---

Plush pelt placed under his chin, Rancor laid his head down with some pressure. It took some of the literal weight off of his shoulders, expressed with a tired sigh. Very. He had not fully slept in days. How could he, out on the open ocean? He’d get eaten by a shark, or an orca, or anything else. The longer he stayed idle, the more he could feel the burn and sting in each leg. It almost hurt.

Almost.

Ears perked though his eyes stayed closed, listening to his companion while he responded to his important question. Yes, the zombie, which he had never seen or smelled or heard of despite living on Ferinine for a year or so. A curt laugh forced its way out of his ribs, streamline jaws parting. So you let your packmate die. What a disgrace. Not even a she-wolf would let that happen; at the very least, she’d ought to grab her male packmates to save the other.

He’d never thought highly of those that let thin-pawed creatures place collars on their necks, though. They had been around to document his pack once or twice when he was younger, and they’d always avoid the water during that time. Bad, smelly things they rode. Mojave was a disgrace to let them near his ample, soft coat.

In any case, HE seemed not to get that memo. Don’t you remember how he was always there? The black white wolf moved his head somewhat to nestle his chin deeper into cooling fur. Always having to poke and prod and ask what we were up to. In fact, wasn’t it HIM who told you about your collar? His head now lifted some, face scrunching in annoyance at the red thing. Snapping at it, Rancor added, Of course I don’t miss him! I’m just waiting for him to come out of the woodwork, all “I told you so, fish-boy!” His mocking tone could not have been farther from that wolf’s voice.

---

MOJAVE

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Mojave went still as Rancor shifted his weight onto him, trying not to tense up from their proximity. He'd never come this close to Mojave before, not once- and his heartbeat picked up again, his mind doing its best to remain focused on the words Rancor was saying. ... Well... I tried to talk sense to him for a little bit. But after one too many 'accidental' close calls, I lost faith. Mojave huffed, a slight shakiness to his voice as he battled nervousness. Gave up on... all of it, really. Best choice I made, although I do hope Amorak didn't end up that thing's meal

When Rancor brought up Amorak's intrusive nature, Mojave glanced away, as though he were expecting his ex-coworker to pop up at any moment. Always, He began, but his voice stuttered to a halt as Rancor pushed against him more, choking up slightly. Clearing his throat, Mojave forced himself to let go, breathing in deep and exhaling audibly. His muscles relaxed again, though his nerves were still on fire. Always, He started over, raising his voice slightly as he recalled those annoying times. At the worst times, too. I think he was stalking us... or, me, perhaps. He leaned away some as Rancor snapped at the collar, holding in a surprised chuckle.
He WAS. Ugh, to think that he'd heard... ALL of that... he was saying all sorts of terrible things afterwards, making all kinds of insinuations. I'm almost certain he'll be here any second now, even if your impression of him is terrible.

He fell silent for a bit, sighing. Things had been simpler when his main priority was that walking corpse... he'd miss that life, just a little bit. Finally, Mojave seemed to truly relax, as he momentarily drifted off into thoughts about the past...
Surely, we weren't the only strange figures you met, right? I mean, the island was chock-full of oddities. I don't know how you can think a zombie is far-fetched with the kinds of things I've seen around...

---

MOJAVE

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---

He could feel Mojave tense and his muscles tighten as he relaxed into the taller oaf, rounded ear flicking idly as the dull thumping of Mojave’s heart quickened. Why is– The man had begun to ask, though figured he knew the answer anyhow. After rolling his eyes, dark fur bunched in thick rolls as he lifted himself and pulled away.

This wasn’t to say he had moved anywhere. Rancor just didn’t like hearing the heartbeats of a homosexual. He’d only moved his head.

There was, however, an undeniable warmth that had spread from his paws and face to the rest of him. Whether this was from his proximity to the longer fur or because the wind blew the heat over their way he didn’t know. It did make him tired... But he would not fall asleep against a man. Well, I hope he did die. Very badly. It was no secret he hated that wolf.

Watching the weary desert man look around as though anticipating him did irk him some. If Amorak–Ceta forbid–was still out there, he’d kill him. He was probably in love with you. He’s gay, isn't he? All gay men liked every other man, obviously. I bet he was jealous. Rancor had only ever seen them interact negatively. He couldn’t say much about their homelife, but seeing your boyfriend act all cozy with some other.. Guy, would probably piss you off. He personally couldn’t imagine it, though.

Bringing up two paws to rest on the male’s tan coat, he nestled in. I’ve only ever seen normal animals. You know, foxes. Deer, bears. Wolves and the like. I’m sure Ferinine has many species that live there but I haven’t seen enough weird ones to believe you. Although, everything terrestrial was pretty weird to him. They didn’t have deer where he lived. You’d think a Narwhal was weird, if you saw it. I try to be open-minded. After some pause, he could not help but to laugh at his joke.

---

MOJAVE

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The hostile words towards Amorak did not surprise Mojave in the slightest- it was not as though Rancor hadn't spoken spitefully of the troublemaker before. If he weren't so conflicted right now, he might've laughed at those words. It was a taste of what Mojave saw as 'normal' conversation between them; a relief, given how the last fifteen minutes or so had been. I can't say I'd say the same, He exhaled. But I can't say I'd feel too bad about it either. He was making very avoidable mistakes, if he became that thing's meal because of them, I'd just be disappointed. Mojave flicked an ear, keeping his head away from Rancor. It was distracting enough that the swimming wolf lay against his side, he need not feed any of these emotions any further- something in his head told him things would be better if he didn't.

Huh? Jealous? Mojave's eyebrows raised. Unlike the previous statement, this one had taken Mojave much by surprise. I never got the impression he thought of me like that, Mojave squinted as he kept his eyes on the terrain around them. I just thought he had a few screws loose. He's always been a... sillier fellow. He took a moment to reflect on their time together. Amorak had only joked about such a concept once, and Mojave'd not humored it, if he remembered that conversation correctly. He'd never considered that the other male would have had feelings for him... though, Mojave had also never considered himself into other males, and yet here he was, feeling definitely-not-straight towards someone who had just denounced his feelings. He needed time to process these things... he had been putting it off the last couple of years, writing it off as something that he could confront if Rancor ever came back- and here he was.

No use in putting it off any longer, right?


Mojave blinked, glancing at Rancor now. The joke didn't quite seem to land with Mojave, who stared at him now. A Narwhal...? He echoed, confused. Truthfully, he had no clue what a Narwhal was. He wanted to share in the amusement, but felt it would be too awkward if he fake-laughed at the joke. Um. Well. I assure you that there most definitely, most CERTAINLY, were strange creatures of all kinds. The zombie almost seemed tame at times.. though it would quickly remind me just how wrong such a thought would is. He shivered slightly. What terrible times, strangely nostalgic times, simple ones, yet terrible times overall.

---

MOJAVE

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---

Now he only faintly cut his eyes at the larger man, shaking his head enough that his nose tilted from side to side. He’s the kind of wolf you don’t let tag along during a hunt. Because it was inevitable that he’d get someone killed, and that SOMEONE would almost certainly not be their meal. The blubbery fellow did get a chuckle out of imagining him winding up thrashed and near-drowned by an Orca. Oh, how he would miss such a taste.

Mojave adamantly denied the idea of Amorak having been fond of him, and while there was a suspicious glint in his gaze he didn’t push it. Didn’t matter now, if he was dead. And it doubly didn’t matter if they weren’t on Ferinine anymore.

Straightening his lip and forcing a thoughtful expression, Rancor worried where they could have been if not. Surely, there’d have to be some locals around to explain it to them. Peering over at the broad-eared wolf below him, he felt his eyelids narrow. At the very least, Rancor would figure it out. Maybe not that idiot.

Once again returning to the concept of the undead, he allowed himself to ponder the thought without completely denying it again. He might never believe him about it, but it wasn’t like he’d been there all the time. Perhaps, there was some kind of reality where nonsensical things happened all the time. It’s like a beluga whale, which is like a white flat-faced dolphin, with a horn on its head. Not that he had much faith in Mojave knowing what those were, either. How many land-living wolves had even seen a whale? A tuna? Sighing, Rancor made sure to clarify. I won’t doubt you on it. You saw what you saw. I just didn’t see it. But if we can end up.. Here, when I could have sworn we were just on a beach, then anything’s possible. And that would be that.

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MOJAVE

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Oh, certainly not. I don't know how he fed himself when we weren't together, He laughed softly again. Was Ferinine really... gone? Was he really somewhere else now? Regardless, he would only miss Amorak a smidge- he HAD been a BIT of a nuisance, and much more so towards Rancor.

He watched as Rancor stared, and listened as he spoke about this narwhal creature. A what? Is that one of those large, things with big faces? He tilted his head, then nodded as Rancor added on the last part. Yeah, something strange is going on. We... uhm, I guess we should figure out what's up with this place. Would Rancor let him stick around? It wouldn't feel great to be on his own again... I mean! We, as in we both, but only if you didn't mind.

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MOJAVE

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---

His ears twisted slowly, breathing soft and quiet as he strained either funnel to pick up the faint song of far-away lurching and lunging waters at the base of the glacier. He’d never known Blizzardclan territory to cut off by the sea so abruptly. A sigh settled his slightly ruffled pelt and heavy-lidded lavender eyes swung back around to Mojave.

The smell of the fire was so.. Pleasant. So calming here, though they had shuffled over toward the edge of its light and thus a great distance away from the brunt of the smoke. Or so he thought. Rancor hadn’t encountered many fires so large in his time, without wood or something else to burn, like the blubber and oil from a grand old whale washing ashore. The memories that came with the dull warmth in his paws and face and nose were fond to him, and with a quiet yawn, he rolled over some to thoughtlessly expose his white-furred belly. The whale-hunter might never have considered such a thing when he was out in the open, but it would be a far stretch to suggest they weren’t alone by now.

Ought to, if we don’t want to end up like the Amorak of wherever this is. A yawn parted his maw, black lips pulling back as he slowly seeped closer into the perfectly him-shaped bends and curves of Mojave’s body. Such a big investigation sounds like a pretty ‘we’ situation. The effects of the flame upon him were not flamboyant in nature. But there were signs that he had huffed about as much smoke as his dreary mind could take for now. Reaching his paw over and around his companion’s back to prop him up better as a pillow, he tried his best not to kick him in the face as he did. You think?