Porcupine Ridge outcomer

@Summer

The rocky ridge was dangerous enough for most creatures. Kierkegaard had taken in to account the vast expanse of jagged stones and crumbling fixtures and had decided that it was not in his best interest to attempt to scale the rough stretching ridge. Kierkegaard was not a wolf without risk. Oftentimes he was careless and thoughtless in his attempts, but he was also very aware of his limits. The ashen male had been inside of the Teekon wilderness long enough to know that there was danger there, even in the landscapes. And he remained a loner. While he was used to the lifestyle, it meant that he was lacking in prey animals, and his strength was diminished. If he had attempted to scale the rocks of the ridge, the likelihood that he would fall to his death was far too high for him to risk it. So, he took to the ground and the lower surfaces along the base of the ridge. Leaping across a small gap between flat stones, Kierke landed with a quite huff of breath. His gaze lingered on the stretch of terrain at his front and he breathed a heavy sigh. In the air, he could taste the scent of a nearby pack, but he was certain that he had managed to evade its borders well enough. He was an outcomer to those lands; someone who was nothing more than a passing stranger. While Kierkegaard had never been interested in a pack life, he did wonder what had drawn all of those wolves to the Teekon wilds. Lowering his head, Kierke prowled forward and settled his gaze on a young mountain goat, desperately attempting to scale the harsh ridge. He was not certain that he could handle taking the young prey animal alone, and silently wished that his sister had taken to traveling with him.

Summer had been tracking the goat for a while. Probably longer than an older, more experienced wolf ever would have needed to, and yet there he was, prowling along a ledge high above the innocent creature when suddenly he realized that he was not the only one with his eyes set upon it.

Eyes of bright, golden sunlight flashed against a silhouette of darkness as the young wolf turned his gaze upon the alabaster stranger. These ledges were treacherous, he knew, but he also knew somewhere within the haze of his unhinged mind that his pack's need was greater. The poppies made him feel as though he were floating, though he wasn't so far gone that his senses weren't fighting tooth and nail to keep him glued to the ground.

A slow nod was given to the stranger who owned those orbs of smouldering cinder. Summer was willing to work with this wolf in order to accomplish their similar goal. He wasn't so high that he had any intention of claiming this kill all his own when all was said and done. He knew still that they would bring it down together, and thus it would equally belong to them both. Half was better than none, and the young Ostrega was eager to give the Spire at least that much.

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The sight of another wolf did not necessarily surprise Kierkegaard. From the looks of it, the ridge would prove to be a good source for hunting. His bright optics fell on the dark-furred stranger, and took note of the invitation to hunt, which had come in the form of a single nod. Drawing his salmon tongue across his chops and then focusing his attention back on the struggling young mountain goat, the ashen loner felt far more confident that they could land the catch. Already, the prey animal seemed to be having an awful time attempting to scale the rocky ridge. If the two wolves remained swift on their feet, they would both be feeding. Taking a few steps forward, Kierkegaard kept the young goat in his line of sight and tried to remain watchful of the dark stranger as well. His lengthy strides moved to close some of the distance between him and the prey, but he did not want to startle it too much or else they would lose their coincidental luck. Moving to circle around the alabaster mountain-climber, Kierkegaard watched the swarthy wolf. He needed to know this stranger’s next move in order to adjust his own.

The unknown white wolf acknowledged their agreement without word or motion, yet Summer sensed it and acted without question. As the stranger crept forward, so did Summer, but with quicker steps that took him further ahead of the young goat. It wasn't too hard to do considering their prey seemed inexperienced in such terrain. Summer's father, in the time that he'd had left with his son, had trained him how to hunt in all types of conditions. All Dhani had done in his time left with his son was to teach him how to survive, and thus Summer was far more equipped than many his age to do so.

With the wind in their favor, Summer danced ahead of their quarry to place himself directly above the creature's path. His eyes scanned the cliffs to land upon the white wolf, trying to communicate with him what his intentions were. Either one of them were poised to scare the goat straight into the other's waiting teeth. The Ostrega would wait a few moments to see if the other wolf made a move. The goat was giving them plenty of time to decide silently amongst themselves as it meandered nervously along.

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It was wise for the younger wolf to take higher ground. If the mountain goat attempted to flee, the odds were high that it would attempt to leap further down. Kierkegaard’s strides would be able to close the distance between himself and the prey animal in a matter of moments. If it ventured upwards in hopes that it could escape, the dark-pelted wolf would be there waiting. Prowling forward swiftly, Kierkegaard’s shoulders rolled like a massive predator. His vibrant gaze darted towards the swarthy stranger. They were both positioned well; it only came down to who would make the first move. Blinking twice, the ashen brute bobbed his head to his hunting companion in hopes that he would make the attack. Kierkegaard prepared himself to fall in quickly. His brows were furrowed and his lip was reeled over his long canines.

It seemed that it would be up to Summer to make the first move. That was just fine with him. Likely it was the safer route as well, since Summer could take the time to make the drop carefully instead of his move being dictated to him by whatever erratic action the goat took.

The nervous creature was only a couple of yards away from where Summer waited by then. The boy knew that the white wolf was in position, and as the goat pressed itself against the face of the mountain to take a breath, Summer knew it was time. He leaped down from his perch to land squarely upon the rocks in the goat's path, his bright yellow eyes glowing with ferocity. On silent paws, he darted towards his quarry as it scrambled to turn and run for it--unwittingly headed straight into the other wolf's path.

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The ashen male watched with a careful eye as his darker companion took to the rocky slope and positioned himself above the young mountain goat. Fixing his gaze on their prey, Kierkegaard waited with taut limbs until the sooty young wolf dropped from his perch and startled the goat in the opposite direction. Rolling his broad shoulders, the loner lunged forward at the startled prey animal and snapped his jaws threateningly. The creature’s eyes lit up with fear and he opened his mouth to let out a muffled cry. The goat was trapped between the snapping jowls of two predators. Kierke could only assume that the darker wolf would be behind the young animal within seconds. With a deep-throated bark, he pushed himself closer to their mark. His aim would be to close the distance between all three of the animals. If he could take the goat down with the other wolf – at a close enough time – it would mean a lesser chance for injury, and a higher chance of success.

Summer prowled forward along the cliffs, driving the goat further towards where the other wolf waited. When the white beast broke his cover and caused their prey to stumble, the boy froze, sunlit eyes darting between the two creatures before him to map every move. The stranger snapped at the goat, striking deeper fear into its heart. A snarl continued to rumble from his own chest to further the goat's panic. A panicking animal was a stupid one, and Summer was banking on that stupidity to work in the favor of the hunters.

The Spire wolf bolted forward suddenly just as the other wolf did, swiftly closing the distance between himself and the goat. The animal turned to run itself, but all directions meant death. It seemed to choose the death that would mean that its body wasn't desecrated by the hunters as it sprang towards the edge of the precipice. Summer lunged at the same moment, snapping his jaws upon a flailing hoof. He whipped his head back towards the wall of the mountain at their side, the goat's body flying right along until it smashed against it and fell, bleating frantically back upon the ground. Summer skidded to a stop as it scrambled for footing before he collided with it, not wanting to lose his own balance and plummet down into the lower peaks.

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They moved like two machines, operating on the same wave-length. Kierkegaard was impressed by the younger wolf’s ability to understand and react appropriately to the panic-stricken goat. Good hunting partners were hard to come by. Watching out of the corner of his eye as the young prey animal darted for the edge of the cliff, Kierkegaard too moved to prevent it from going over. It was in this move that he felt his hock quiver and erupt in violent pain. The bite mark that had been scored down his leg had sprung open in his rapid movement and he found himself frozen in place, his canines bared and his golden eyes rolled up towards the cloud-spotted sky. Luckily for the both of them, the dark-furred male had managed to grip the hoof of the goat in his jaws and had successfully thrown the creature against the face of the rock, immobilizing it for the time being. Kierkegaard, pushing through the excruciating pain in his hock, made a staggering move to dart to where the goat lay bleating and wrapped his jaws around the creature’s neck, shaking his skull violently back and forth until the young animal ceased to move. With heavy breathing, the ashen loner turned his gaze back towards the dark youth and nodded his head to the creature, a quiet gesture of thanks for saving their meal. Blood was trickling down the back of his leg, his wound having been torn open wider by his reckless movements in the heat of their hunt. Kierkegaard did not want the black-furred wolf to catch sight of this weakness, however, so he turned to adjust his body so that his hock was facing the rock instead of the golden-eyed stranger. The pallid Sairensu male was a wary beast. Even if the other wolf meant no harm, Kierke could not afford to have his weakness exploited.

Summer watched the scene unfold with intensity in his bright sunny eyes. He was well aware that his part in the hunt had come to an end, for any further movement in his current state was likely to either lose them their kill or lose him his life. Luckily, the strange white wolf was swiftly upon their prey with a murderous blow.

The boy caught his breath as the deed was done. His attention was pinned to the stranger, even knowing it was their prey he ought to have been giving his attention to. Though they had successfully made the kill together, there was little trust between them. As way a beast as this alabaster male was, the ebony wolf was just as much so. He eyed the man as he stepped back and looked upon him, the same amount of wariness in his gaze as Summer held for him.

For a brief moment, the Ostrega was stricken with the impulse to attack and drive this white wolf off so that he could take this kill in its entirety back to his pack. He knew he could do it--his elder the stranger may have been, but they both were tall and strong, even at Summer's less advanced age. He held himself back, however, knowing they were not on the most convenient of grounds for him to attempt this heist. The terrain would force them to share more than propriety, but Summer would wait to see what move this golden eyed beast would make first.

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There was a fleeting moment in which Kierkegaard actually believed the dark stranger would take advantage of him in his injured state. The ashen wolf stood looming over the goat with a savage expression on his blood-spattered muzzle, and his chest rose and fell with heavy breathing. The pain was substantial in his hock, however Kierkegaard knew the risks of allowing a pack wolf witness the injury of a lone wolf… even more so around fallen prey. The dark youth had others to worry about feeding. The Sairensu male only had to worry about himself. Still, Kierkegaard was feral to his bones. He had no reason to hold himself back if the inky creature should have attempted an attack, though he was at a severe disadvantage. Canting his head back towards the fallen prey, he allowed the hackles to settle along his shoulders and spine. The pallid monster knew that he could not have afforded to lose his meal due to his own savage ways. Drawing his tongue across his muzzle, Kierkegaard flashed his gaze back towards the darker wolf and gestured with his head and a sweep of his muzzle for the stranger to take his pieces of the kill. His only guard would be to wait until he saw what the darker wolf was aiming to do. If he was wanting to fight, Kierke would not turn tail and flee without a final stand. If he was willing to simply share the meal they had captured together, the ashen loner would settle for that as well. Again, the ball was in the other creature’s court.

Last post for meeee! I frickin' loved this thread :D

The dominance that flowed powerfully through the Ostrega's veins swelled as the white wolf backed off from the kill and allowed him to make the first claim. He felt the hackles raise upon his spine--not threateningly, but assertively. He stepped forward over the kill, his eyes never leaving those of the lone wolf's until finally that first tense moment had passed and he turned his attention to taking his part of the kill.

Although his fiercely protective instinct over his pack drove him to want to take the entire kill back home to them, a part of his sensibility he could only attribute to his mother's kind, sweet heart drove him to pull apart the goat in a way that left the strange wolf with more than his share of the meat. Summer stepped back, his part of the kill dangling from his gore-smeared jaws. He gave the man one last assessing look, passing between them a mutual understanding of one another, before he turned and darted like a shadow across the cliffs, back towards his home and quickly disappearing into the darkness with which he shared his pelt.

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I'll get it archived! It was the perfect Kierkegaard thread, if you ask me! :D <3

Their moment of potential hostility seemed to fade almost as quickly as it had arrived. Kierkegaard did not want to step aside for the dark wolf, but he had allowed the inky fellow to take his share first. It left no room for mistake. The loner was still favoring his leg greatly, and knew that he would not do well in another fight. Watching carefully as the yellow-eyed male grabbed his cache and glanced towards Kierkegaard with one last – wary – expression, the male then darted away from their kill to leave the rest to the ash-furred male. The Sairensu wolf watched with disinterest as the dark stranger faded into the shade, no doubt to return to his pack. With a heaving sigh, he turned to the remainder of the kill, flicking his tongue against his muzzle hungrily. There was certainly more than enough for him, and he was eventually forced to leave the remainder of it on the cliffs for the next passerby. With all that he could pack, the grey-furred monster limped in the direction of his temporary home on the ridge.