A massive wolf had traveled deep into the human ruins early in the morning, and the usual noises of the birds and the insects had ceased with his passage. The gray and brown creature had searched aimlessly through the dark corners of the decrepit buildings, a slight tinge of desperation in his dull eyes. He did not know what he was looking for, only that he couldn't find it. Perhaps it was answers, or more likely just for the bad feeling to go away. He didn't know why, but he had felt bad about killing the last one. Not all puppies seemed bad...even though he knew they were in his head, he couldn't make himself believe it. They were cuddly and nice, sometimes. But he had killed them, anyway. The taste wouldn't come off his tongue no matter how much he drank, and he would see them no matter how hard he closed his eyes. He had gone a day without sleep...he was afraid to rest because of a bad dream in which his mother wouldn't stop getting big and having babies, and he was getting big because he was eating them all, and she was crying, and he was crying, and his toes were sticky with their blood, and his whiskers were slicked down, and...
He just needed to do something, to get up and move. To look for anything that might take his one-track mind off of his nightmare, off of the taste, off of the sights, off of the thing that bothered him more than anything else in the whole wide world. Why couldn't he stop thinking about what he'd done? He couldn't live in Nowry Village anymore. He couldn't live with Osric and Hylfi. He couldn't live here anymore. He couldn't be friends with Maz anymore! He knew it was true. He was a murderer, a bad person. But he got so scared and so upset when he saw children. He hungered after them more and more, and even though words were hard and confusing, he wanted them now, because of what he did without them. He thought being alone would make him happier, but this time it hadn't...the bad and confused feelings hadn't gone away, they'd only gotten worse! He liked Cwmfen, and hated her, and no matter what, that kept gnawing at him, and dredging up everything else. With these new developments, he couldn't bury it all, and now it had no where to go.
His yellow eyes showing true emotion for the first time, just beginning to break through the glacial shackles of his own compartmentalized mind, he stared forlornly at the strange stones the humans had erected in the heart of their city. He couldn't read, so he didn't know that it was a cemetery. He had looked through their earlier, since some of the stones were tall enough to hide things, but nothing had claimed his attention long enough to help him forget.
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Sorry for the delay—I had planned to have this up earlier but I got busy. And I’ll put Cwmfen down in lupus form, unless you want to have her in optime? Poor Brennt and his dreams, OnO
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Upon four legs the Adonis traveled with an ephemeral silence and stealth through the woods of Arachnea’s Revenge. She was determined now, compelled more than she had ever been. She was thus compelled because it was not her life but the lives of her packmates that were on the line. Not all could fight battles, and Corvus’ brutal and merciless attacks would not stop. Ezekiel, Onus, Slay, Tokyo—they had all suffered for her. And now Ril’o had paid with his life. So many, her mind whispered incessantly. As the Warrior, was it not her duty to protect these creatures? Each time the attacks had occurred at the boarders or within some unclaimed territory. She could not request that all wolves remain within the territory, especially because she did not know who the next target was, even if there were to be another. There would be another, she thought suddenly. I’m next. She knew it with a certainty. Silently her form slipped along the shadows of Halifax city, her mind permitted to linger briefly upon the vigilante that lived here.
And now she had received word from Phoenix Valley that Brennt had killed a pup. That was dangerous news. It was dangerous now for Brennt more than ever. And the woman, while she searched for her father, searched also for the yellow eyed predator. It was unfortunate that such a natural creature had to be killed. The woad warrior truly believed that. But he had failed to learn the laws of society. Why did he come here, she wondered suddenly. There are so many other places filled with loners and their pups. Would he not have found enough food there? The woman recognized as well that her thoughts were viewed as wrong within these lands, that she was technically wishing ill will upon the lives of others. But who else would control the population? Bear and cougar attacks were rare, as were the deaths from hunting accidents. Was this yellow-eyed creature not a control of the cycles of nature? Nevertheless, Brennt had attacked one of Dahlia’s pup, and she sought him now.
The black fae paused, lifting her woad bound maw to the air. It was strange. It was strange that she had only just been thinking of him and now she had found his scent. A soft growl sounded in her throat. He was close. The warrior’s pace slowed to mask the clicks of her claws against the slowly crumbling concrete. She followed the trail, lowering her maw occasionally to make sure she was on the freshest. And then there, ahead of her, she saw him. He was within that vast cemetery, simply sitting, simply alone. There was something strange, she thought, about the predator this time. The woman paused. Perhaps some would have commanded that she attack at that very moment, to gain the upper hand while his attention was elsewhere. But such a thought never crossed her mind. She would make her presence known and formally challenge him to battle. It was the only way. A warrior could not attack one who simply stood in passivity.
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OOC: I figured we should get it started before Dawali came in, Marit, let me know when you want to come in, otherwise I'll pm you at a good time?
Her scent came to him suddenly as the wind shifted. Brennt stood, and turned around, his dull yellow eyes searching hither and thither through the landscape obscured by headstones and crumbling foundations. Soon, he saw the black female from before. The one he had fought twice. The one he had loved once. The confusion melted away from his mind, the words seemingly sloughed off, and he was the predator. In her presence, it could emerge very quickly, now. It was the same person as Brennt, but without the confusion and uncertainty of words, its confidence and competence were much higher. It knew that it could stand against her.
In their last fight, it had fared much better than in their first. She had been ravaged very nearly as badly as it had. It had managed to survive on its own afterward, a testament to its resilience. It had fought her twice, now, and had learned quickly how best to combat the smaller, more experienced and skilled black female. It had fought many wolves since coming to this place. The predator's ability to count was vague and subconscious, what it might need to keep track of prey animals or pack members, and so it did not have a running tally of its battles. If it did, it would have known that it had fought fourteen times now. It had won and lost, and knew how to deal with either situation.
Nonetheless, it was uneasy around the black female. It knew that its chances of defeating her were greater now than they ever had been before. Judging by its last run-in with her, however, even a victory would come at great cost. It had smelled others seeking it out. If it killed her, they would find her, and know for certain that it lived here, and never move on. More importantly, it might be too injured to protect itself or run away. That was the concern which made its choice for it. Confidence aside, the predator had no pride. It valued its life above the black female's. Had Brennt been more intelligent, he might have guessed that his confusion over her was the cause of much of his grief. Killing her might very well have been the best way to fix his breaking mind. Instead, without words and in a state where he couldn't even comprehend his own name, he turned and ran, streaking down a row of headstones, and vanishing behind a row of taller ones. The predator would try to escape.
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That’s find with me~ And sorry for the wait! OnO I was busy all day. I hope it’s okay if she nearly catches up with him? – slight pp with it. PM me with anything you want changed/played out differently, ^=^
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He saw here. Those yellow eyes turned to behold her and she saw not Brennt but the more threatening predator. The warrior’s body shifted, although she appeared to be still. It was those silent, imperceptible changes of stance and of mind that prepared her for an attack. Her senses grew alert, those white eyes sharpening as they focused only upon that single wolf, placing everything in her peripheral. The tail waved silently behind her, brushing away the needless tension that always built up before a fight. There would be a fight—or perhaps not today but another day—she could feel it in the air. The intensity of her gaze was unwavering as she met that gaze with silent challenge and calculation. She knew, as she had told Dawali, that he learned quickly. Already, their first battle differed greatly from their second. And fighting him now, if she failed to kill him, would be dangerous. Perhaps she would not make it out alive this time, or perhaps the next time. But the warrior did not fear death, nor did she fear this male.
And then he ran. The black fae pursued him immediately, her body thrown into action through the graveyard. But he already had the head start, and the predator was not a slow creature. Her eyes were quick as they watched his form ahead, her footing able to avoid obstacles that sought to send her tumbling. And falling in this place of stone was dangerous. Those sharp edges, like the hooves of deer, could shatter her body, leaving her unable to follow, vulnerable, and perhaps even dead. A quiet growl grew from her woad bound maw, her face only partially distorted by that sound. Why did he run, the woman thought. She did not smell fear—it did not quite exist, at least in the way of that true and intoxicating emotion. With her wounds healed and her muscles loosened by her diligent practicing, she followed suit. The woman had learned a thing or two since their last battle as well.
While the predator was fast, the woman was smaller, her body more agile. She could weave in and out of those tombstones with great agility, her feet quick with practice and with the familiarity of her own body. The woman took a different path, anticipating that which the predator would take next. While she did not catch him, the warrior had placed herself within a more comfortable proximity. Her jaws lowered, snapping in the air, attempting to catch his legs, to rip the tendons that allowed his feet to function. The warrior would not take mercy upon this creature any longer—that time was over. He was merely an enemy. As warrior, that was all he was to her now. The woad marked fae growled, challenging him. Turn and face me. His tail was in closer reach, she decided. With his scent thick in the air, the running she-wolf snapped at that appendage, seeking at least to stop him, to force him around.
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The predator knew the lay of the land well, and it intended to use that to its advantage. It was not much for long-term planning, despite how much smarter it seemed, it still was weaker than others in higher cognitive function. Still, it knew enough to flee to locations with more obstacles, dangers that it was familiar with that its pursuer was not. She was faster than it was, so it would need to make due with what it had in the immediate future.
The female gained and gained, and it heard her breath as she closed in. The two of them cleared the graveyard, where her agility and greater speed in a straight sprint gave her the advantage, and crossed an old street, where the beast dove into an ally littered with old construction materials, indicating that perhaps someone had been in the middle of adding onto their house before the fall of humanity. The space between two adjacent homes was occupied wall-to-wall with a pile of wooden planks, one of which had fallen askew of the rest, whose end lay on the ground facing them. The predator had seen this place before, and did a quick calculation, before jumping the hurdle, landing on the up-ended part of the fallen plank. This didn't hurt the creature, his weight was easily enough to force the half of the plank on the far end down quickly, which brought the near end swooshing upward, a primitive see-saw action which would either slow her down, or hopefully catch her in the jaw that sought its flesh.
Running beyond the hazardous pile of wood, the predator threw its shoulder into an ancient, rotting scaffold, which collapsed down as the massive wolf clipped its far support, collapsing across the alley. It wouldn't be impassable...but it would buy the monster time. It took a sharp right, and sprinted down several houses before turning left. Its scent would be enough to track over the long term, but following scent was slower than following sight. If it could break her line of sight, it would have the time to make good its escape. It didn't want to fight her, not now when it knew there were other hunters about. It needed to lay low, and remain healthy until it had no predators of its own to worry about. Discretely, it entered an old human house, one which it knew had three exits: one at the front, one out the back, and one through a large, open room with black marks on the floor and tools on the walls. It waited. If it heard her paws on the tiles at one of the entrances, it would know that the chase was on again.
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Despite her proximity, the yellow-eyed predator continued to elude her. Had the male been a prey animal, a wolf would soon be inclined to give up the chase. But the woad warrior did not pursue a prey animal, and her decision to take down this creature was greater than her need of food. Her body worked tirelessly to close the distance, but when it seemed as if the woman would catch him, they entered the streets of the city. He turned down an alleyway, and the black she-wolf turned her body low to the ground to make that necessary sharp turn. It seemed as if the brute knew where he was going. A soft growl entered the female’s breathing. She should have taken more time to explore this city. She had taken the time to explore the territory around Halifax, but she had done very little to become familiar with the city. It would be her next self-assigned task for more reasons than this male that she now pursued.
The predator leapt up upon the pile of wood. A soft, sharp bark of surprise escaped the woad marked fae as she pulled up, scarcely avoiding the plank that had been purposed to beat her in the maw. The air whistled with its passing and the black wolf made a swift turn to keep herself from falling. Then she was leaping over the uneven steps created by the wood, but she growled to herself. Already he was slipping away. But she could still smell him and hear him. Ahead, the woad bound ears caught the distant collapsing that shattered the silence. The pile of metal and the upturned dirt caused her to pause, listening to the frustrating sound of his pawsteps slipping further into silence. She paced the area swiftly, crossing the same area twice before she found a passable area. Her progress through it was slow in comparison to the high-speed chase she had been in only moments before. Deftly the warrior leapt over the beams and crawled under another, avoid the sharp edges that could cut her open before she had made it clear of the mess. Without delay she was running again, but with only scent to follow, her speed was, at best, a swift trot.
Right.... The woman cursed the wind for distorting her trail. She nearly missed the left turn he made, but upon finding that the scent was much weaker, she turned around and continued down the path that the predator had taken. It had entered the house, and his scent was stronger here, lingering. The warrior paused, before taking to the wall, carefully, stealthily stepping upon those tiles. She sought silence in her steps, but it made her progress painstakingly slow. But she knew that he was still here—his scent was too strong for him to have left. Then she paused, those woad bound ears pricking forward. She thought she could hear his breathing, but it could have simply been the silence that was distorted by her breathing heart. Then, carelessly, her paw brushed a small pebble. That small sound would have been enough. The woman abandoned the silence—the predator would have been alerted. The warrior made a brief note of her mistakes to be considered later as she threw herself into that swift trot. She could see him now, but unfortunately, she was not familiar with this house like he was, and the confines of the house constricted her movements.
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Maybe this is where Dawali comes in?
She had found it. The predator could smell her in the air, and as quiet as she moved, its senses were keen. It was concerned that she could move so quietly, it made her dangerous. Even so, it had not detected her quickly enough. She had seen it before it began running. Had it gone undetected long enough, it might have attempted to kill her unawares. Where Brennt ordinarily thought in very vague terms, and would not consider the nature of her strength in his fear of her, the predator understood that she would be unable to save herself if it successfully ambushed her. The first wolf it had killed in this place had died thus; taken unawares, sandwiched between the ground and the more massive beast, unable to stand, unable to get his teeth into his attacker. Skill could not save a wolf in that situation, it could only help him or her avoid that situation. It was bad that her senses were keen, too.
The predator opted to escape through the garage. The door had been half-closed a long time ago, but the place was so messy that there was no evident path from the room's entrance to its exit. It lopped over the debris quickly, before finding a channel it had used once before, which led to the far side of the room, around what the humans once had called a lawn-mower, and under an old wooden sign once intended for someone's school project. The junk was stacked high enough to block the door everywhere except at the door's far left side, where the channel lead. Piles of junk, the monster had learned, made good obstacles. Turning abruptly--it barely had room to change its direction, and little time to act, even though it had made some distance on its pursuer--it puts its shoulder into a nearby shelf filled with rusted gardening equipment, and with its considerable strength, toppled it. The shelf fell beautifully, catching on the far wall, an assortment of sharp metal tools littering the path beneath it, and the junk that had piled on top of it falling across the top. That would buy it the time it needed.
Running under the door, the predator took no time to think. It turned abruptly and made a bee-line for its final hideout. If it could get there before she headed it off, it would lose her for a certainty. It hadn't earned the memory of this place itself...when Brennt had used words and explored out of curiosity, he had been delighted to find this place. Further, he had walked around the area many times, often enough and recently enough that his smell would be everywhere. The path of the predator would be unapparent. It would be there shortly. An old house at the corner of the street. Its smell would be everywhere, and its escape route would be almost impossible to find. Even if the black female found it, it would be too late. Tirelessly, it took its head-start. It would surely get there before her.
[html] | http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;"> Right, so I'm not entirely certain what happens here, but if something of this doesn't fit in just tell me and I'll change it!
Also, sorry about the length and crapness of this post - I'm tired :/
Word Count: 677
Two legs carried him through the scenery of Halifax, his mind not even remotely at ease. Through all the positive things that had happened only the past days shone the darkness in his mind, the one being he could not stop thinking of. Gvihita sat on his shoulder every day, wordless and expressionless - as if a statue. He had hurt Noir and Oceane, his pups, his family, at least in mind if not in blood. And it was Dawali's fault - he had not protected them as he should have. He should have patrolled the borders better, although he knew he could not be everywhere at once. He'd come here now, because he should know or learn these lands, and partly because Ember liked it, but he found nothing here that he could use or find positive. Having drifted around its edges for some time the red wolf had finally dared enter the city itself, and now he was deep inside of it, walking here and there on asphalt which sometimes crumbled under his weight, as if he had any. He would have left a long time ago had it not been for the vaguest of scents that had brushed his nostrils as he had turned a corner. Brennt. Judging by the freshness of the scent he was still in the area, although it might have been hours since he had passed this particular spot. Now following that somewhat old scent, Dawali moved further and further inside the city.
He was a hunter - and a skilled one at that. Ever since his training as a child and young adult, he had had a talent for tracking his prey that was perhaps beyond that of the average hunter of the tribe, and that was what he did now. Crouching low, attempting to move his lanky form in a stealthy manner, he followed that scent as best he could, staying close to buildings and away from open spaces. Gvihita, moving for once, took off from his shoulder and soared high up in the skies - for reasons unknown to him. He turned corners he did not know, following an old scent that was everywhere, wishing he was not on asphalt but in terrain, where the path of prey could be tracked with other means than scent alone. Suddenly it was as if he had entered a sphere of just Brennt, where the scent was fresh, almost too fresh for his own liking. Increasingly alert, he hid along a wall, just in time to catch a glimpse of the sprinting predator as he entered a house on a corner some three blocks away. His heart skipping a beat, the tribe chief looked to the sky, as if the form of Gvihita could offer reassurance, although the proud bird was nowhere to be seen. Vaguely he recognized the scent of Cwmfen - it might have followed the predator for all he knew. For a moment he wondered whether she was all right, but he could smell no amount of blood or anything like it that could indicate that she was not, and he cast away his worry on that subject. Hesitating for some long moments, his legs finally complied and moved him along the wall, and then across the street to the safety of the next building wall. Two blocks away. He remembered his own pathetic threat, knife in hand, when he had first encountered the thing. Now he had no knife, no spirit guide - nothing to help him. And he could not fight, did not have the know-how. He knew, without a doubt, that whatever it was that had come over the dim-witted wolf at the end of their first encounter, it was to be taken seriously. It would be his life. Stuck between fear and responsibility and hatred, the male stood still along the wall, unable to make a decision. Leave or confront? Live - or perhaps die? His legs shook but he remained standing, the scent of Brennt seeping into every one of his pores.
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Is Dawali near Brennt’s hideout or blocking his way? >__<;;
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The predator ran immediately. He had been so close and yet she had lost him again. A quiet growl was emitted from the warrior, and yet, as she had thought upon the first time she had encountered Brennt, she was thankful at least that this creature provided her with the opportunity to fight and to learn. Her mind raced even now to conceive a way to overcome him, but she knew that at times thinking would do nothing. Here, there was only the chase, and she must chase him until he was caught. It was the only way. The only thing that she could do was to use her speed and agility to close the space between them. And so, when she saw and heard the predator take off, she too threw herself, abandoning silence for speed. As the black fae ran her body was low to the ground, her feet quick as she leaned into the corners to pursue him. And yet, he continued to evade her.
Cwmfen had been expecting him to throw another obstacle before her. But while she had been prepared, she had not closed the distance enough to make the obstacle unavoidable. Once more the warrior was forced back, rearing as she twisted her body to being hit and needlessly wounded by the objects upon the thing she had recently known to be called a shelf. The woad bound ears flickered back against the loud sounds even as she turned back around. She took off immediately, her steps careful and yet swift. The black fea knew, however, that the predator had bought the time that he needed. The predator was keen to throw these obstacles, she thought briefly as she passed as quickly as she could below the lowered wall. Another opponent, a different creature who thought differently than the primitive mind of the yellow-eyed male, would not have thought to create obstacles but to evade her by taking lesser known routs at random. The tactic utilized by her quarry was effective, frustratingly so. But that frustration, like so many other emotions experienced by the warrior, was diluted. There was more determination than frustration that compelled her now.
When she reached the open path, the warrior took off in the direction in which the strongest scent trail led. But soon, with the predator’s scent everywhere, the warrior’s pace was once again slowed to a frustrating trot. The white eyes darted about, drinking in the surroundings as she listened and smelled. Then, suddenly in the heavens she heard the calling of the pied Raven. There was someone familiar, that call said, but it was not the one she sought. And soon the breeze brought that scent to her. Dawali Amara, the woman’s thoughts immediately recalled, matching the scent upon the wind with the scent stored in the vaults of her mind. The AniWayan leader was ahead of her—perhaps he had caught sight of the predator. The warrior, as her pace quickened, raised her maw in a brief howl, raising the alarm to another wolf that sought the same wolf she now pursued.
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I'm not sure, but because Cwmfen's seen him, and that means the pressure is on to join the hunt, I'll move things along? I'm writing this assuming that the chase ends and they don't find his secret place << Also, sorry for the sort of crappiness...I guess I'm used to being more introspective, where here, he's just running for his life. Damn you Cwmfen for being so scary! Where do you get off chasing and trying to kill the old softy?
The predator fled. It heard the howl of its pursuer, but it was already running at full speed, and could give no more fuel to the flames of its own survival. If it ran much longer, it would not have been worth it, better to have simply fought from the onset than to be run down like a beast. But these were its grounds, and it felt in its gut that it could escape her here. She was faster than it, but the city could be a labyrinth to someone who did not know it. It was a perfect shelter for those who did.
It was then that the predator ran across something that threw all of its simple, if well-laid, plans into shambles. A werewolf, much taller than itself, stood in its path. It understood itself to be a big wolf, and each time it saw a werewolf, it remembered it could shift itself. Nonetheless, even though it normally would not quail before such a threat, it did not have the time to fight this foe before its pursuer caught up with it. It froze. One heart beat, then two, then three, then four, its hungry eyes staring into the werewolf's own, sizing it up, scenting the chemicals in the air, testing for the important ones: fear and anger.
Shortly, it made up its mind. The large wolf ran past the were, and three houses down, to the corner. There, it ran in, and suddenly down, into the basement. The basement was dark, but carpeted. It was where Brennt slept at night. His lair. Pitch black, but relatively bare and without dangerous obstacles. Shirts hung from wracks along the walls. Behind one such wall was a secret room, built my the owner many, many years ago. The door swung inward when the beast pushed against its third board. In the darkness, it couldn't be seen. The predator crawled in, and let the hidden entrance shut behind it. Within were long-burnt out lamps, and the wrinkled, browned vegetation of dead, illegal plants. Most importantly, there were stairs and a trap door in the ceiling that it could nudge open. It would do so once it believed the pursuit had ceased.
[html] http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;">Misunderstood something, but you guys fixed it so it's all good, sorry about the blahness! This should be better, I guess :] Cwmfen+Dawali=short conversation=finish? Or what happens here exactly? I often need details to understand 
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The scent increased in intensity. He had thought the one was now out of sight and it was up to himself to make the choice of follower, but fate quickly revealed for him that he was wrong. A lone impression from Gvihita made it clear - and just as he interpreted it as a warning to hide he saw the creature coming towards him at full speed. It was certainly the same beast that he had seen come forward in the eyes of the dim-witted thing called Brennt, and Dawali felt his hind leg move backwards in an automatic reaction. He wanted to flee, be elsewhere, now that he finally faced the one he'd wished for a long time that he could confront. As it halted, his other leg took another step back, and the black tip of his tail pointed to the ground. In the moments that felt like years his body slowly curled in itslef, as if the male wanting to shrink. Wishing to say something, Dawali found his tongue tied, and he could merely watch the being as it judged him solely on instinct - a sight somewhat uncommon these days. It was brutal, and the piercing gaze of the predator lingered on his own faltering yellow eyes. Most of the wolves he'd ever encountered would use the power of language to determine what to do with any situation, but the absence of any such method sent a chill down his red-furred spine. As quickly as it had halted it then continued past the werewolf, and Dawali's eyes caught him only as a grey blur - one of precision and force.
His side was still pressed against the wall, and now he sunk down along it, shaken - and surprised at being still alive. Vaguely he recognized the smell of Gvihita as the bird came down from the skies, her wings flapping all around his head as he hid it in his hands. She was angry, he knew, even if she was expressionless and said nothing. Moments later she had positioned herself on his shoulder again, statue-like, but her talons seemed to pierce his skin with unusual force. They would not leave marks - they never did. His eyes closed, covered by the hands whose palms where the purest of white, he noticed how they shook around him. The form of a tall and lanky werewolf sat crouched, his tail hanging limply behind him and the rest of him leaning heavily on the wall next to him, its red bricks blending with the furs as if a part of him. His heart still beat wildly in fear, but he did nothing but feel the shake of his hands against his skull as he rewound the short event and titled himself a failure. Even not when Cwmfen's scent was growing near did he look up, hoping she would not find him. Though the brick wall gave him and his red furs some cover, it wasn't enough by far to elude the female. Then again, he wasn't trying. He didn't know what he was doing.
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The wolf ran, but she knew that Brennt had already eluded her. The woman pushed her body, and she ran at full speed even knowing that the predator did the same. Her claws scraping against the concrete was her only sign of her passing, for all else was silent, as if she were merely a passing shadow in this long forgotten realm of man. The yellow-eyed predator had passed here—the trail of his scent was stronger than it had been elsewhere, but already the breeze was distorting the path that should have been clear. Like a black blur, she passed through the shadowed city, following the distorted trail of his scent and the call of the pied Raven above who had seen someone ahead. Whoever it was, she did not think that they would have stopped Brennt. But she did not expect them to either.
Then the warrior stopped, her eyes turning briefly to not the form of Dawali against the brick. Her eyes were fierce, as feral as Brennt’s had been. But she turned away, looking at the path ahead of her. But the scent here was everywhere, and the path that the predator had taken was indiscernible in that intangible mess. The woman’s tail waved once behind her, as if she were in thought. She had lost him again—this time, she had not even been wounded. A soft growl escaped the woman’s maw as she lowered her nose to scent the ground. But nothing new enlightened her, and she left standing there at the edge of a path she could not find, so overgrown as it was with weeds. Finally, the woman sighed, expelling that frustration that she felt. Today she may have failed again, but tomorrow would be different, she felt. There would always be a tomorrow.
Turning, the woad marked wolf looked upon Dawali, dipping her maw respectfully to AniWaya’s leader. "Dawali," the warrior greeted. She could sense his uncertainty. She knew that Brennt must have passed through her, and she knew that Brennt had escaped. But the warrior was not disappointed with the leader. To face the predator, the same form had to be used. The taller smaller optime form would be useless against the wild attacks of the primal creature. She was only lucky that at each encounter she had donned the correct shape to battle him. "He’s escaped me again," the soft melody explained, the feral light within her eyes fading as they became calm once more. Fluidly the woman crossed the distance between them, approaching the troubled leader with slow, measured steps. The white eyes sought him with quiet understanding. The woad tipped tail waved once, this time in a comforting gesture. But it was difficult for the wolf to interact with the greater, optime form. "Do no be troubled," the soft lilt said softly. "Next time, he will not be so lucky." With each encounter, regardless of the situation, she came closer and closer. The child of Nemain believed that next time would be the last time.
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His white palms granted him darkness, but he lifted his eyes to look at the femme when she finally approached him and spoke his name. He'd known that she would come - she was obviously the one that had sent Brennt running. Silent, the male said nothing and simply looked at her, before letting his gaze drop again onto the asphalt before him. Her eyes was fierce, as fierce as those of Brennt - wolves on the hunt. Was that the way he looked when he hunted his own prey? The action was not comparable, even if these actions towards Brennt were, also, for their own kind's survival. Moments passed and he finally spoke, not wanting to be impolite. His voice was low and distant, speaking a single word only. Cwmfen.
Only when she stated that he had escaped her yet again did he look up, and stand up. His hands still shook, and he was ashamed of not having been of use. Even if he had been a warrior.. no, he wasn't a warrior. He could never be a warrior. The only battles he would fight were the medical and political battles, the rest should be left to others than himself. I'm sorry. He ran right past me and ahead that way, but I.. have no strength. His words felt true that instant - he had no strength. Once faced with the creature again, his knees had buckled and his hands shaked - he was useless, and it shamed him. His eyes examined the dark femme before him, noted how she bore herself with a precision he lacked. He could weave blankets and skin animals to make items, he could build buildings and control large fires to burn and renew the fields - but he did not have her strength. He should have turned when he smelled the predator.
Dawali sighed heavily and leaned against the wall again, looking ahead at where the creature had ran. He could hope that one day, Cwmfen might be able to take him down - that their losses would be avenged, and that would be it. That he would not be forced to interact with it ever again. But he knew without a doubt that he could not ignore the problem and hope it would go away by itself. Besides, he had pledged his tribe an ally to Phoenix Valley, and their loss in particular could not go unavenged. Cwmfen spoke words and the male looked at her, his face troubled, and spoke with the same low voice. Next time, I might not be so lucky, either.
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