you'll feel it in your heart, but not for very long

AW, dogs & wolves alike! set for early dawn, 2/1 on the borders of SC

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It was hard to travel undetected -- not in the swollen group they currently composed of -- and as Dogmeat pulled closer to what appeared to be frequented territory, his brow furrowed in concern. The scents that interlaced were inu, but certainly not any he knew of -- their scent thick as it accosted his tender nostrils. It troubled him, these unknown creatures -- the bid of his existence had been entirely behind bars and here was something well beyond his sphere of collective knowledge. He instructed those with him to hang back, trusting @Outlaw or @Spectre to contain any curious outburst that followed.

He rifled then through heady and damp pinestraw, snuffing as one thick paw lodged itself into the loamy earth. Somewhere under the thickly rotted foliage was an old and long forgotten cache, likely of a fox's dominion -- delighted by his find, the male dug excitably into the cold earth.
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Outlaw had followed the man who seemed to be in charge. Outlaw would've liked to be in charge, but he respected Dogmeat, and it took a while to rise to king. He obediently stayed back when Dogmeat told him to, although he sniffed curiously at the borders. Other dogs were here. But they smelled.. Different. More wild, more stinky, (despite how bad the dog's themselves smelled,) unless you thought blood smelled really bad. Cause most survivors were still bloodied or bruised in one way or another. Outlaw was rather lucky, except for his injured foot and a few bruises. The foot was not the worst source of pain though- Railroad's death was. You can't mourn forever. He watched as Dogmeat began digging. Outlaw wanted to help, but instead following his command, the teenager stayed back.

/trapezes in

Still suffering from his mild concussion, Reaper had spent the hours following the crash in a haze, appearing distant and aloof. It was a strange state of mind, compared to his usual tense and paranoid condition. Though, slowly, he was somewhat coming back to his senses. He had been staring at the wide open sky in intense fascination as it lightened and went through an array of different colours before a movement caught his eye and he turned, watching as the burly male who had freed him from the leather muzzle and had taken upon the role of leader parted from the group.

The mutt moved past one of the younger dogs and followed after him at a loping gait, occasionally stumbling upon the unfamiliar ground. This new world was still very surreal to the boy, and the reality of the situation — that they were finally free — hadn't quite sunk in yet.

The scarred man was eagerly digging into the earth when Reaper slunk towards him, though still hanging back like a shadow and watching on curiously. However, his unfocused gaze drifted up to the surrounding area every so often, alert and watchful for any trouble that could possibly find them in this strange, foreign place.

Dogmeat was quite right. Spectre was content to hang back with the rest as the older male walked ahead, but he was not happy about the scents currently assaulting his sensitive nose. He watched as the disfigured beast nosed through the undergrowth until stopping at a spot in particular. Outlaw, of course, was right on his heels with Reaper (at least he thought he was remembering correctly) close at hand. It was now that the spaniel looked away and set his attention on their immediate area and even beyond. His long-haired ears twitched and swished as he kept his watch.

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Sorely but surely the thick-set male worked the earth, broad limbs extracting stone and sand and russet clay with broken seedy roots crumbling. With a groan that announced the pains that troubled him, Dogmeat's muzzle fell to the ground and pulled forth from the wet soil the rotted corpse of what appeared to be some sort of bloated animal - cervine or otherwise.

It was a scarce offering, this overripe limb with skin feculent and spoiled -- but it was food. Dogmeat shouldered the appendage and the bones that followed it, carrying it over proudly to the three. The three of them would have to figure out their placement and the order in which each ate, but for now Dogmeat limped back towards the hole in the hopes of uncovering anything further from the tepid earth.
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Outlaw cared little for eating order, but if there was one, he disregarded it. Without a care as to whether or not they ate, Outlaw set into his first wild food. It was strange... But way better than medications or little pellets or testing things. He began to eat a bloated leg. Blood got on him, which freaked him out, but he licked it up. It was sweet and not too bad. Quicker now, Outlaw was more eager to eat this new kind of food. He would quickly adapt to at least one new way of the wild.

Dogmeat quickly unearthed what seemed to be some sort of rotting creature, his powerful form tugging it from the frosted ground before dragging it over to the three dogs who had gathered. Reaper turned to look back at the group, the spaniel in particular, studying his bright orange collar before returning his gaze to the apparent feast the scarred man had brought for them. Tentatively, the mutt approached, ears pricked as he stared at the carrion. It wasn't anything he had ever seen before. The smell that emanated from it, too, puzzled him — a mixture of earth and blood and rotting flesh and...something else. Something familiar but also different.

Though, it seemed the scents didn't deter some. The young collie started forward, eagerly tearing into the flesh. Reaper took a few more steps toward the corpse, touching his nose to its flank and bearing his teeth slightly as the putrid smell invaded his senses. He looked over to the spaniel again before turning back to stare at the other scruffy dog, gauging his reaction to the meat to see if it was safe or not.

last post from DM. whoever posts next, would you archive please? ty

Dogmeat felt exhaustion creep upon him as he dug through the slush. It was not a kind exhaustion, nor the fatigue that visits you after a long day. It was not the weariness a warm blanket would absolve, nor the spent feeling one encounters after a colossal effort. It was an ugly tiredness, a seeping tiredness -- the long and gaunt and worried tiredness that depleted the soul and abolished hope from the heart.

He gave up with a grunt, shoving forth from the dirt as if spurned by the earth. The brute stalked irritably away and slipped into an overhanging thicket to nap before his exhaustion caused him to wrongly snap at another.