The Physical Setting of a Dream
#1
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Kaitriona and Apache Outlaw entered in what would be considered a sacred landmark to ancient wolves uninfected by the virus centuries previous. Unbeknownst to the sordid history of the Reserve, Kaitriona felt an inexplicable energy about these woods that made her… tense. For Outlaw who was even nonchalant himself, expressed a degree of vigilant; ears pressed forward and neck craned higher than usual, his gait kept at a brisk pace. Not only was the energy unusual, but the colors of the foliage were a bursting virescent green, unlike the redundant deep jade of miles of forest already foraged through. Appealing and nearly pleasing to the eye other than the drab background of any other forest, but at the same time… strange.The good thing was the forest wasn't as dense as the previous they crossed through, so travel was increasingly swift. The entire vibe of this Reserve kept Kaitriona and even Outlaw particularly attentive. At one point Outlaw halted dead in tracks, Kaitriona swiftly turning behind and ears perking forward to the sound of what seemed like distant whining. It was too far away to discern, but if Outlaw heard it, then Kaitriona definitely knew something was in a mile radius range. The distant whining didn't call for them anymore, and they continued, silently mystified (unknowing of the ghosts that truly lingered).


The sun was at a high point in midday, sunlight fading in and out with passing clouds. Kaitriona nearly leapt from Outlaw's back all of a sudden, seeing the flash of a Wapiti dash through the bright foliage, startled by the pair's sudden approach in its grazing area. "There!" Kaitriona exclaimed, giving Outlaw a firm kick to his flank to thrust him forward, and without protest began galloping after the Wapiti's trail. Her arm wrapped around to snake into the smallest pouch of her deerskin pack, fumbling with the tie and digging around for the sharp felt point of a throwing knife. Nearly cutting herself in the process by blinding retrieving a blade upon a moving equine, she grasped the throwing knife tightly as Outlaw attempted to remain on the Wapiti's trail. It took a considerable amount of time before she could time the throw perfect, and once the two running beasts were aligned in a linear chase, Kaitriona reeled back to throw the knife at the base of the Wapiti's neck.


A protesting bleat was heard, the knife hitting into its left shoulder blade. Cutting through the flesh cleanly, a blood trail began to leak, the knife stuck in the shoulder of the Wapiti, frantic now it was struck. Kaitriona held on and kicked Outlaw again in the flanks, this time firmer. They were careening through the Reserve now, dodging low lying branches and jumping over fallen bark at the last minute. Whether the Wapiti had this planned, it rounded a bend where once Outlaw followed, the Earth sharply declined into a slant. Giving an agitated whinny, the equine stumbled forward to keep its balance at the sudden drop in land. Apache Outlaw slid sideways, tossing Kaitriona off to the side. Gasping and cursing under her breath, she hit the Earth with a hard thud. All that could be heard was the scattering hooves of the Wapiti disappearing in the odd foliage, the knife now a few meters away, slaved with fresh blood. Bringing herself to her wobbly feet, her nose detected the bloodied knife to retrieve. Outlaw nickered in agitation, shaking his head and merely dancing in place at the surprise of the decline of land.


Picking up the tainted knife, her tongue whisked over the opposite end of the sharpened knife, tasting the sweet metallic tang of Wapiti blood that nearly put her in a frenzy. Cursing under her breath again, to lose a prey in such a manner (especially when it was just her and her equine) was extremely dispiriting. The drawbacks of a rogue life were snacking on the pathetic tidbits that were squirrel, hare, and small mammals. Kaitriona didn't know how long it had been since she dined on a true filling meal, and this little disappointment struck her spirit heavy. Her sapphire eyes slanted in the direction the Wapiti took off. With the scent of blood overwhelming her senses, Kaitriona was always one to get what she wanted, and she wanted this Wapiti right now, dead or alive.

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#2
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His spirit guide is visible. :3



art by crypsis

Between his two lives, one as a loner and the other as a Tribesman, Anatole had picked up on the rules and conformations expected by others. Therefore, he fended off strangers from borders and skirted clear of them himself while traveling. As it stood, however, some things forced him to compromise—such as the massive wingspan descending from above with frightening speed. He had come to recognize her as opposed to a strange bird, especially as no raptor, eagle or not, had tried attacking him in years.

The breeze came with her, still-warm and carrying with it the scent of the borders. Summer was fast nearing end but it was still mighty hot enough for him. Within the multitude of scents he picked out one, above all others, that flagged as a beacon. Blood. With a huff of breath he spurred off, four legs carrying him quickly. His lupus form was made for such fast travel, and between his own senses and the subtle direction of the Spirit, he tracked the scent towards its source.

What he did not expect was that the source was still present. A horse reeking of sweat and overturned earth. A wolf that smelt of no pack but instead only the horse and her own unfamiliar musk. Anatole’s tail flagged up to a high point though they were yet beyond the borders of AniWaya. Still, he noted sourly, the trail led directly towards it. His green eyes darted upwards once as the eagle settled close to where he suspected the animal had fled. Head high, Anatole stepped forward to meet the woman. Osiyo,” he called, finding the AniWayan on his tongue almost without realizing it.

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#3
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Apache Outlaw promptly squealed, a sound Kaitriona never heard come from her equine companion before. A short piercing eeee! came from the Warmblood, followed by a harsh snort and backing up profusely when out of the foliage emerged a canine on four legs, tail flagged high behind. Kaitriona herself was caught off guard by such a sight, not witnessing a four-legged Lupus since departing from the Aleutian Islands back North. This one was a large one, covered in an ebony cape, with the rest of his underside and limbs drowning out in a mottled agouti. His eyes flicked a brilliant green, such a green intensified by the sheer size of the Lupus before her. Kaitriona always thought there was no Optime, not even a Secui, out there that could possess the strength and captivation of a true Lupus.


Lupus-like individuals were her ultimate weakness, her bitter frustration, and her utter fascination all rolled into one. She possessed the ability to shift on a whim now that the virus adapted to the rest of her DNA, but her Lupus form had been untouched since her infection and bloodletting of allowing Luperci Verto to take over her. Glazing over at the powerful male Lupus before her, his sight was bewildering. Magnificent. The definition of their true ancestry. Kaitriona had this too at one point, sorely taken away from her too quickly. The bitter reveries began to flood in, but the male's deep voice broke through her abstraction.


It appeared Apache Outlaw was just as unsettled as she was at the appearance of this Lupus. Not even noticing the avian that soared overhead, Kaitriona was immensely fixed upon the male before her. In a deep voice his tongue muttered something entirely foreign, unable to decipher. It was unknown whether her was trying to greet her, or say something else entirely (the phrase came out mutual at best to her). Her grip tightened on the bloodied knife she held, suddenly exasperated a four-legger like him surprised her and her companion. This frustrated her along with losing track of the Wapiti. "What?" Kaitriona said sharply, her vexation cracking in her voice. The taste of blood was still strong on her tongue, giving her a natural high and edge.

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#4
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art by crypsis

The woman was dark and two legged, with a fidgeting horse that reeked of sweat and fear. Twin impulses tugged at him; this was prey, weakened by its run, but it was a horse in its prime and with hooves capable of cracking his skull in two. Anatole slowed and regarded her with sharp, piercing eyes. They lingered on her knife, recognizing it, knowing that such weapons were as dangerous as teeth and claws.

At her bark of surprise he frowned severely. The fur along his neck bristled, but only there—it was a warning, subtle as it was. They were not deep enough into the territory to warrant more, and by all accounts, she was beyond AniWaya’s borders yet. “It’s a greeting,” he snapped, feeding off the scents and behavior presented to him. A gentle breeze brushed against his fur and Anatole forced out a breath. His temper was still terrible, but he was learning how to better function in situations such as these. They were strange to him yet, as was presenting anything but hostility when it came to strangers.

“You’re close to my Tribe’s land,” he warned her, dark form shifting slightly as his weight rocked back towards his haunches. A sharp cry sounded from above. The eagle’s scream was peculiar; there was a strange sort of tone to it, as if the noise had been carried over some great distance. Anatole’s ears flicked up at the noise and his head turned towards Donoma’s form, perched above them. “Your prey is wounded. You should have made a cleaner strike.”

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