The Head and the Heart
Skill prompt
Rosemary sauntered down the ravine, his thoughts heavy and burdensome. He thought of that damned Seer who used his bulk to pummel his way through the pack and Deathbelle who was too charmed by him to stop him. If he could just find some way of getting rid of him, but how when Belle was so closely woven to him? She was far too fond of the man, that was for sure, and it troubled him that he might hold the same rank as him. He muttered quietly to himself, the chains on his harness jingling with every step as he skulked down the ravine.
He’d meant to go hunting today and test out the golden fangs he wore, but his thoughts were far too burdensome, and he felt he couldn’t think straight. He left the packlands, venturing along the coast when a strange scent reached his nose. He winced at the stink of dead fish and crept closer to investigate, his paws sinking into the mud as a veritable cloud of birds came into view. At their stalky feet were fish, hundreds of thousands of fish, that stretched out as far as he could see. He felt his mouth hang open in amazement as he stalked closer, birds bursting into the air as the large predator took a step toward them.
He turned his nose downward to investigate the fish, finding some of them still flailing on the sandy dunes while others laid motionless and dead. Curiously he bit into one of the fish, letting the cold meat settle on his tongue, it certainly tasted fresh despite the number of flies that had accumulated around some of the motionless fish.
He prowled forward into another bloom of feathers and frantic bird cries and sank his fangs into a fish that was still flopping hysterically on the sandy banks. The taste of salt was heavy on the fish, a pleasant taste for the wolf who made a note to try and harvest salt from the baking stones to season Deathbelle’s food with. Rich food was befitting her but thoughts of his sister quickly turned cold, returning to the poor choice she had made, blinded by her love of the dark male.
He was a fine warrior it was true, but he was more a wild dog without a chain than someone worthy of counseling her. He wanted to make her see just how her choices were tearing the family apart, and even thought of staking out on his own if the cur actually won against his fight with Hannibal. If it were up to him, he would have the man cast back down to slavery, but unfortunately it wasn’t. Maybe, he thought, he could convince Hannibal to take leadership for himself, it would be a betrayal to his sister, but she was becoming out of control with her love of the male.
He sighed, attempting to clear his head by focusing on the mystery of the fish and failing miserably. If she could only see, if only she knew. He rested his head between his paws, his tail drumming against the sand as soft waves lapped at his fur before he reached out to grab a fish and eat it slowly. Eventually the birds returned deciding he wasn’t a threat to them…for now and continuing to gulp down the veritable feast that was before them.
With the basket woven he began to collect fish to bring back to the pack, only the freshest, and still flailing would do, while he snarled at any of the birds that threatened to take his catch from him. He spent nearly the whole day doing this, searching for fish and catching them, although much to his amazement as the tide rolled in, it brought even more fish with it, and the feeding frenzy began anew. He looked at his piled catch with pride then swiftly turned on his heels, marching back the way he had come with his catch in tow and the rat perched dutifully on his shoulder. There would be much to discuss when he returned home, he intended to talk to Hannibal first, then perhaps Belle again to see if she could make her see sense, although he greatly doubted it. He was sure in time Sirius himself would show his true colors, all he needed to do was be patient and bide his time.
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