First Kill
Seasonal Skill Prompt
08-30-2019, 01:47 PM
Desolate had heard stories about this place - the Rustling Thicket. Home to Abaven's gardens and herbs, destroyed in a fire the season before. The pup hadn't actually seen fire nor felt it's heat, and so he had to take the elder wolves at their word when they described it as horrible and deadly. He didn't quite understand how it had come on so fast and unexpected. Somehow he realized that the fire couldn't be a predator, but what else could kill wolves and destroy their land?
As he grew he gained the confidence to wander further and further from his mothers den. He wanted to see the destruction - as it was his name, after all - and learn more of the battles of nature that plagued Abaven. He made his way to the thicket a bundle of nerves. What if the fire was still there, waiting to snatch up an unsuspecting pup and eat it? To his surprise the thicket looked relatively normal. There was grass where he was told they'd burned away, and even birds and rabbits had returned to their home in the lush field. Desolate was utterly confused, he expected the place to be gone - stolen away by the fire who had also stolen a pack mates life - and it occurred to him that maybe the adults were simply lying.
His fear of the fire was forgotten rather quickly as the place seemed tranquil and calm. Desolate wandered forward, poking his nose into the long grasses and underneath boulders as he looked for any sign that the dreaded thing had even happened. He knew that this place was also the border of Abaven's territory and for that reason he had to be careful. He did not have the edge of the territory memorized and needed to rely on his nose to recognize a scent border when he smelled one.
As he got closer to the edge - sniffing wildly to be sure he did not pass over it - a new scent came to his nose. It was not a wolf, but not a bunny or a bird or any of the other small preys he'd been accustomed to scenting. His tiny brow furrowed and his head pushed close to the ground as he vowed to follow the trail to it's source. It seemed to Desolate to be a winding trail but perhaps that was simply because he was too little and inexperienced to track it properly.
As the scent grew in strength as did Desolate's bravery. While he stalked, he thought of what the creature might be. Maybe it was a raccoon or a beaver and he could bring it's corpse to his mother with pride. His train of thought was derailed as a sound rustled ahead, and the pup instinctively ducked lower to the ground. It was there, just in-front of him and behind a boulder. The pup's tail wagged behind him and he crept forward until his pawtips touched the rock. Once he was ready - he pounced!
Mid-way through the air, his prey came into view. Only it wasn't a prey animal at all. It spun on him yowling, retractable claws extending as it aimed to meet his tackle. Desolate felt tiny slices in the side of his shoulders as the kitten latched on. It's small mouth moved to bite upon his neck. Luckily the creature was smaller then he was, and the punctures were not deep enough to cause real harm.
He stood petrified as the kitten clung to his front end, it's needle-like claws grasping hard into his flesh and it's head stuck hard in his neck. Desolate shook his pelt out in a desperate attempt to dislodge the thing, lifting a paw to bat at it's head and scrape the clingy creature off his chest. "Stop!" He asked it, a baby snarl upon his lips. He felt the latched claws begin to withdraw and hit the thing harder, leaning down to try and enclose his jaws upon the kitten's head still latched upon his fluffy neck. It felt awkward and for a moment, Desolate did not have the confidence to bite down once his teeth made contact. To kill a creature was wrong, right? But the cat would not let go, and after a brief moment of deliberation he steeled himself and bit as hard as he could.
His teeth sunk deep into the cat's skull, puncturing it's eye. The grip it held on Desolate abruptly released, and the kitten sunk to the floor. He did not like the metallic taste in his mouth and he licked his lips desperately to relieve himself of the blood. He'd killed something. Taken it's life. The small pup's ears flattened in shame. Gingerly, he reached forward to grab the body. He needed to hide it so no one would know what he'd done. The boulder which the cat had hid behind was big enough to partially hide the corpse and so he tucked it in behind it. Satisfied - and with one long look back to the dead body - he turned away and sprinted back towards home before anyone could see what he'd done.
As he grew he gained the confidence to wander further and further from his mothers den. He wanted to see the destruction - as it was his name, after all - and learn more of the battles of nature that plagued Abaven. He made his way to the thicket a bundle of nerves. What if the fire was still there, waiting to snatch up an unsuspecting pup and eat it? To his surprise the thicket looked relatively normal. There was grass where he was told they'd burned away, and even birds and rabbits had returned to their home in the lush field. Desolate was utterly confused, he expected the place to be gone - stolen away by the fire who had also stolen a pack mates life - and it occurred to him that maybe the adults were simply lying.
His fear of the fire was forgotten rather quickly as the place seemed tranquil and calm. Desolate wandered forward, poking his nose into the long grasses and underneath boulders as he looked for any sign that the dreaded thing had even happened. He knew that this place was also the border of Abaven's territory and for that reason he had to be careful. He did not have the edge of the territory memorized and needed to rely on his nose to recognize a scent border when he smelled one.
As he got closer to the edge - sniffing wildly to be sure he did not pass over it - a new scent came to his nose. It was not a wolf, but not a bunny or a bird or any of the other small preys he'd been accustomed to scenting. His tiny brow furrowed and his head pushed close to the ground as he vowed to follow the trail to it's source. It seemed to Desolate to be a winding trail but perhaps that was simply because he was too little and inexperienced to track it properly.
As the scent grew in strength as did Desolate's bravery. While he stalked, he thought of what the creature might be. Maybe it was a raccoon or a beaver and he could bring it's corpse to his mother with pride. His train of thought was derailed as a sound rustled ahead, and the pup instinctively ducked lower to the ground. It was there, just in-front of him and behind a boulder. The pup's tail wagged behind him and he crept forward until his pawtips touched the rock. Once he was ready - he pounced!
Mid-way through the air, his prey came into view. Only it wasn't a prey animal at all. It spun on him yowling, retractable claws extending as it aimed to meet his tackle. Desolate felt tiny slices in the side of his shoulders as the kitten latched on. It's small mouth moved to bite upon his neck. Luckily the creature was smaller then he was, and the punctures were not deep enough to cause real harm.
He stood petrified as the kitten clung to his front end, it's needle-like claws grasping hard into his flesh and it's head stuck hard in his neck. Desolate shook his pelt out in a desperate attempt to dislodge the thing, lifting a paw to bat at it's head and scrape the clingy creature off his chest. "Stop!" He asked it, a baby snarl upon his lips. He felt the latched claws begin to withdraw and hit the thing harder, leaning down to try and enclose his jaws upon the kitten's head still latched upon his fluffy neck. It felt awkward and for a moment, Desolate did not have the confidence to bite down once his teeth made contact. To kill a creature was wrong, right? But the cat would not let go, and after a brief moment of deliberation he steeled himself and bit as hard as he could.
His teeth sunk deep into the cat's skull, puncturing it's eye. The grip it held on Desolate abruptly released, and the kitten sunk to the floor. He did not like the metallic taste in his mouth and he licked his lips desperately to relieve himself of the blood. He'd killed something. Taken it's life. The small pup's ears flattened in shame. Gingerly, he reached forward to grab the body. He needed to hide it so no one would know what he'd done. The boulder which the cat had hid behind was big enough to partially hide the corpse and so he tucked it in behind it. Satisfied - and with one long look back to the dead body - he turned away and sprinted back towards home before anyone could see what he'd done.