seasonals don't need cool titles (by fall out boy)

Dread · 04-13-2023, 10:30 AM

While Dread had yet to be assigned an official patrol, he could still do his part. There was something almost comforting about the idea of being alone in the woods. This was his home. This was where he belonged. This was the place that always called him back, always said his name when he was away from it for more than a little bit. The stiff spring breeze against his coat and the sun on his back, he couldn’t help but be in love with every aspect of this place. If he loved it so much then why did he feel… like… this?

There was a strange sort of discontent that had grown in his chest over the last couple weeks. Restlessness, maybe. Was this what all teenage boys were like? Did they all get like this? He didn’t have an explanation for it. Though he thought about talking to Halo, something in Dread worried that she’d go and talk to dad. Dread didn’t want his father to think him unhappy. Didn’t want him to think that Dread was discontent. There was always so much going on in the Armada, and it just… it was never the right time. What would he even say to Sirius, anyway? How does a teenage boy talk to his dad about his feelings?

Dread sighed to himself, moving to the Armada’s borders Head high, gaze bright. Be aware. Be alert. Be calm, but confident. All things he could do. All things he was more than capable of. Patrolling was an important part of keeping the pack safe, and making his way through the woods like this was an important part of contributing. It seemed more impactful than just helping Halo with chores and the market. Dread felt a lot more useful this way.

Maybe it was his way of atoning for his sins, too. Whatever sins he may have committed in his strange magnetism to the pirate girl. Whatever sins came along with those feelings. Shit, too many feelings. Dread had too many feelings. Put some back. Dread almost wanted them to go back where they came from but also… well shit, maybe he didn’t. Maybe there were more feelings here than he’d felt in a while. Positive feelings, but there was fear here too. What happened if anyone found out that those feelings were for a pirate girl. Why did she have to be so charming and fun? Dread kicked the dirt as he walked.

Why did she have to be everything he wasn’t? Literally all of the things. Reckless and bold and playful. Being around her made him feel… Dread didn’t even want to think about it. Around her, he didn’t have to be someone. He didn’t have to be the protector, the caretaker, the responsible one, the Warlord’s son. He didn’t have to be the protector, she could handle herself, but also he wanted to. The pirates lived a dangerous life, and he wanted to keep her safe from that. Was he delusional? Maybe. Was he wrapped in thoughts of a girl he’d never really be able to have without a series of political shifts and changes and mishaps? Maybe. Probably. Yeah.

Dread picks up on the scent of a predator as he moves. Thank fuck. He’d be able to take out all of the frustrations he had toward the very act of feeling on something, at least. The boy stilled, nearly holding his breath, as he relies in a shift of the breeze to bring a better whiff of the thing. Things plural, he realizes. Coyotes. Dread wouldn’t be able to tell just how many until he got closer. Correcting his course a bit to the north, he made his way forward. Keen gaze, steps as quiet as he could manage. The element of surprise would be a friend. With the added benefit that the breeze blew in his favor, it seemed as though it would be light work.

Coming around a corner, he could see them in a small clearing between the trees. Were they scheming? Plotting, planning something. Four of them all huddled together, their backs to him. Dread grinned to himself as he closed in. His head tossed. With a great gathering of his muscles, the young boy sprung upon the nearest coyote. He snarled as he made contact, growling, sinking his teeth in at the back of the predator’s neck. It gave easily under his grip. He made short work of the first coyote, satisfied by the feeling of bones snapping under pressure.

Three more looked at him. Dread looked back at them, slowly and menacingly licking the blood from his teeth. Stepping to the second coyote, one that appeared to be weathered and older than the others, the boy attempted to repeat the process. Without the element of surprise, this one attempted to dodge from his grasp. All the while the third, a female, attempted to go for Dread’s throat. Let her. He could feel the scrape of teeth against his crystals. What a silly bitch. The boy squared up with the coyote that had his focus, letting go a growl and a snap. Teeth glimmering in the light of the afternoon, he’s finally able to grab ahold of the coyote in his sights.

Grabbing the creature by the shoulder and slamming it to the ground, Dread can feel a chunk of hair and skin come away in his mouth. He spits it in the direction of the creature, placing a paw on its neck. With all of his weight, he stands atop the predator. It’s a lot of force to be concentrated all in one spot. Without ceremony, the boy leans down to rip out the predator’s throat. How dare they think they can step over the borders, step into the Armada? Bastards.

Two down, two to go. While the female was still trying to attack him, Dread rounded on the fourth and final coyote. This one had been trying to slink away, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. A few long, ground eating strides, and he sprung upon that predator as well. Dread could feel himself getting tired, but that was nothing. Tired couldn’t play into it. He needed to keep going, push through it all. Jaws gaping, he managed to take hold of the scrawny creature. A bag of bones– must have struggled to get through the winter. Pity to make it through the harshest season of the year, only to mess with the wrong pack. Mess with the wrong patrol. As Dread put a stop to this coyote, he could feel the teeth of the female as they found purchase on his flank.

By the time he grabs ahold of her, he’s bleeding around the hip. What had originally been the puncture of her teeth was now a gash, as she’d tried to hold on while Dread dragged her forward. He’s panting, getting a better grip on her scruff. A shriek, something like a banshee, as he gets a handle on her. His own growl in response, manhandling the bitch. His hip dripping, wet with blood, it’s not the greatest feeling. Still, Dread is pleased with himself as he finally feels the breaking of her bones under his jaws. One more sickening crunch, and the last coyote crumples on the ground before him.

With a sigh, he turned back towards the Col. Probably best to find a healer to patch him up and ward off any infections. Fucking coyotes.

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