to forgive her for me. she wasn't around a lot." merrick's face contorted into a glasgow grin, unappealing and filled with shards of yellowing ivory.
"what do you call it then, if not cavorting?"
he thirsted to dart forward, to seize her, to feel the panicked pulse of her jugular against his tongue.
turn my interest, scheherazade

The hungry look on his face hadn't really changed- and it had taken her probably too long to realize it, but it probably should have been a red flag the first time he lunged at her for no reason. Now, she wasn't playing...But he was still being exceptionally sketchy. 

The comment about his mother's death made her instincually want to apologize. She'd lost hers too, only...And here was another red flag- he was smiling about it. 

She continued to pad through the snow casucally "I dennae. Jus' fuckin' around, it's not colled something,"

one might think he was losing her;
not merrick;
he saw the purple spread of hesitation rumpling beneath her chest like a butterfly.
ah; yes; she had led him here; she was alone.
merrick laughed, an eerie boundless sound. "i'm only your resident madman."

"Madman," She echoed, flicking her chin back with a brief laugh- cut short by the instinctive urge to avoid from bearing her throat to him. She lashed her tail and flicked her ears back in scrutiny. "Yer strange." She said. She was still unnerved; he didn't seem like he was just joking around. She wanted to play it cool, not be too alarmed. Maybe he was just kind of dangerous. Maybe he just liked to put on airs. 

"So where d'ye live then, Madman Merrick?" She asked. Conversation should ease her tension.

if i wanted to kill you, i would have already done that.
"only honest."
merrick gestured to the valley, far beyond them now. "that is ursus."
"we're sort of a family pack." the idea amused him so much that he dissolved into chuckling;
her black feathers spiraled out and around him. "you're not in the market for one, are you?" merrick inquired, teasing, testing.

Normally, honesty wasn't so off-putting but from Merrick, she wasn't reassured. Perhaps he was, truly, mad. He fitted the title like a cloak about his shoulders, as one might burrow into a security blanket. Honesty, she thought, was supposed to make wolves more trustworthy, but she'd never considered that someone might lay claim to their madness as he did. 

Naturally, then, she assumed he was merely putting on a show. He mentioned his pack and seemed to be fishing for her interest. "Ursus, like the bear?" She asked, but didn't exactly wait for an answer. "Wot if I am? Are ye so desperate for more family ye'd ask a rogue like me to join?" She remarked, but her tone was jousting. She meant to be more self-deprecative than insulting. Again, she left little time for him to answer before she continued. "Sure. Show me yer valley, let me meet yer kin, an' let me decide if'n I want to join yer bear-pack, Merrick," She obliged.

merrick laughed. "not so desperate. but we are all rogues there." his face became a little more somber. "each winter the bears choose our valley in which to sleep. when they wake, they are hungry. we live beside them, and we bring food to them. sacrifices."
he eyed her, straightening.
"i'll take you there now," and then he ran off into the snow, baiting her to follow with a sharp, teasing bark.