Phoenix Maplewood pieces of eight
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Ooc — Talamasca
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#1
All Welcome 
Indra had found a carcass all on her own, and had not yet alerted Colt to it, or anyone of the gang; she kept the knowledge to herself as she investigated it. There wasn't much left on the bones. It smelled of many things: wolves mostly, and foxes, and she thought she found traces of raccoon there too.

Something had grabbed the legs and pulled them apart from the rest of the body. The bones had tooth marks all over them, and were spread out among the leaves. She grabbed for one of those and carried it in a lopsided manner, as if she had brought the thing down herself and the leg was a trophy.

When she tired of it, Indra threw the leg in to the underbrush and returned to where the rest of the bones lay mostly-assembled. There were horn-shapes where the antlers ought to be, but no antlers. The head was mostly cleaned of tissue. She nosed at it, then playfully bat at the nasal cavity with her paws before her interest waned.
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#2
he followed her scent. the smell of potential meat was a bonus. but he had gorged himself on their findings and was not truly hungry.
he found red in the company of bones, playing a bit. colt allowed her a scant few moments before his hard shoulders pushed through the undergrowth.
he looked back along his own shoulder to ensure he had not been followed, then looked back at her. "whatcha doin', redbird?"
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#3
She parried her claws against the slanted face of the deer's skull. Its jaw was missing. Its front teeth were crooked, giving some indication that it had a birth defect or possibly died after a collision of some sort. Indra didn't care.
The young girl smacked the ground next, bowing to the skull. As she was rising she heard the familiar voice of Colt and froze for a second, then slowly eased out of the play-bow so her shoulders were again level with her hips, and feigned indifference.
Her affect was similar to a cat having been caught doing something by its owner. Nothin', she lied; bashful as she was caught doing something silly and adolescent, rather than useful to the group.
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#4
he watched her move back into the redbird she was becoming. "naw," colt demurred with a cheeky grin. "let's see."
briggs rambled over, pressing his muzzle roughly, briefly against the base of her skull in in greeting. he looked down at the deer bones, at the gaping socket and the crooked luxury bones.
"once the gang, we was in the desert. eerie in the desert. everythin' still at night. not quiet. but different. we come across a whole field dug up, an' dozens of antelope skulls laid out in rows."
colt shivered inwardly at the remembrance.
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#5
When he approached she steeled herself in case he meant to snap, or shove, or do some other corrective thing; instead he touched the base of her skull and it almost felt like a hug, or a draping of him across her shoulders. It was a different sort of closeness that surprised her.
It left Indra feeling needy in a way she couldn't express, once he pulled away to tell his story. It was a feeling the adolescent wasn't used to, couldn't name, and yet found herself craving.
A dozen, she murmured with some awe, as if Colt had included some bit about killing them himself. She pawed at the dirt.
Did you keep any of those bones?
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#6
"four dozen, more like." colt plopped his haunches down to the dirt and scratched idly behind his right ear. "real real scary. 'course i was a youngin then, not much older'n yew." his tongue lolled and he shifted to the other hip to scritch the left aud too.
"an' no, i was skeered enough lookin' at em without bringing a haint along with me!" briggs tilted his head. "why, redbird? yew wanna keep this'un?"
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#7
All those bones, and nothing to show for it. No proof it had even really happened - but she believed it by the look Colt held now. He could've been playing her; she'd never have known different.
This'un is crooked.
She punched the head and felt it give, twisting at the neck with a lurch. See the face? Might've been kicked. No use for that ugly thing. But she didn't leave it yet. It wasn't worth keeping but that didn't mean it was worthless. What's a haint?
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#8
red's fists were hard. colt thumped his tail in approval as she described the state of the skull. "reckon yer right," he drawled. "would fall t'pieces before yew ever left here."
her question took him back to that night, and his red eyes felt faraway for a moment. "a ghost." his mouth twitched. "when a creatures dies unnatural-like, they don't get t'move on, redbird. they stay here, ferever."
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#9
sounds nice, she remarked of the ghost.
it did, though. to slip away from all that was physical, and all the pain and all the troubles of the world, so that you could exist as the very wind, to watch the world and go unseen yourself.
you wouldn't want t'be watched by little ghosty me? but the more she thought about it, the worse-off that idea seemed. indra had no clue what the man got up to when she wasn't around, and could only imagine the scenes she'd witness if he wasn't aware of her.
a small snort followed that thought, and she tussled with the skull again. it adjusted with a few swipes, loosing a front tooth, earning some scrapes by her claws.
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#10
colt watched her paw at the skull, listening to the clack of her nails against the ageing surface. "reckon i wouldn't want yew t'die in such a way that bound yew here, red." his voice fell an octave, touched with something like sentiment.
"don't rightly like to think about yew dyin'."
his eyes were on the scarlet hunter, watching her with a meandering and thoughtful interest.
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#11
she was oblivious to his eye, for a time.
the comments met her ears but didn't land in any emotional way. she didn't feel as connected to her life as she should at this age, nor to her body, which had become more of an annoyance than anything — something to feed and water and care for, when she didn't often have the desire.
indra grew bored of the skull with its crooked grin.
i ain't scared of it, she admitted; the bones, or the concept of death.
figure i beat it enough times by now, but if it gets me, it gets me.
she glances his way, emptily.
y'know? — but she doubted he understood with any depth how jaded she really was, given all she'd been through and repressed.
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#12
colt saw the stone beneath the red feathers. "i know."
for a long moment they sat in silence, him having seen the void in her, and his own answering with all the sucking hunger of a black hole.
red knew. somehow she knew. and how she understood, colt would never ask. but that glimpse beyond her pupils reminded him death had snapped at both their heels. he felt closer to her in this moment, and eventually rose to join the hunter, pushing the bridge of his muzzle against her cheek. "yew got me though. never ferget that, redbird. yer stuck with me."
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#13
he moved in close.
she craved that, always, from anywhere and everywhere; and lately he'd been careful with his attention, maybe because sadey's eyes were always present. they were alone now, and he pressed his luck by touching her.
his promise meant everything.
she didn't move, afraid to disrupt the moment. did she love him? no, she didn't think so. but he had kept her alive, and he was the closest thing to a father or a brother, or anything like that, indra could imagine.
stuck with me.
she tried to stop herself from feeling too happy in that moment, and was betrayed by the flexing of her tail-tip. n'you with me, even if i gotta haint your ass. she jested carefully.
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#14
colt hooted at that, though he was riotously pleased by the confirmation of red's loyalty ot him. it satisfied briggs in a way nothing ever had; it was more than the bond the gang had cultivated with one another. this was only just for them. 
colt resisted the urge to continue his gesture; he pulled away and stepped beyond, stretching his hindlegs one and then the other. "reckon we should get back, redbird."
before sadey got the wrong idea, or they missed out on grub.
he couldn't remember the last time he had called her indra.
the crimson eyes found her face and then colt set off.
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#15
as quickly as he was there, he pulled away.
they shared a look; maybe she saw a smoulder in his gaze, maybe she was confused by the riot of juvenile hormones within her body spelling disaster at every turn. so she looked away, focused on the skeleton.
yes, they should go.
he was already leaving her there — she took one last punch at the skull, listened to the neck bones rattle. when she looked back, she saw his retreating figure and felt a warmth in her chest like her heart was going to burst out of it.
a feeling she would covet, and swallow down. a feeling she might choke on if she let it take over. within minutes she was following him back to camp, the bones forgotten.