Rising Sun Valley don't wait for me

All welcome! *lures with cookies* Set at Dawnlark Plains, in the nighttime, as seen on the temporary/new map.

After departing from Duskfire Glacier, Charon ran until he could run no more. Reaching the edge of an open field, he reached that moment where he needed to stop running. The five months old youth slowed to a walk and then he crashed down at the edge of open plains, at a ridge of trees. He was dirty from running for days and he'd been hungry and thirsty by the time he had reached Duskfire Glacier, but now Charon was spent.

Charon rested his head between his paws. His tongue slipped in and out of his mouth a few times, dry from thirst. Charon looked up at the sky for a moment, rolling his eyes upwards towards the clouded starry sky. "I'm sorry, Levi," Charon whispered sadly into his paws, disappointed in himself for being unable to return Kevlyn home like he set out to do, and he closed his eyes. He would take short rest and keep moving home threafter. He just needed to rest his eyes for just a moment...

I couldn't resist >_______> Anyone else is free to intrude/whip Reaper's scrawny butt

Although his mental state hadn't been the greatest to start with, Reaper was slowly descending into a more primal and savage version of himself the longer he wandered. His wide eyes stared unblinkingly ahead, his yellowed and rotten teeth bared as the starved beast roamed the snowy field, scarcely paying attention to anything but the smells that wafted by on the breeze. He hadn't seen another of his own kind for days now. Frankly, he had given up hope on ever finding them again. He only cared for his own needs now. More specifically, the twisting, painful and ever-present hunger.

While the various scraps of meat the dog had stumbled upon were blessings, he longed for something more substantial; something with meat and blood and warmth. A curious scent hit his nose then and, slowly, Reaper came to a stop, pausing in his tracks with his head bowed. He breathed in deeply, anticipating where the enticing fragrance was coming from before swinging his solid skull in the wolf's direction with a malicious grin. Meat.

It didn't take long to find the boy, a dishevelled heap at the edge of the forest, its pale fur glowing in the darkness of the night. Reaper's eyes peered out at it, his one ear thrust forward. Was it dead? No, he could see the steady rise and fall of its chest. Grunting, the creature stalked forward, sizing the young wolf up. It seemed fully grown but lacked the strength of an adult. A pup, then. The mutt licked his lips, drawing closer.

Completely spent for the day, Charon didn't realise he wasn't alone. With closed eyes, he told himself he needed to get up and find some sort of shelter, a den, a cave, a crevice somewhere... Someplace where he wouldn't be out in the open like he was. Especially after what Scarlett had said about the other Duskfire wolves, and how they would rip him apart if they found him. He wasn't scared, of course, but not exactly in fighting shape right now, and he might not wake up in time if any were to approach and try to kill him in his sleep.

Charon pretended that Drake was by his side, even though he knew that Drake wasn't really real. He needed to feel like he wasn't alone right now. "Come a little closer, Drake," Charon whispered to his imaginary friend while he shuffled his paws a little closer to himself. He shivered, feeling cold suddenly because his dirty, unkempt fur did not keep him as warm as it did when cleaned regularly, especially in his current exhausted state.

He didn't even realise that another creature approached.

Hope you don't mind if I intercept (:

The path he struck was familiar to him, for Malachi had travelled this route before. The stretching plains would lead him to the sea, which would greet him in a few short days if travel proved fair. Once the smell of saltwater stung his nose, the young man's work would truly start. Caiaphas lingered somewhere along the vast expanse of rugged shore. He had failed to find her last time, bound by time and a pack that awaited his return. Neither held him now, and this time, Malachi would not stop until he found the hooded ghost. Though he had severed himself from the claim of Duskfire, he remained steeped in their affairs, and would until they found this mess settled. He could not run from the war that brewed, but he would not count the Glacier as his general.

The moon had climbed a formidable height when Malachi finally considered settling down for the night. His nerves strung taut with the emotion of recent days, his thoughts still scattered with the memory of all that had transpired. The young man had never been good at forgetting, and while he tried not to think of those he'd let down, they remained on the forefront of his mind. So when the silhouettes of canines cut a shadow in the stretching field, Malachi's first thought turned to his exiled pack mates. He had been sure he'd set out in a direction opposite their own, and at the pricking aversion to seeing them now his muscles prompted him to turn. But though his body shifted, his gaze lingered upon them, for though he could not make out their finer features, it did not take him long to see that these wolves were not Scarlett and Adlartok. An adult and a youth, no doubt, but there was a way to the adult's movement, uncanny to the way he tracked down prey, that made the fur along the young man's neck bristle. The larger took the stance of a hunter, and before he could let fear push him away, Malachi stole toward the duo with the energy that remained in his weary frame, gathering speed to cover the distance that stretched out between them.

All good with me! :D

The wolf seemed to murmur something, it's soft voice drifting on the wind towards Reaper. The dog froze in place, waiting to see if the wolf had realised it was not alone. When it didn't give any indication, he continued forward, sizing the white-furred youth up. It was kind of scrappy looking, it's coat streaked with marks that showed it was travel-worn and weary. It wouldn't put up a fight. Reaper hadn't the bulk behind him, but he did have the height, as well as the desperate madness that hunger had driven him to.

Yet before he could advance anymore, the dog felt a change in the wind and a peculiar sense of being watched. He turned, red eyes glinting the moonlight as they locked onto a large, dark figure tearing across the field towards them. Reaper stared unblinking for a moment, before it dawned on him. His meal was about to disappear very quickly. Either that or his own life was about to snuffed out. With a guttural snarl, the dog whipped around and charged at the pup, aiming to sink his teeth into it's scruff, wanting to tear and rip at it; grab anything and everything he could before the other wolf arrived.

Charon was too tired to notice any of the commotion going on behind him. He didn't even hear or smell the other wolf's approach. He noticed nothing; not until he heard footfalls approach rapidly through the grass. Charon lifted his weary frame and turned his head, only to see an angry face with outstretched teeth go towards him. He wanted to say something, but it was too late to react.

The only thing he was quick enough to do was turn his face away again. Charon squinted his eyes as he wrapped his face into his paws. He wanted to roll on his back to show his submission, hoping it would save his life, but he hadn't the time to react before his scruff was grabbed.

Charon yelped loudly when his scruff was taken, his squeaks high-pitched and calling for help. He hadn't a clue that there was another wolf nearby who had actually intended to intercept before the dog would reach him. Charon struggled to try and get loose, but he was too weak and young to stand a chance against the dog.

Malachi did not slow when the beast looked his way. Rather he pressed his burning legs harder, for the beast lulled in his attack and Malachi would not waste a second of the other's hesitation on a pause of his own. What features he could see of the beast in the dimness of the night distilled him - a creature too disfigured to be counted a wolf. The young man knew not what he was facing, but the fear within only fired his rush to intercept the beast before it attacked.

But the young man's approach came too late. In a vicious flurry the scene unfurled before him: the feral beast charged the youth, snapping its jaw to make meat of the child. A shrill yelp pierced the air of the silent night, a cry for help, and Malachi felt a twist within, for the image of Adlartok wrote his way onto the stranger's lanky form, and Tuwawi's onto the beast. His throat caught for a moment, his jaw taut, and for a heartbeat his legs felt like giving way. But his adrenaline ran too high, and his paws carried him forward without conscious thought. They met the ground a final time before he thrust himself airborne, barreling at the beast with jaws parted wide at the predator, holding every intention to grasp whatever piece of the creature he could, if only to redirect the beast's efforts toward himself and away from the struggling child.

The child had little time to react. Reaper caught only a flash of weary blue eyes before he leapt and his prey turned it's head quickly, allowing the dog to grip onto it's scruff. A loud yelp pierced the night as the wolf cried out, and the dog growled in response, tugging on the flesh he held in his jaws, aiming to tear away whatever meat he could. He silently cursed, wishing he instead had aimed for the boy's leg or tail — something that could easily be torn off. But it would have been too big of a gamble; if he had missed there went his chance at a meal.

Unfortunately, before he could get anything of real sustenance, the male he spied before had reached them, barrelling onto the scene. He was a lean wolf but still larger than Reaper, causing the dog to stumble to the side and release the boy's scruff as the stranger crashed into him. Sharp pain suddenly emanated from the side of his neck as his attacker's fangs sunk deep. Yowling, the mutt bared his own again, turning to snap at the agouti male's face in retaliation.

there is something about your characters that makes Charon pee, Laur, lmao.

this is my last post, assuming no one will stop or go after him (otherwise pm me). :) thanks for joining guys; I hadn't anticipated Charon running off but it seemed like the most logical thing for him to do when I reached the ending of this post :3 some day malachi and charon should meet again~!

It was as if he had landed into a nightmare; Charon closed his eyes tight and waited for it to end, struggling but unable to get himself freed from the grip the dog had on him. As though through some sort of miracle, the grip on his scruff went away. Charon heard the sounds of fighting and growling next to him. His neck hurt, and Charon wondered if he was bleeding — it certainly felt like he was bleeding. He carefully looked sideways from the corner of his eye while looking at the wolf bravely fighting the dog.

He should do something... anything. Charon instead, petrified, stared at them, wanting to come to the wolf's aide but petrified by the pain in his neck and how very real this situation was. He knew how to tie a pretty knot into a fantasy story, but he didn't know what to do now that things were real.

And just when it seemed that things couldn't get any worse, Charon felt the familiar sensation of shame as pee tinkled onto the grass. Once more, he had been felled by fear, and Charon didn't remember ever being this embarrassed. The indignant shame! What would he say or do if the wolf would beat the monster? And what if he didn't beat the monster?! Charon would be ripped to shreds right after the wolf would be. Who was he kidding? He wasn't a brave knight that felled monsters on a daily basis; he was a dumb kid that couldn't even help the heroic knight that was beating monsters and saving others!

There were two things that drove Charon's next action: the fear that after the wolf would be torn apart by the monster, so would be, and the shame for his apathy in the fight and stressed bladder if the wolf would beat the monster. Neither were things he could face.

Like a coward, the adolescent got onto shaky legs and started to run as fast as he could. His legs were exhausted, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins gave Charon new-found energy. He didn't turn to look back; he just kept on running while tears welled up in his eyes. He felt like a horrible coward and there were many times when Charon considered turning or looking back; but every time, his will to survive was bigger than his shame for not being the heroic knight he told everyone he was.

;D And sorry for the wait! Last post to wrap this up!

While the wolf wasn't as bulky as some, he was still considerably larger that Reaper, and the mutt knew his chances of surviving the encounter were slim if he engaged the male. His jaws clicked together as he snapped at the other's face, missing it by inches. His shoulder seared with pain, fuelling his desire to get out of the situation even further. A hot, acidic scent rose into the air then, causing the dog's gaze to return to the boy for a moment.

The white pup had struggled to his feet and, with a savage cry from his hungry attacker, fled into the night. Snarling, Reaper tried to knock the wolf away from him, who quickly retaliated with a snap at his chest. Stumbling backwards, the dog gave one last growl before turning and tearing off after the young wolf. It was clear he had all but disappeared, though, Malachi had given him time to escape. Reaper's angry cries echoed into the night as he blindly ran into the forest after the quickly fading scent of his would-be meal.