Razorback Ridge Put me back in my grave

For @Mojag <3

He was still reeling from the vivid nightmare earlier, his body on high alert. Many moons ago, when he had first left the humans, hunting small game had helped calm his mind—much like the way the humans had once used him to soothe their own anger. Now was as good a time as any to fall back on old habits.

Nose to the ground, he searched for scents, hoping to find something worth chasing. The restless energy coiled within him demanded release, and the hunt would grant him that. He hated that about himself.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Viskani would think.

Just as his nose caught the scent of a fox, a twig snapped in the distance. He inhaled deeply, the fox’s scent growing stronger in the direction of the sound. Without hesitation, he moved swiftly to close the gap.

With little preamble, he darted over a bush—and landed face to face with a rather pretty little fox. It snarled at him, and he responded in kind. The poor thing had only seconds to flee but didn’t make it far before the silver male bore down on it.

The kill was quick but far from painless. He despised the part of himself that took satisfaction in the creature’s suffering. Still, the bloodlust ebbed, and his anxieties quieted.

Looking down at the fox’s body, his mind and vision clearer now, he considered its pelt—soft and warm. Perhaps it could serve as a small blanket, or whatever the humans called it, for the newborn at Viskani’s side. A gift. A thank you for allowing him to stay.

There would come a time, he was certain, when Viskani would leave Chandra in the den. The fur could offer the pup something warm to snuggle against in her mother’s absence.

But how?

Mojag enjoyed his time on the road, especially in moments where he encountered strangers. This was the antithesis of how many lone wolves behaved: rather than avoidant and suspicious due to the otherness often felt by those without a home, Mojag was curious and thrilled whenever his path crossed with another. He had learned to be attentive from afar; so when he spotted the dark-capped face of a stranger further up the mountain's crags, he stayed where he was and kept watch... At first.

The scent of fox was a distinctive one. Not only that, but it seemed pervasive to the whole of the wilds. Mojag had found the same scent across the lowlands and hillside, closer to his home territories; and while he wasn't exactly surprised by the presence of the pests, he was annoyed, because it was one of his least favorite smells. Did they really need to piss on everything? Apparently yes.

He was lost in thought about this disdain towards the vermin, to the point that he forgot to monitor the stranger—and so when he caught sight of the silver figure again, it was to witness the squealing death of a small, red body. Good riddance, he figured—and began his approach.

I greet you! He calls out, having picked up the habit of this phrase from Moonglow. Waving his tail behind himself like a banner of friendship, he did not approach too quickly, and gave the stranger ample time to tell him off, if he didn't want the company.

A good kill. Do you have plans for it? He smiled, motioning to the fox that lay dead beneath the stranger's claws. Perhaps a trade could be made, here.

He hadn’t noticed the stranger’s approach, too caught up in his thoughts, and he cursed himself for it. How could he protect the others if he was so easily distracted? Then again, his preoccupation had been for a good reason—so maybe he shouldn’t be too hard on himself. Right?

Dipping his head in greeting, he licked his lips clean of his kill, hoping to appear at least somewhat presentable. A quick rinse in the nearby stream would do him good before he returned to the settlement.

“Hello there.” His own tail raised and waving lazily.

At the mention of his kill, his gaze dropped, and he chewed his lip. Maybe this man could help him. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“I didn’t have a purpose for it at first—it was kind of a senseless kill, really. But its fur is nice… warm-looking. I figured it could make a nice thing to snuggle—” He cut himself off with an awkward laugh. He sounded ridiculous. Hastily, he pressed on. “What I mean is, there’s a young pup who could use it for warmth. Not that I would… you know, use it like that.”

He turned back to the man. “I am Noctaryn. Would you happen to know a thing or two about this? I am…not very handy out here in the Wilds. I come from the land of humans, unfortunately I am very much without skill.”

A senseless kill? Mojag could not fathom that. Anything killed could be put to use, and there must have been something that drove the man to do so—perhaps a latent hunger? Even a bloodlust could be explained, as they were wild things and sometimes the spirit did move a wolf to chase. Of course, people often grew out of such behaviors—maybe this man was a younger one.

Mojag looked to the fox as the man spoke, understanding that it would make a fine pelt and being reminded immediately of his sister, Ajei, who could work wonders with it. Then named Noctaryn then asked for assistance, and Mojag tried to pull from his memory anything that might be of immediate aid.

There is nothing wrong with the pursuit of comfort! He answered, noticing the way the other wolf tried to cover his truth.

He had not learned much about furs, really. He could recall being a very young boy, and being given over to Kukutux from time to time, or one of her daughters, to be minded while his mother hunted, or patrolled, or worked; this was before Ajei. He knew furs needed to be chewed, and that was often a good job for a teething child.

Are you a patient man? It takes patience as well as skill to pull the fur free. I know that after, if soaked and let to dry, it can be worked in to something—but it is the initial removal that takes the most time. He is thoughtful as he says this, roaming down a memory in his mind. Then, he offers: I have a sister who is exceptional with furs.

Perhaps if this stranger did not want to do the work, something else could be arranged. However, Mojag would not fault a person for wanting to learn things for themselves.

He gave the stranger a hearty laugh. He spent years confined in once space, awaiting the moment he could be free from his captors. Yes, he could be quite patient. 

Especially since this is meant to be for something good, sweet.

“Yes, I could be.” He then considered the offer of a sister’s skills. He would not leave Viskani and child—not because they wouldn’t be protected in his absence if he met this sister, but because he would feel the their absence. He couldn’t fathom it. 

So, he shook his head apologetically. “I cannot leave to meet with this sister, nor could I have her come here. Not now.” He rushed into his next words. “To be honest, I just want to get this to its intended much sooner. I would take your advice, expert or not.”