Sleepy Fox Hollow Down the road

BWP: Your character becomes hunted -- by a mountain lion

He'd stumbled through the mountain-range, and ended up, knees covered in scabs and constantly followed by a cloud of blackflies, descending down toward the hollow. With his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth he panted, overheated from the travel and exhausted from the lack of food. He looked up toward the sun, wishing that it would sink below the horizon faster, so that the air would cool down. He tried licking his lips, but his tongue was very dry- he would need a drink of water soon, and felt certain there would be some down in the valley. 

The world was quiet, for Donnie, who'd never known much more than soft notes and deep rumbling vibrations anyway. So as he pressed forward into the wind, drawing closer and closer to the borders of the pack, he was completely oblivious to the fact that he had attracted the attention of a mountain lion that prowled along behind him, stepping out of sight whenever he looked back.

Anselm was another unaware of the danger that lurked in the woods — but he was aware of Donnie. His patrols of the borders also served as daily retinue of scent; and today, close to the outer fringes of Paleo, he detected another. 

He followed his nose for as long as it would let him. Occasionally he thought there was some other odor mixed in with the damp pinestraw and heady canid scent, but any detection he had was faint and he pushed on. 

An ash-blonde youth came into his vision. Anselm cleared his throat with a low rumble. The wolf was much too young to be an imminent threat, and from his condition he’d been alone for some time — but Anselm kept his vigil.

Donnie lowered his head and sniffed a scent left behind by a wolf not long ago. It was not one that he recognized, and he was too young to realize that it was a scent which belonged to a wolf in a pack. All he knew was that the scent was fresh, and it led somewhere- perhaps somewhere that would be kind and help him find his way home. 

He did not hear the other wolf's vocalization, but looked up suddenly when movement caught his eye. They stared at each other for a moment, but Donnie was quick to turn back his ears and allow his scraggly tail to wave at his hocks. He uttered a silent huff, in greeting, and flicked his ears forward, as a suggestion that he was friendly.

Behind him, the panther shifted and flicked its tail. A young, lanky beast, its impatience cost it some amount of secrecy, as its lashing tail snagged on a branch and stripped a couple leaves away.

Their gaze met. Anselm felt his posture stiffen, but the unfolding of Donnie’s posture suggested he meant no harm. Instinct bid Anslem to stride forward - he did so in careful steps, examining the boy’s scent for a map language of all he had seen, eaten, and been in contact with the last few days. 

His suspicion Donnie was alone seemed correct from the absence of other on his pelt, but where were his parents? He was about to ask this when a snap behind him startled him. 

Whipping his head around, Anselm’s dark nose twitched as he worked through the residual scents of earth and pine. His gaze narrowed - he saw nothing at all in the trees. Perhaps it was a squirrel and he was being silly for being so paranoid. 

He turned back to the boy, the fur along his back settling. Where are your parents?

Donnie's tail whipped from side to side at his ankles and his posture wilted, legs trembling slightly as he lowered into a crouch. He licked his lips and tilted his head back, so he could lick at the corners of the stranger's lips if he came close enough. He felt like he was starving- and while he was just beyond the point of needing regurgitated food, he would beg for it nevertheless, if there was any to be had. 

Anselm turned away suddenly, but Donnie missed the cue completely. He reached out to gently touch Anselm with his nose again, and licked his lips- practically begging with a low, uneven whine. The other boy's mouth moved. Donnie had seen other wolves do this, so he repeated the gesture, and even emitted a low, rumbling noise though the movements of his lips and tongue made noises that sounded simply like a low "Raaaaowraaaowraaowraaaowrrr." It was the best he could do, to imitate the communcation other wolves used. 

The panther remained still, now that the wolves had drawn closer together, and one had seemed alerted to its presence. It would bite its time and watch to see if one of them parted, leaving another one vulnerable.

Anselm had the sinking feeling he was being watched; yet no livid gaze burned from the dark canopy. 

He turned back to the boy as he felt him press his flank, one ear folding as a pitiful noise broke from the stranger’s chest. A growl! Anselm huffed, scanning the treeline once more as he reminded himself he was being overly silly. 

Do you have a name? In Anselm’s estimation it was highly unusual to find a stray puppy (was this how Reyson had felt?). He supposed the best thing to do would be to bring him to Mahler and Wylla; maybe then Donnie could get his fill and be on his way if he wasn’t lost.

The cat would continue to watch. With the wolves close together, and the smell of a pack's boundaries nearby, it began to wonder if this hunt had been a complete waste...But if the smaller, tired, lone pup was sent away, a chance could come up again. And it would be worth the wait. 

The older boy moved his mouth again, and Donnie huffed a small sigh. He wasn't entirely sure what purpose this had, really. He saw others wolves moving their mouths, and it seemed to make them happy, content, sad...Whatever it was about the communication that worked didn't work for Donnie. He worked his jaws again, exhaling at the same time, making a similar "Mwaaaaraaawwraaawraaaa," Noise. Harmless, guttural, and nonsensical. He huffed, and whined once more, nosing at the stranger's cheek, hoping to cue him to regurgitate some food. He even flattened his ears and wriggled his tail hopefully.

For the second or third time, the answer from the boy came in a garbled string of words. Anselm looked Donnie over as if expecting a third eye to sprout from his forehead — he was young but not a nascent, so what was his issue?

Maybe his parents had dropped him at Paleo’s door in light of this defect. Anselm weighed his options. If Donnie couldn’t speak, would he be able to hunt? If they took him in their fold, would he be a burden and an additional strain on their resources? 

Right. Uh. Vell… He tried to remember how Reyson had handled him those many months ago. He bid to turn when Donnie reached forward, nose pressed to his cheek. A surge of an instinctual reflex came over him, but Anselm had nothing to give. Hey! Don’t do that. He chided, forgetting about the “squirrel” in the bush which now pressed closer. I’m going to bring you to my mom. She’ll know vhat to do. Anselm announced, as if the boy processed the capabilities to understand. Come on. It was then he turned his spine to Donnie (and by proxy, the large cat in the bush) and began to walk into Paleo’s heartland.

lol I'm doing dice rolls to see if the cougar makes any moves and for like three turns it was just like NAH.

Donnie caught the sudden movement of the boy's muzzle, and a flash of teeth when he spoke aburptly, and knew that he was being chastised. He chattered his teeth together, and crouched as an apology, discouraged to know that the stranger either wouldn't or couldn't feed him. He tilted his muzzle to the side, trying to understand what would happen next, and when the lean, grey-ticked male began to stride away, Donnie followed. 

So too did the panther, though in its eagerness it brushed up against a hanging branch, and spooked two birds into flight. It scowled and uttered a soft but frustrated yowl; likely giving itself away in the process while it tried to conceal itself again.

Seeing Donnie subdued Anselm’s posture softened, but he set no less a rigid pace. They were scarcely several strides away when he swore he heard a growl — followed by the thrashing of undergrowth and the spooked flutter of birds. 

Anselm froze abruptly. He lifted his muzzle to the wind to scent, but sensed nothing out of the ordinary. His guard hairs rose slowly as he looked about, feeling something unpleasant rake down his spine. Emmerich? Anselm called, his long muzzle turning as he took in their surroundings. If you are there, come out. Quit it.

Donnie didn't know why the yearling froze the way he did, but he followed his gaze with nothing more than somewhat concerned curiosity. Donnie saw nothing, and he certainly didn't hear anything, aside from the soft, distant and non-sensical sound that came from Anselm's chest. He felt his own vibrate in a soft whine, empathetic to Anselm's concern, though he couldn't discern the cause. 

Until the bouquet of green parted, and a tawny figure emerged, advancing enough to come within sight, baring its fangs in a hiss. Donnie had never seen such a thing before, but naturally cowered against Anselm's side as his heart thumped within his chest. Instinct told him to feel fear, but he didn't know whether it would be best to run or keep the animal within his line of vision.

The figure that split from the canvas of green was no Emmerich. Anselm’s blood ran cold as he saw the supine slink of broad shoulder, the insolent smolder of a jungle cat. 

Fuck.

He felt Donnie pressed against his leg, which now scarcely seemed capable of propping him up. Anselm’s head pounded as the scent of cat permeated the air— how had he not picked it up before?

Instinct told him to run, but Anselm was loathe to turn his back to a cat twice his size. There was little time; Anselm threw back his head in an alarm call for all of Paleo before he turned to Donnie and attempted to seize him and run.

Donnie continued to stare at the cat as Andean tilted his head back. He glanced to the boy as if to remind him that this was really poor timing to break eye contact with the panther, but he then heard a faint sliver of sound. 

But it was quiet, distant- nobody else would hear that, Donnie thought. So he pressed his shoulder into Anselm’s, keeping his gaze steady on the cat who seemed content to stay where it was so long as nobody moved.

Anselm prayed his howl would reach the ears of @Wylla or @Mahler, and that they would arrive on swift feet to save them both. 

As he went to reach for Donnie to grab him and run, he slipped — in his panic he lost his balance and fell, suddenly in the worst position to be in before the face of a hungry predator. 

He would scramble to his feet as fast as possible, but there were harrowing seconds where he was inexplicably vulnerable.

The boy moved, and Donnie side-stepped, having been caught by surprise. He hadn’t expected Anselm to try and grab him, but then the poor guy ended up falling. Donnie didn’t hesitate. 

He moved forward too, so neither would be a lone target. He bared his teeth and uttered a odd, strangled growl, as he offered his shoulder to Anselm to try and get him standing up again. 

He chose that moment to be brave, and made a bluff charge- only a pace or two- toward the cat which had had it with the two bumbling boys. It seemed to sense it’s futility, and turned to disappear into the bushes.

cradled in the stone embrace of the sunspire, the hollow was not often plagued by predators. bears knew to wander down into wolf territory put them at a slanted disadvantage. other wolves had tried their luck, only to be rebuffed.
his sons were hardly boys, and since young ages they had accompanied mahler and wylla upon patrols and hunts that ranged further and further afield. 
wylla's time was near, and mahler kept himself close, hardly leaving the bounds of their territory. anselm's call struck a particular and instinctual fear inside the father, and it lent a younger speed to him as he raced in that direction. cat, wolf; the patriarch pounded powerfully past anselm, not noticing the child. dirt clods shattered beneath his paws; his growl poured bleakly around them as he pursued the young feline for some distance.
the long legs and youth of the animal outpaced mahler, but he felt a decisive fear had been struck into the animal. he slowed to catch his breath and returned at once to the young paleo wolf and — a boy.
a sickly boy, his experienced eyes told him at once.
"ve vill hunt it again tonight. i do not think it vill stay so close, but best to be sure." mahler checked over anselm as he spoke, then turned his amethyst eyes back to the child. "vhat are you doing alone?"

Anselm was certain this was it: his life’s zenith come to a crashing close at the behest of a supercat’s supersized conical teeth. 

Surprisingly, he was still alive when he rose — and Donnie was besides him with a brave charge, rallying against his newfound comrade. 

Before he registered the surge of gratitude in the small boy, Mahler strode past. His commanding presence was the final straw to the cougar’s futile attempt at a warm meal — the cat alighted into the woods, with Mahler prowling decisively back. 

Anselm released the tension in his shoulders and greeted Mahler affectionately, stepping back as his father apprised the little warrior. I don’t think he can talk. Anselm intoned softly, eyes upon Donnie.

Onward past the two boys swept a peppered figure, following the sour cat beyond Donnie’s view. A protector, Donnie thought- who smelled like Anselm. Family? Maybe. He watched as Anselm picked himself up, grateful that the panther had reconsidered its plot.

When Mahler came back, Donnie crouched, tail waving. The two shared a look that Donnie understood to be fondness, and he hoped perhaps that they might both be friendly and sympathetic to his situation. 

Mahler spoke, and Donnie tilted his head. He uttered a guttural, non-sensical ”Rowrrrr rowrrrr rowrrrr rowrrrowww,” In response. But his expression was hopeful, and he eyed the corner of Mahler’s lips, as he licked his own. He was hungry- but not familiar enough with this man to beg a meal of him.

mahler was focused upon the child now, the starveling look of a wandering child. he suspected epoch or even tikal, though the latter had moved on by now. anselm spoke of the boy's speaking ability and the gargoyle regarded him pensively.
"vell, ve had better get him fed," mahler decided in that moment, and bent forward to nudge the pup, waiting for the press of nose to mouth corner which would trigger what the stripling needed.

His ears remained perked, expressive in their use only. He signalled his interest when Mahler lowered his muzzle and Donnie scampered forward, eager to lick and muzzle the corners of his mouth with happy, wild whines as he hoped for a free meal.

Anselm stepped back, observing the masterful way Mahler took command of the situation. Someday, he hoped to be like his father -- with a little of Wylla's firebrand schwung.


Mahler stepped forth, cueing Donnie to press to his lips. In that moment Anselm realized how truly scrawny Donnie was -- his fur was rough and lackluster, hanging from a frame thinner than Anselm had seen before. He offered nothing, ears churning as he listened to every sound and scented the wind in case the wildcat came back.

venison eaten not so long ago, laid out in a near-straight line upon the ground for the boy. mahler watched him for a long moment. "er kann nicht bleiben," the gargoyle grunted uncomfortably.
were wylla not on the very precipice of birth-giving, he might have considered the boy. but as it were, mahler understood she would want the resources of their pack to go toward its own children.
"ve vill keep him avhile, stabilize him. but i should get up to epoch before long, or vone of us should. i do not know vhere else a boy his age might have gotten avay. ve should start there."

Donnie snapped up the venison eagerly, tail whipping from side to side. He paid no attention to the interaction between father and son while he ate, though it took him only a matter of seconds to devour the food before him. He scanned and sniffed the area for any trace, lapping up bits of foliage that had some trace of blood left upon them. He felt a pain in his gut as it was forced to expand so suddenly and reached around to nibble at his side as though to relieve the pressure. His teeth clicked together as he preened his fur, flinching at the touch of fangs to his sensitive, arching ribs. 

Nevertheless, he felt grateful for the meal, and while Mahler spoke, Donnie wriggled and pressed his flank against the man's shoulder, tilting his head back so he could look straight up at the man with a wide grin while he licked his lips. Noticing the communication, he looked toward Anselm, and uttered a soft rooo as his contribution to the conversation.

Donnie ate quickly. Anselm surmised this was the after-effect of a boy starved of food. 

His father intoned gravely the lost child could not stay. I vill go to Epoch, Papa. Mahler likely would want to be close - Wylla was near her time, and Anselm itched for more travel. 

He frowned. If they turned Donnie to the woods, the cat could make an easy meal of him. At the same time as heartless as it was, Anselm would always pick family over strangers. Donnie’s soft roo broke the silence that stretched between them all; he would let Mahler show the boy where he could stay temporarily - he did not have the stomach yet to turn lost little boys out into the cold.

I'm going to tidy this up and archive it so it counts for the BWP <3

Whatever idea it was that the father and son shared, it seemed that Donnie was at least temporarily going to be tolerated among them. He panted softly, tail swinging behind him- a happy guest, if he was allowed. After all, the bigger wolf had chased off the mean-looking creature that had been stalking them, which surely meant that he was a kind wolf. He'd even offered a meal!

He yawned, and with that, cued his tiredness. He found a place in the tall grasses beneath the shade of a beech tree to finally sprawl out, and have a good sleep.