Muddy Unatsi is in lupus, with no spirit guide present.
Lanky limbs stretched out in long, quiet strides as the small form moved through the muddy plains of the lagoon. Occasionally, a pale paw would lift up out of the muck and shake—twitch, really—and send tiny splatters of brown off in various directions. They remained coated with mud and softly squelched with every misstep, however, and most of the little flecks landed on the taut jaw of the red wolf navigating the floodplains. His too-big ears were pinned tightly against a skull that might have been elegant if anything about the man could be called elegant. As it was, he was muddy and on a mission—more so the former.
Taking on the entire agriculture tier all by his lonesome (Jaroslaw excluded) was not something that Unatsikanogeni could do in his first few weeks in the new sect of his once-beloved Tribe. However, hunting in the muck for deer and grouse was a simpler task. He could handle that one. Or, well, he had less of a chance of screwing it up, and the consequences weren’t so bad because it wasn’t like this was some big abstract thing he was responsible for. No, he either nabbed an animal and ate well and went to sleep with a big round tummy, or he was hungry and possibly even muddier than he already was.
A nice thought, that.
His brow furrowed, and he bit the side of his tongue. His stalking brought him no closer to any prey that he could see, but at least all this mud was camouflaging him or something. All he needed to do was look out for any deer that wandered too deep into the muck, and then he’d break off one of their spindly legs and bring them down. Luckily, Udanvti was not present; having a ghost doe among the real ones would only have confused the matter.
Wading through a deeper section of the pondlike bog, Unatsi sniffed for traces of his intended prey. He thought he’d seen a buck, antlers all a-velvet, disappear into the foliage when he’d first arrived at Mersey Lagoon. He couldn’t smell the creature anymore, after its odor had teased him for the past twelve minutes or so. He wondered if this was a sign, just as the squishy ground under and around his paws disappeared, and suddenly he was up to his pointy little nose in grimy water.
Of course, he’d found a sinkhole.
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