D O V E W H I T E

His silent call was answered, and in moments, she was down and lifeless. Dove's stomach growled viciously as he licked his chops clean, and he was bending to take a hearty mouthful when Sirius spoke. Dove froze inches from the doe's flesh, and pinned his ears in embarrassment at his own harefooted actions as a blush wormed its way beneath his fur. He stood to his full height, nodding as he took a pointed step away.

"But of course," he murmured, ignoring the voracious protests of his stomach. Minutes, he reminded himself. It would be mere minutes until he could be sated.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

The man had been about to take a bite, and Sirius knew he was hungry. He gave Dove a respectful nod, appreciating the agreement with the delay as he stepped back. Having a large pack, Sirius always needed fresh coats to line dens. He tried not to let any part of a kill go to waste. He would make spikes with the rib bones, which was always a useful endeavour. He crouched carefully by the bleeding corpse, using his unusual, feline-sharp claws to slice a cut across its belly, where he would start the process of feeling the skin away. Once some of the meat was shown, he ripped off a meaty chunk of it, holding it in his maw as he took a step towards Dove. lowering his muzzle to place the offering on the ground before the wolf that did not yet know he belonged to Sirius. Dove likely would not see the wicked gleam in the Warlords eye, carefully holding the meat before them, before dropping it gently on the ground at Dove’s feet. With something to take off the edge of his wolf's hunger, the Warlord would continue the process of peeling the coat free of the meat. The rib bones he would gently pry free and toss into a pile. By this point, his entire muzzle and front paws were red with blood. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

Dove watched with silent intensity as Sirius set to work, hunger rippling through this very being. He'd been this hungry before, but it had been a long time and that time had been through no fault of his own. He blinked at the way Sirius used his tusks, though Dove wondered if they were teeth rather. Mild surprise coated his feature when the other man approached with an offering of meat from the doe's sensitive belly. It was dropped at his paws, and the apprehension was back, sowing doubts where Dove was unsure there was any to be had.

He glanced at the offering, unsure Sirius noticed his pause, wariness overpowering the hunger, for the moment. There didn't seem to be ill-intentions behind it . . . but Dove knew well how not all was always what it seemed to be.

Knowing he wouldn't come to an answer either way, Dove let it drop for now and bent low, ripping into the meat that was offered as Sirius turned to continue his work. Flavor spread over his tongue, and all too soon, he finished the small meal he knew was meant to tide him over until the other wolf had done what he needed to do. His gaze zeroed in on the doe, but with practiced ease, Dove controlled the hunger as he waited for Sirius to finish.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

He finished separating skin from flesh, and holding the coat in his maw so it dangled before it, he carefully tossed it over a low-hanging branch. The last of the blood would run free, and the coat would have a chance to dry as he picked it free of any remaining flesh. His pile of bones would be the entirety of the rib cage now, and the meat flopped onto the grass free of the cage of flesh. “Help yourself” Sirius instructed him. He was a little hungry himself, but he hadn’t been skipping any meals lately, as he suspected Dove had been. He let Dove take first dibs on the kill. The Alpha posturing of the first meal wasn’t one of the traits Sirius went with. In his pack, Zee and the children ate first, or lost lambs such as this one. He could always make another kill later, if he wanted juicier pieces. As he gave Dove time to take his pick from the kill, the Warlord would tend to the coat. He would carefully pick it over as he removed any lingering bits of flesh. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

Sirius seemed to be focused as he meticulously peeled the pelt from it's flesh, and Dove, still hunched, tilted his head in curiosity. Skinning kills for fresh pelts had been someone else's job, the messy task falling to the wolves with grey or black pelts that resembled his. How willingly Sirius dirtied his coat with the duty didn't escape Dove, even as he paid more attention to the ready meat he was aching to sink hungry teeth into. Moments later, the other man finished his task and turned away with the pelt in his jaws, a silent signal that his project had reached its end.

Dove fell on the carcass, abject hunger evident in both his eyes and his motions as he ripped and chewed as quickly as possible. He'd realized he was hungry, his belly empty from the limited hunting he'd done in his journey. He hadn't wanted to leave a trail to track, hadn't desired to leave a marker of where he went and how to find him. There were scent markers to consider, but he knew the scent of him would disappear far quicker than a carcass would. He hadn't, after all, told his family that he was leaving. And he surmised, because of it, once they'd discovered that he was gone and any possessions belonging to him left behind, their anger must have been something to behold. He paused for but a moment as he lumbered to his full height, a shiver gracing his shoulders as he considered the rage that his sudden absence must have left his father in, unforgiving as he was.

And for having to be the ones to endure it, to attempt to quell it, as they hadn't in the years whilst Dove was present to be their patsy, he knew his siblings would never forgive him.

"Mote it be," Dove muttered beneath his breath. "So mote it be." Dove bent to take a final bite from the meal they'd brought down, and stood back to his full height as he chewed and swallowed.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

Sirius gave a decent portion of his attention to cleaning the petl, but he still kept a careful eye on the hungry wolf. As he carefully made his way along the seams, until the coat was ready to be left to dry and cure in the heat. It had dripped most of its fluids away by now, and the skin felt firm and whole beneath his paw. He was happy with the work, overall. The other part of his attention was on Dove, who fell without grace on the kill, hunger clearly in the driver's seat as he sated his full of the deer. He noticed when Dove paused, and shuddered, and Sirius had no doubt he was remembering some past pain. The Warlord's expression darkened, and he turned his head so that Dove would not catch his expression if he looked his way. He doubted Dove would take any comfort from the anger the Alpha knew he was displaying there. His ears twitched to catch the words Dove muttered, but they were too soft, and to his annoyance, he missed them. When Dove took a step back, Sirius took it as an invitation, and he moved forward to take a few bites from the carcass himself. He paid no mind to stepping in the blood-stained grass. He was already well-coated in red, and no minding now would change that. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

Sirius seemed to finally either tire of his task or come to a stopping point, as he turned to take his fill of the meal when Dove stepped away. The star-speckled man took his time cleaning pelt, first his paws that were ruddy with the fresh blood from the hunt and then his maw, currently in similar circumstances. An empty belly no longer weighing on his mind, Dove considered the day's . . . interplay. He replayed everything that Sirius had done, cataloged all of his own responses, and tucked them away for later studying.

Sirius was . . . puzzling. His initial greeting had been neutral before he'd fallen to poking game Dove was certain now had been to test his mettle. He'd relinquished that easily, though, and had not only seemed . . . concerned with the ghosts that haunted Dove and the reactions he had yet to gain any measure of control of. He considered this as he stood, pelt as clean as it would be, for the moment. He'd offered Dove a place amongst his wolves, and Dove was wary, unwilling to trust Sirius and take the offer at face value. There had to be an endgame, a goal for the other wolf to be so willing to be kindly to a stranger, and until Dove knew what exactly that was, it would be remiss of him to trust so easily.

Dove knew he'd glanced interest in Sirius' gaze at multiple points of the day, and until he knew what that interest was, the other man's honeyed words would fall on deaf ears.

Dove glanced about, making sure there was no danger. He might not trust him, but the good that drove Dove to seek asylum in another land rather than lashing out at the wrongs permitted against him, drove him to make sure the area was safe while Sirius ate.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

The careful perimeter glances didn’t go amiss, and Sirius hid his grin as he finished the meal and took a step back. His fur was pretty mattered at this point, and he didn’t relish the thought of carefully cleaning with his tongue. Never mind how often his teeth got in the way. Luckily, the mangroves sat on territory that mixed between marshy and lush, being so close to the ocean. “I’m going to find a stream” he told Dove. “I’ll come back to the pelt later. Did you want to come?” he offered, seeing the man had already started the task of cleaning his own coat. Without waiting for a response, the Warlord shook out his coat, and raised his nose to the air, scenting the sea and using that to guide him. Marshal and Bast would descend on the carcass to pick it clean, and depending on Dove, if he came out went, would stay in the area and watch over the scarred man, or go in search of Sirius. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

Sirius had his fill quickly, Dove assumed as the man stood. His words filtered into perked ears, and Dove nodded after considering a moment. "Only so far as the mangroves," he clarified pacing after Sirius, keeping good distance between them. Hunger was no longer harrying him, and with both a clear mind and a full belly, the distance seemed pertinent.The forest surrounding was quiet as they continued, as though it sensed the predators within it. Birds took flight as they passed a cluster of trees that were closer together than others, a mess of foliage and underbrush in the middle of it.

His head hung low to catch the scents they passed as they meandered back to Lover's Mangrove. It would do well to become familiar with the creatures that were closest to him, Dove decided. It would help him determine when something was out place or if a scent had ended up where it shouldn't be. He would trail after Sirius at a comfortable distance until they reached the point at which they're first met, and Dove would stop there, back where this had all started, it seemed as he gazed at the canopy above.

[ [ Exit ] ]

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.