This is long as hell ngl. Ghost event!
He had been walking for ages. His eyes were sore from the moonlight, and he had not yet dared to wander again at daylight, so he’d kept his travel to the moments of the day without much of either. Sleeping and feasting in between, it had been about a day or so since his last meal.
’Meal’ meaning making puppydog eyes at any adult he’d crossed and begging for them to catch him something, of course. Now that he knew he was here to stay, he might as well get used to the cuisine.
The thought was making his tummy hurt. It was about time for breakfast, he was sure, but the creatures he’d crossed were becoming sparser, spread more thinly across this giant land. He thought back to the first lady he met. He was going South, right? More wolves had to have been along his path. That was why his mother(or sister?) told him to go this way.
Looking outside, past the thick gnarled roots of the tree he had hidden beneath, the boy licked his lips. Hunger drove individuals to impressive lengths, and for Southeast, that meant braving the cold. Snow was an incredibly foreign concept. That meant he did not understand the danger of it, nor the danger of letting himself catch the chill. Rising on wobbly ankles and wobblier legs, the pup started up and out of the slope that led into the hollow. Ears lifted, then drooped back on the sides of his head. What was all of this? This glittering white? It was not like a pet-ull, no, it disappeared on his nose.
He knew well enough not to stop and stare. Caves did get cold and he did have shorter fur. But the uneven matting across his body allotted some warmth while the weather was yet to reach its peak. Trotting along with a lowered head and wide eyes, little paws made muddled prints in slush and snow as he carried himself along. Surely, there was somebody or something out here to eat.
Noise. Not noise, a voice! His head snapped in the direction of it, eyes wide. Near, or far? Whatever it was, it was somebody speaking. Loudly, too! Drawn towards it like a moth to fire, the boy hurried along, darting through thin underbrush and past sparse trees. Making it out of the treeline, a guttural yelp just about forced him to snap his neck to the side. Much closer! He had heard such noises before, from his sister(or mother?) and knew such sharp yells to be normal wolf noises. Hurried, before the stranger could vanish, he scampered and bounded over piling snow and grass.
Almost falling down some sort of hill, the smell of blood was in the air. A fresh kill? Maybe he could beg. His mouth watered, stomach snarled. The worry that he would once again be too late had filled his head, and rather carelessly, he called out.
Hello!
No response. The bloody smell was stronger.
Excuse me!
Again. Paws finally slipped on the ground, tossing himself forward and stumbling onto the scene.
Content Warning begins Here.
What on earth?
Blinking once, blinking again, Southeast fixed his paws underneath his starving belly and stood once more. The snow was fierce. Yet and still, he was warm. This body was cold. Staring blankly, the boy approached. Head lowered, he allotted a single sniff.
Dead, for sure. Not much to be said about the gaping jowls and slashed throat, clotted blood clumping on pale fur. He did not know who had killed this individual, but if the body had been left here, they must not have been coming back. He did not feel remorse for this individual. He did not know them, and they did not know him. Such was life.
Jaws snapped open with an almost crazed hunger, clamping shut on the soft belly before he tugged. His teeth were not quite strong enough to pierce it, though, and he found himself tugging on hard skin and dense fur. Spitting out what fluff he’d ripped loose, the beast started on toward the tear in the throat of his quarry. Softer, and it was already opened for him. Sinking his teeth into the dead, his eyes closed. Fresher blood spilled as he tore at the trachea, red coating his fur as snow piled and piled on the ground. Crunching, crunching, crunching, the tan boy let his legs bend.
He was like a boar. Rooting through fur to eat his fill, gagging, biting it back and eating more. He did not understand why his body hated what he ate. He did not understand why he felt the need to hide what he was doing. He did not understand why it tasted so much better and so much worse than anything else he had eaten here. Fur and skin tore away on his path, bloodying his forelimbs and chest as they rested on the larger wolf’s neck, biting away at stiff muscle. Eyes closed, reminded of better times.
”Get off of me, boy.”
The voice was so surprising, so startling, that he stayed flat against the mangled corpse. Pupils drifted to the face. A twisted visage of.. Wait. No, that wasn’t possible. Swallowing, he went in for another bite, watching the lips as they twisted to speak. He swore they were at least. He could not say for certain.
”Get off of this body.”
That did it. Leaping back as if he were a startled cat, he only now realized how full he was. Swaying a little to broaden his stance, Southeast watched. Waited for the corpse to stand, for Her to appear. But she did not. The snow had painted the ground in soft fluffy flakes of white, surrounding all but the body and himself. Staring blankly, in shock or maybe fear, he croaked.
Dead wolves don’t speak,
Muttering, head started to lower in caution.
”You are too far North.”
She spat, somehow. He still was not certain that the face was moving, but it looked like Her. Not the rest of the body, but that was Her face. He did not like it at all.
What is North?
Might as well as now, since she had not ever told him.
”Go back to the forest. Then follow it to the plains, then chase the mountains.”
She responded. It was weird, to hear her again.
Are you dead?
Her son asked.
”Get off of this land. It is unwelcoming.”
He did not know what that word meant. But if that was what She wanted, that was what he would do. Dealing with ghosts was not his forte, nor did he want to deal with them any more. If this body was Hers, She could have it. Tail tucked and his brow wrinkled, starting to clack his teeth in the growing cold. Maybe it would be better to get out of the snow.
Looking back, the wind whipped in a manner similar to Her stern growl. Southeast had gotten the message, hustling out of the area before he had a chance to feel something similar to her bite.
