No. No. No. He couldn't be going soft. That was impossible. He was a cold blooded murder that cared for absolutely no other creature, not counting his sister though at times it was quite questionable. He lived for the trill of killing others, of listening to their pitiful cries as they begged him for the mercy that he wasn't capable of giving. Or at least the one he thought himself incapable of giving. That incident with the little medic Orica had been a figment of his imagination. It had been a pain-induced dream that his mind had made up when he'd blacked out. But as the now healed hellion padded through the terrain, he knew it was no dream. He was good at lying to others, but never himself. With each thudding pawstep, each stretch of his chest muscles, he could almost feel Orica attending to him, disregarding her own safety to tend to him, to keep him from passing on to the other world. In his mind's eye he could see the whole incident replay again, starting from his idiotic hunt of the moose to the next morning when he'd told the marbled girl that he would never forget her. And as much as he'd tried to break his word, he couldn't. It was holding true. He couldn't get her out of his head. Every second of every day since he'd watched her walk away from him she'd invaded his every thought. There wasn't a moment he wasn't thinking about her. And it was driving him insane. The gargantuan man was torn between needing and wanting to see her again and simply seeking her out to rip her delicate little throat out. But every time he contemplated dismembering her, the organ inside his chest twisted so painfully inside him it was nearly to the point of killing him. For some reason he couldn't bare the thought of killing her, of...loosing her. What the hell had she done to him?!


Massive paws beat against the earth at a steady pace, steel like muscles rippling his grey coat, a blatant display of the power lying beneath his pelt. A power that was drumming out a familiar beat inside his veins; murderer. It had been so long since he'd felt the blood of a victim slither down his throat, felt the satisfying crunch of a spine crushed between his powerful jaws. He longed for the pitiful melodies of pain from his powerless victims. He had to kill. He needed to kill. To kill would mean that he was still the samd Demyan that he'd always been and that Orica had done nothing to him. That she meant nothing to him. Because she didn't. She was just some random she-wold who'd happened upon him and healed him. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?


And then a rustling from beyond the foliage to his right caught his attention, massive frame coming to a halt, crown slowly pivoting this way and that way, cyan gems flickering over the greenery, searching for the cause of the rustling. A blink and the man caught a glimpse of what looked to be like golden feline eyes staring at him through the foliage. A low growl rumbled in his chest and he was rewarded with a low hiss from the hidden feline. Seemed like the cat was pretty ballsy to be doing something like that. But before he could investigate his new follower, a tantalizing scent caught his attention, crow turning away from the feline as he lifted his nostrils to the breeze. Wolf. Male. Ripe for the taking. Perfect.





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Following yet another unknown scent. That's what occupied Roberto's daily life and today was no exception. He trotted along, his nose to the ground, following the scent of some creature. He had caught a glimpse of it awhile back before it ran off again and its shape reminded him of the friend of the dog he had met a while back, Euro, Cana's cat friend. He hurried along, trying to catch up with the creature so that he might could make friends with it like Cana had Euro. He thought it would be nice to have his own cat friend to play with so he pushed on, continuing his tracking and searching. He caught the scent of a wolf, but he paid it no mind. It wasn't the cat he was searching for so he felt no need to stop to see what a plain old wolf was doing. He saw wolves every day! Why would he want to bother with that? Not paying any attention to where he was going, he ran straight into a wall of muscled fur. He yelped, stumbling back several steps and blinking his brown-hued amber eyes with surprise. In his path was a huge brute, much larger than he was. Glancing around the wolf, he saw a pair of golden eyes disappear into the brush. He sighed, sad that his possible new friend had gotten away yet again. He turned his attention back to the brute and, pushing away the momentary disappointment, gave the brute a wide, happy grin, his tail wagging behind him. "Hiya! I'm Roberto, but you can call me Bob. Everybody does," he exclaimed, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he flopped down onto his haunches. "speech."

He could feel the familiar blood-lust beginning to sing through his veins, pulsing throughout his gargantuan man. Adrenaline began to pump through his system, his frame tensing in anticipation for the coming kill. The scent he'd caught was of a rogue, so he didn't have to worry about having any kind of repercussions from any packs, but even if it had been a pack wolf, the hellion still would've gone after the wolf. Right now, he didn't give a damn who it was. Male, female, young, old, rogue, pack wolf, whoever it was it, they had stepped into the wrong place today because Demyan was out for blood and he would be damned if he didn't get his blood that day. It would be spilled and he would bathe in it.


Ignoring the feline hidden in the bushes, though well aware of its presence and lingering eyes, the brute turned towards the scent of the second wolf. It was a scraggly black looking thing, trotting towards him with seemingly not a care in the world, too stupid to realize that the gargantuan man was standing right in front of him. The puny thing ran into him, barely even disturbing a hair on his pelt, yelping in surprise as it pushed itself back, grinning stupidly up at him, tail wagging. Idiot. Did he not know that he was staring death right in the face? Powerful jaws unhinged, saliva slicked weapons gleaming in the soft light of the afternoon. The man went on to introduce himself as Roberto, throwing in a nickname that could be used instead of his actual name. Demyan didn't care. Roberto wasn't Roberto. He was just another faceless victim in his long list, another useless piece of meat used to satisfy his blood lust. Bye Roberto. Came his cold, chilling growl as he lunged towards the obsidian wolf, jaws agape, head tucked low in order to get a death grip on his throat. Blood. He was going to get his blood.





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The goofy grin slowly slipped away off of the young brute's face, confusion and fear finding its way into his features as the giant of a wolf snarled at him, his teeth gleaming inches from Roberto's nose. Bob swallowed hard, scrambling to his paws and stumbling backward away from the beast. He had never in his life felt such fear. It was the first time he had stared evil in the face and he froze in terror. The brute's whisper was enough to strike fear right into Roberto's heart, the scrawny wolf scrambling back from the jaws of his attacker. He yelped with wordless fear, tripping over his own paws as he jumped back in a desperate, failed attempt at running away. He fell flat onto his back, his forepaws coming up as he tried to guard his face and throat, a terrified whine echoing in his chest. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, all he knew was the horror that over took him, his instincts driving him to run, to hide, to get away, but he couldn't, his muscles locked and all he could do was lay helplessly on the ground. "speech."

The leopard crouched quietly behind the foliage, watching with interest as the giant grey wolf lunged towards the smaller one, looking to rip its throat out and end its pathetic life. A cruel smile twisted the feline's lips, golden gaze widening in admiration as he watched the larger man begin to dismember the smaller one. He liked this giant, murdering like hellion. He was fearless and ruthless, blood-lust a heavy scent on him. He would follow him around some more, see if he was really the murderer he seemed to be or if this was just a one time incident.


An evil smirk twisted the man's pale lips, kissers peeling back against ivory weapons, a blood-lusting snarl ripping its way free of his larynx as he lunged forward, cyan gaze burning with the need for the smaller man's blood. The realization finally hit the idiot that he was staring death right in the face and he backed up away from Demyan, yelping pathetically as he tripped over his own damn paws, stumbling to the ground on his back, throwing his forelegs up in a weak attempt to protect his throat. Fool, there was nothing that could protect him now. It was all over. The hellion chased after his prey, lunging forward as he landed ontop of the puny weakling, jaws snapping over the smaller man's closest forepaw, looking to snap every single bone in it, perhaps even tear it from the limb if he really felt like it. There would be nothing left of the little man once he was done with him






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The smaller brute gave a sharp yelp and whine of pain as the giant's jaws locked onto his limb, sharp fangs crushing the bone like a twig. Whining pitifully, Roberto tried to jerk away from the brute, twisting and writhing on the ground as he rolled onto his paws, the pain from his forelimb unbearable. The adrinaline but through some of the pain, allowing the brute to stand on his three remaining legs unsteadily, panting and whimpering with pain. His now crushed, torn limb hung uselessly from his shoulder, the segment of his arm from the knee down ripped away from his body. Blood flowed freely from the open wound. Bob attempted to turn and run, stumbling along, creating a trail of blood at he hopped away. He only made it a paw full of steps before he crashed back onto the ground in a heap, quickly slipping into shock as his head spun from bloodloss. He whimpered desperately, his amber eyes searching the woods around him for any sign of help. "speech."

Cut me loose My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle ~*~ It was summer now, not that the northern world seemed to recognize the fact. Come Midsummer's Eve, she would be a yearling. She'd still have a little more growing and defining for her muscles to do, but she'd have reached her full height of thirty-four inches. Her back had become long and shapely and covered in black silk fur. She'd grown into her giant ears and tail a little more, but they were still rather large traits. Milk-white legs carried her through the stone and snow of the mountains, while eyes like twin-cut sapphires took in the beautiful scenery. The sky was clouded and grey, seeming to hang a little lower than usual. It wasn't the best travel weather, but when Orica got it into her head to go foraging, there wasn't much that could stop her. She'd snuck out early that morning, Cross, who lately had been her bodyguard and companion on all her wanderings, had not been around; Probably out hunting or something like a responsible wolf. So the little healer in training had set off alone meaning to stay in the North and be back well before sunset. She'd meant to turn around and start heading back almost an hour ago. But each time something kept her going forward - a spark of green in a mountain crag, the sight of some new bird, the scent of a strange new animal. And then she found the bit of timber woods that looked so much like her birth-land! She couldn't pass that up. The girl had danced under the pine broughs, rolled in the powdery snow, and chased a white coated mink up a conifer. It was as good as the old days. But now she was calming down. She'd need to turn her nose back towards home - That was when the screams came. Well, not so much screams, as high, agonized yelps. The first one froze the girl in place. Her ears swiveled like a bat's searching for any trace of sound. The snow was quite good at smothering things. But she was certain it had come from the far edge of the woods! Before she knew it, she was running again. It wasn't a happy skip anymore though. It was a cold, driven shot towards the break in the pines. She searched for scents and found wolf - but then all she smelled was blood. Someone was hurt! Someone was in trouble! The leather knapsack, her healer's bag, flapped and thudded against her side as she ran hell-bent on finding out what in the world was going on. As soon as she broke the treeline she stopped, staring, her breath coming out in pants that froze into clouds before her eyes. She'd heard the second tremulous whine a second ago, and with it.... with it, the distinct crunch of bone. The first thing she saw was the skinny black male trying to run towards the trees, blood dying the snow behind him. He stumbled, and fell. At first Orica had thought he'd just been hitching up a wounded paw - but now she saw; It had been completely torn off! Wounds themselves never had much of a hold over the girl's fears, but raw violence - that could still do it. And the thought of.... she shuddered, her spine rippling with a quiver that froze half way down. Because now she saw the other wolf. The attacker. "Demyan..." The name came out in a dead whisper. The word was another breath, another cloud in the air. For the briefest of seconds there had been some futile spark of hope that he was just defending himself. Or that he was fighting an honorable match with an equal. But Orica, young and naive though she sometimes proved, was no idiot. Even if she'd somehow managed to cling to that hope - the story of the encounter was written in the snow. This male had just chanced by and been attacked without hesitation. Now he was screaming for his life, running, tripping, floundering on the mountainside. Orica cut felt like her chest had opened up and her heart had fallen to the floor. Of course the smart thing to do was to leave. To run. Now. If she ran fast enough she might just get away and live to see the sunrise. There was no chance she could make any difference in this situation. Any halfblind bystander would take one look at the grey mountain of the male and tell her to flee. The smarter thing to do would be, after she got home, to tell her father at once and have a war party set out to hunt the killer. But Orica didn't do either of those things. She did run, though not back the way she came. She ran forward. Again her lithe little form shot like a black arrow across the snow that she'd been born running in. She'd caught the wild amber gaze of the hunted male, and it only spurred her forward. "DEMYAN! NO!" Her voice came out - not like the usual sweet birdsong or stream's bubbling- but almost like the scream of a mountain wind as it's dragged and torn through the trees- high and fierce and hopeless and haunting. She didn't stop until she was right in the thick of it - standing over the injured male - Hind legs on the side nearest the wood, forelegs splayed faceing the oncoming monster. She'd stopped so suddenly that her medic's bag had been flung off her head - it landed in the snow a pace away, spilling a couple red clover leaves and a dried thistle head. It went unnoticed; Orica only had eyes for the male. Every fur of the girl's coat was bristling. Her tail hung straight out. Her ears pinned back. But her face wasn't creased in a snarl and her teeth only showed when she spoke. Somehow her heart had climbed back inside her ribcage and was drumming like a woodpecker. She was scared now. Really, truly scared. As terrified of Demyan and his bloodied mouth as she had been of his rose-eyed sister. And a sharp, gut-twisting sadness came along with the fear. It wasn't supposed to happen like this! The- the two of them, were either never supposed to meet again - or supposed to meet at a happy time. Orica would be lying to herself if she hadn't daydreamed now and again of what it would be like to see the male on some sunlit meadow - to sit down and talk with him. In her little dream he'd told her that had remembered her, just like he said he would. And he'd said that he was trying to better, trying to be like the white wolf in the story she'd told. What a FOOL she was! What a silly, child's dream! Her hope for Demyan was gone. All she could pray for was that the stranger she stood over like a mother wolf would somehow live - that all this would just stop! ~*~

This was life! He could've almost howled his pleasure and joy at being able to kill again. This was what he lived for. What he craved. The thrill of the hunt. The taste of blood. The terrified screams and yelps of his victims as they realized too little too late that their life was coming to an end. Poor stupid fool. Perhaps if he would've known that a blood-thirsty monster would try to end his life that day he would've stayed in his comfy lil den. Oh well. Demyan's snapping jaws hit their mark, coming down powerfully on the little imp's paw, instantly crushing every single bone in that paw, shattering it completely. The hellion did not release his grip, but instead tightened it. He would've thrown his massive head back and forth to rip it to shreds, but the idiot saved him the work. He pulled at his crushed paw, trying to release it from the murderer's grip but only succeeded in slicing it open. The hellion took the opportunity and swung his massive head to the right, ripping off the male's paw with a single tug. The now useless limb hung from his bloodied jaws, cyan gems alight with a burning blood-lust as he watched his feeble prey try and scamper away, only to collapse several paces away, staining the snow in the area bright red. The entertainment of dismembering.


His prey wasn't going anywhere soon, so the gargantuan took his time, taking careful step after step, his bloodied lips curled into a cruel smirk as he kept a good grip on the useless limb. Salmon tongue ran against the limb, drinking in the delicious blood. Such a delicacy. What should he rip off next? Another paw? An ear? Perhaps he should gauge his eyes out with a talon, one nerve at a time. But before he could do anything a voice he thought he would never hear again, one that had been haunting his dreams and every waking moment, called out to him. DEMYAN! NO! And then before he could process what was going on a blur of ivory and onyx rushed to stand before him, over the quivering body of his prey. Cyan gems took several moments to focus on the figure before him, his mind already having recognized her; Orica. The bloodied limb fell from his jaws, now completely forgotten. Orica. came out the single word, not a hint of a growl detected, but instead surprise. He never thought he'd see his little medic again, and definitely not under these kind of circumstances. He never thought she would see the real him. What a foolish notion.


What a monster he must look like. Now fully recovered, standing at his full massive height, the victim's blood painted across his pale lips, staining his ivory weapons, dripping from his jaws, his cyan gaze burning with the lust for blood. What a sight. Certainly one she would never want to see again he would think. She stood protectively over the smaller male, her bushy tail straight out, ears pinned against her skull, nape bristling. Yet no growl creased her porcelain lips. He could see the look of terror on her face. She was scared of him; terrified. And he hated that look. Hated it with a passion. But at the same time was glad to see it there, to know that she wasn't as daft he's previously thought her to be. Again, he wanted to tear her throat out and end her here but couldn't. She...she was so...so beautiful, standing there over the smaller man, trying to protect him. If the hellion had never known beauty before, he now knew it came in the form of Orica. He stared down at her, frozen in place, not knowing what to do, fighting the two instincts that raged inside of him. I can't...I can't stop...






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The skinny brute couldn't believe his eyes when a small black and white figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The severely injured male felt a mix of relief and fear for the fea. He wanted to tell her to run and yell for help all at the same time. He could only whine helplessly and watch as she ran over and took her stance over him, blocking him from the oncoming attacker. Everything seemed to stand still as the little fea's voice echoed out around the clearing. Roberto panted hard from the pain that radiated from his stump of a leg, blood pouring freely from the wound. His head swam and a soft weak whimper sounded in his chest before he fell silent, too weak to run away. He barely held onto his consciousness, but he could feel himself slipping away. Nothing made sense, everything was blurry. He was terrified and confused, not quite understanding what was going on or what had just happened to him. "speech."

Cut me loose My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle ~*~ A wound like that? Orica had only glanced at it for a moment, but she'd seen enough. With the blood loss and trauma it would cause to the area - that was extremely serious.It left untreated and uncompressed - the male was faced with going into shock and unconsciousness and then bleeding out. There were poultices that Orica could apply and treatments she could give, but healing had to come second. A part of her brain was screaming at her to start tending to the wounds but she couldn't! First things - first, she had to make sure that the ordeal was over. She had to pray that Demyan would just stop and back off. Why couldn't he leave the poor stranger alone?! The skinny male's last feeble whimperings stuck Orica like needles. She herself felt like she was being choked; slowly strangled by the sights and sounds around her. But she kept standing there in the snow; a blue-eyed toy soldier. She knew how grave was the danger she'd thrust herself into. She knew how hopeless this was. Demyan could grab her scruff and fling her sideways without a thought. He could rip her to shreds as easily as he did the black victim. But Orica didn't dread such things because of fear for herself, so much as fear for what it meant about Demyan. It would sever the one last shred of goodness she'd seen within him. No - what was she saying? He'd just dismembered a fellow wolf for no reason! That shred was gone! Demyan was capable of anything now. Orica remembered what he'd said to her when he'd told her to leave. He'd killed many wolves already and he'd enjoyed it. There was nothing stopping him from adding one, perhaps two more to the list of the dead. ...Nothing except a slip of a medic he'd met once before. "Orica." The grim trophy fell away from the male's muzzle, and Orica shivered, willing her eyes not to look at it. But she didn't know which was paining her worse - the blood or Demyan's eyes. What a tortured mix of emotion was there - surprise not the least among them. Orica looked for the guilt that had kept his head hung and his eyes averted the first time they had spoken, but there was none. Orica saw only conflict and anger and the raw lust for blood. "I can't... I can't stop." "Then you'll have to go through me"; that seemed like the most obvious reply. If this had been a far off tale, that's exactly what the hero would've said. But Orica wasn't any grand, ferice hero. She was just a little girl. Saying something like that was just an open invitation for him to try and then what? She'd be powerless against a beast that size. And the truth was... she didn't want to hurt Demyan even if she could - not really. But- but this was going too far! And it was her fault! She was the one who'd saved his life! Who'd believed in him! Who'd kept his soul from passing on into the next world. Instead she'd made sure that it was still here inside the body that seemed to enjoy tearing things apart. At the time... at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. She'd been conflicted yes, but she'd stayed and she'd helped the male... she'd even passed the night curled up beside him, and left in the morning with a warm heart. Had feelings swayed her decision that day? Yes! Of course! One could say that Orica knew nothing of love - but that wasn't true. She loved every wolf! She'd been birthed with such a sincere appreciation for life that it was impossible not to. Even so, Demyan was special - he'd protected her, saved her from the pink-eyed woman. It had meant so much to her then.... And this was how the story would end? With Demyan returning to the cunning, blood-thirsty demon he'd been before? -Of course- thought a little voice sadly. Why did Orica think it could ever be different? Orica had heard tales of bad wolves who had repented and changed and become good - but she'd heard even more stories about the bad wolves who just staid evil. Who kept spreading pain and loss across the world until finally some good wolf came along and chewed their head off. If the girl hadn't been so scared, she would've started crying. This was a sudden shock that went straight to her soul. "Demyan," she panted, trembling. "Please. Don't..." The words came soft and low, having to be pushed out through her choking throat. ~*~

Demyan. Please. Don't... The choked whisper that slipped from her trembling porcelain lips took a stranglehold on the brute's heart, squeezing it until he was quietlu gasping for air, fighting for each breath he took. His chest felt tight; too tight. It was like there wasn't enough air for him to breathe which was ridiculous because they were out in the fresh air in the mountains. He had to get out of there. He had to get away from Orica. He had to kill her. He had to talk to her, to get her to understand what he couldn't understand about himself. He didn't know what to do! His mind was screaming a million different things at him and yet his massive body would not move from its frozen state. Cyan gems remained trained on the medic's sapphire ones, reading the frantic terror that seemed to overwhelm them. There was a pained whimper from his victim but Demyan paid it no mind. He was much too focused on Orica to pay attention to anything else.


Hel...Help...me... Now it was his turn to choke out his words, his breathing becoming ragged. He could feel the blood-lust raging through his veins, roaring to be satisfied, whether it be by his original victim's blood or by the medic's. No! He couldn't hurt Orica...He wouldn't hurt her...would he? Bloodied lips peeled back in a snarl, no sound emitting from his larynx, audits flattening against his crown. What the hell was she doing to him?! The thought of killing another wolf excited him, but even ruffling a single hair on Orica's body brought physical pain to the man, much worse than anything he'd ever felt before. Why did his chest tighten with every moment that passed between them, their similar azure gems locked for what seemed to be an eternity. What was wrong with him?! He should've torn her to pieces the moment she'd interrupted his kill and yet here she was again, standing completely intact, squaring off with him despite knowing that she had no real chance against him if he decided that he was really going to take the smaller man for his prey. What was it that drove her to help others? To protect those who couldn't protect themselves? He would never understand?


Slowly the gargantuan came back from his frozen state, only enough to take two steps back, widening the gap between himself and Orica, his muzzle still crinkled in a silent snarl as he lowered his head, ears remaining flat. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to make sense of the churning emotions swelling inside of him, the blood-lust disappearing to give way to guilt and confusion within his cyan gaze. He wanted to leave but his body would not follow his commands. It would not move so he stayed, his pained cyan eyes never leaving Orica's. What was happening to him...






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Cut me loose My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle ~*~ Almost as soon as the words had left Orica's mouth, she had believed them futile. She swallowed hard, unable to look away from the cyan eyes that now boiled with rage, now seared with - with what? "Hel...Help...me..." The words caught the girl off guard. Then- then he really was struggling with this? Maybe, just maybe he could still make the right choice. Gods above, she had been so terrified when she'd broken through the treeline. Horror was the only word to describe it. B-but maybe she'd given up too quickly. His words... he needed her. For a moment it was like there was absolute silence. No stormy wind through the stone shelves, no rustling trees, - nothing. Except for the gentle, muted crunch of snow as one... two... three steps were taken forward. Her fur was still tingling, her hackels were still raised like a scared cat's, and her ears were still back - she knew she was in danger. Every tiny tremor or shiver that ran through the man could mean death a heartbeat later. ... But he had asked for help. In that one moment he had sounded so torn and confused and pained. And Orica was doing the only thing she felt she could. She was close enough now that their chest fur brushed ever so slightly. Orica's head tilted back, white chin raised to show a tight, bobbing throat. That snarl was still etched on Demyan's face, but Orica did her best to ignore it. She whined softly, a single note meant as a wordless plea. The girl brought her face right up to the beast's jaws, and flicked out a soft, pink tongue. Assuming the male didn't suddenly move to pull away or snap her neck, a gentle lick would planted on the side of muzzle which was wrinkled and taunt with an unheard growl. There. Orica couldn't be sure what had moved her to do such a thing, but it could only be from the deepest well within her spirit. The touch was gentle and sweet, meant to console, like the kiss a mother gives her child to banish away the nightmare's from it's head. ~*~

He didn't ask for help because he never needed help. He wasn't the type of beast that others would be inclined to help, given he was more likely to rip their throats out before they could do anything. Orica though, she was a different kind of wolf all together. She was a brave yearling who seemed to be more concerned with the well-being of others than of her own. She was a selfless little creature and maybe one day, if the beast learned to be good, she could teach him a thing or two. She was most likely everything that Demyan ever needed in another wolf but had never realize. And still couldn't realize because of the confusion. He couldn't understand why he was so different towards his little medic, why she out of all the wolves he'd ever met in his life had such a powerful effect on him. She was no one special, had no special abilities besides being able to heal the injured or sick. Did that make her an angel? Possibly. He wouldn't know. All he did know was that every time he looked into her sapphires, he was reminded of every single wolf he'd ever killed in his life and it made him hate himself. So much so that he was beginning to think that she should've left him to die out by the willows that day. He was a monster, undeserving of a second chance. Unworthy of being in the presence of such a creature as Orica.


His massive frame trembled with the effort of keeping his churning emotions locked up inside of him, well away from the marbled yearling. The silent snarl stayed plastered across his bloodied lips, torn between the want to kill her and get away from her. He'd asked her to help him, for reasons unknown to him, but would she? Could she even help him? He wasn't physically injured like the time before. What could she possibly do to help him? He was far beyond the realm of possible help. He was a cold blooded murderer. What could a healer do to fix that? He looked down to her, watching as she took one, two, three steps towards him, closing the gap he'd made, his steel-grey chest brushing against her porcelain one. His stomach twisted at the contact, her soft pleading whimper sending the organ in his chest going into over drive. Was it safe for her to be this close to him when he was back at his full potential of power?


And then she did the unthinkable. The little medic raised her muzzle, her tiny salmon tongue lashing out to caress his right cheek in a soothing kiss. Demyan's eyes shut closed of their own accord, the silent snarl disappearing from his bloodied lips as his frame collapsed to the snow, the trembling having increased ten-fold. All thoughts of killing fled from his mind, leaving behind only one; Orica. He cowered before her, his cyan coming back into view as he slowly opened them, allowing them to raise up to meet her sapphire ones. What had she done?





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Cut me loose My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle ~*~ At that one simple touch, something changed. Orica didn't know what she had been expecting - a sigh, maybe? A step back? That was at best! At worst she had feared that he would ignore her completely, brush past her and start in on the poor black male again. But Demyan didn't do any of those things. His eyes closed, his snarl vanished, and he dropped down to the snow. It was reminiscent of how he'd laid when they first met, though he'd looked less winded when the moose had kicked him. Orica was so stunned- and thankful too. She couldn't believe that it might be that simple. And there it was. The subtle realization that had been escaping her from the beginning. If any other wolf had come racing up to him and pleaded with him to stop, would he listened? He liked her. And not just as a little friend sort of thing, either; his reaction was too powerful for that. "Oh, Demyan..." Orica murmured sadly. What had he done? How could he be both so shy and so murderous at the same time? How could he rip into another wolf like that? A shaky inhale made it past the girl's parted jaws. She couldn't figure this out now. She just couldn't. Her healer's drive was kicking into gear. Demyan was subdued for the moment and if she didn't attend to the black male now, it was quite possible he would die. He'd already seemed to have gone unconscious - if he lost too much blood, he'd never wake up. Orica sniffed, stiffling back tears that she hadn't realized were already dampening her cheek fur. This was so much more than any yearling was supposed to have to face, let alone actually deal with. Didn't matter. She was here and she had to do what she could. She left Demyan's side and snatched up her medic's bag before coming to the victim's side. She'd never dealt with a severed limb before. All she could do was apply the basic healing measures and a little common sense. She could do this right? She blinked away the wetness from her crystal blue eyes and started lapping at the severed leg. Without really thinking about it she was trusting Demyan - she'd just seen him try to shred a wolf and yet she was trusting enough to turn her back and focus wholely on the stranger. Maybe it was good that the black male was unconscious for this, otherwise ever touch to the twisted, broken flesh would've been absolute torture. Orica could see the white stumps of bone - there were places where the smaller ones had been turned to shards. She had to get those out of there and clean the wound. Within a minute, Orica's jaws were as bloody as the attacker's. There - it was a clean enough break now, but it was still bleeding so much. She started grabbing up mouthfuls of dandelion and plantain and comfrey from her knapsack, chewing them into a paste, and licking them on the wound - but she knew that wasn't going to be enough. She could press the leg into the snow to help keep it cool, but it was still going to bleed. And if she tried to put any pressure on it then the snow would just melt away. This was infuriated! If only she had something she could use to stitch the peices of skin over the wound. Prickles like on those cacti she'd seen in the south would've worked. Or porcupine quills. But she didn't have any of those. All she had around here were the flimsy pine needles on the confiers- That was it! Pine trees! Pine trees meant that yellow-brow sticky goo stuff - Pitch! That would be perfect! Without a second thought she was leaping over the fallen male and dashing back towards the tree line. ~*~

He'd been touched before. Plenty of times. By his victims as they feebly tried to run away from him. By his sister each time they fought or fucked. But Orica's touch was different. There was no desperation to it, no fear, no anger, nor hint of lust. It was a gentle touch, meant to soothe, a touch of the purest intentions. It was a touch that he had never felt before in his life and if he was being honest with himself, he wanted it again. But he shouldn't like it. Good things weren't meant for those who did bad right? When Orica kissed him, it was like suddenly all the evil in him, all the bad, was banished. To where he didn't know, but for those brief few moments he felt like a completely different man. A man that maybe wasn't as bad as he'd always thought himself to be and could just possibly be good. But it only lasted for a few moments.


Oh Demyan... Her voice was so sad as she murmured his name. Was she finally realizing how pathetic he really was? Or that she truly couldn't help him? Whatever the case, the medic in her was taking the reins and he watched her as she turned away from him, going to attend to the injured brute. A bout of jealousy sparked in his chest at the sight of her touching the other man as she tended to him. He was the only she could touch. But then, who was he to say who she could and couldn't touch? He had no claim over her; she could do as she very well pleased. And it wasn't like he would stop her anyways.


He waited until she was deep into her medic mode before lifting himself to his paws, watching as she bounded back to the tree line, most likely to fetch something. Seizing the opportunity Demyan turned and ran, away from Orica to god knows where. A flash of spots and he knew the feline that had been watching him earlier was following. He didn't care. It could follow him all it wanted. Powerful limbs propelled the hellion through the foliage, unknowingly heading towards some caverns. He didn't realize he was inside them until the sound of his talons clicking against the stone hit his ears, accompanied by the softer clicking of the cat's claws. He turned to look at the feline, its golden eyes glowing in the darkness of the cavern. The cat said nothing, simply watched him, its long tail flicking behind its spotted haunches. Demyan turned away from the cat, massive skull hanging low between his shoulders. Hopefully Orica wouldn't follow him. He didn't know if he could take much more of her.





Talk like this

Cana had been wandering around most of the day, no destination set in her mind, just going where her paws led her. Hop. Hop. Hop. The little wolfhound hopped around like a rabbit, going from one bush to another. After meeting that one wolf Bob she didn't run into another being besides the small critters Euro and caught, they weren't as fun, just ran away whenever she came near them. With a shake of her head the dog hopped again, landing on a decently large rock.

That's when it hit her. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. "Euro..." Her voice was soft, head slowly turning to the side and looking down at the feline that came up beside her. His brows came together, nose twitching as he sniffed at the air. "Easy girl, it's just blood." He told her calmly, looking at the dog a little confused. She definitely knew what blood was, and shouldn't have had that worried look on her face. It could have come from a fresh kill.

"Euro, Cana feel weird. Blood not just blood, there wolves close and one smells like Bob." She informed him, stepping down from her rock and taking a few small steps forward then stopping to look at the feline. "Cana go look, see if Bob share food with Cana and Euro." She said before moving on, the feline just shaking his head but quickly following behind her.

Within minutes of following the trail three figures came within sight a few yards away. Cana's tail start t wag, a large grin coming upon her face, closing the distance between her and them. As she got closer though one of them, a large wolf, took off. Cana stopped, head tilting to the side in curiosity, holding that pose a few seconds before turning to look at the other two wolves.

What she saw scared her. Dark eyes fell upon Bob laying on the ground, a wolf licking at his blood covered paw... no, where his paw used to be. Eyes went wide, bottom jaw dropping. Bob, her new friend just lay there, whimpering softly. Cana took a step back, tail going between her legs. Step, step, step, bump. Her head swung down to look at what she had bumped into her, and what she saw caused the hound to jump to the side with a whine.

Euro came jogging over, ears alert, his gaze falling onto Cana, wondering why she whined. "Cana, what's wrong?" He asked, his gaze following hers and falling upon the paw laying on the ground. He gulped.

"No, no!" She whined, suddenly dropping herself, picking up the paw gently in her jaws then turning and quickly bounded over to where Bob lay just as the other wolf ran off towards the trees. She dropped the paw near his leg, lowering her head and licking at his cheek. "Cana here Bob! Cana your friend, remember?" She spoke softly but quickly, panicked. She turned to the paw, using her own to bring it close. "Looky, Cana bring your paw. We put it back on then Bob be okay." With that she grabbed it gently in her jaws and pushed it against where it had been severed, moving it around, trying to get it to go back on.


"speech"

Awesome table by Muse <3

Cut me loose My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle ~*~ The pines were perfect - and this far north there were enough that had been toppled by the elements for Orica to be able to get right at the sappy insides. Of course there was the problem of the sap being rather frozen - but by digging with her claws post the top layer she was able to get at little bits of the substance. Having no good way to carry it all, she bit at it, going from one tree to another and collecting enough of the gummy, gluey substance to make a decent mouthful. Her teeth would feel weird and sticky for a while, but the good side was that it warmed up the pitch, making it more maliable and spreadable. She went racing back towards the treeline and the open, snowy grounds... but when she got there... Demyan was gone. Her heart forgot to beat for a second. Gone? How could he just be gone? Should she have said something? Should she have asked him to stay? Oh she didn't know what to say. What could be said at such a time? She'd chosen to focus on the male who was near death, but she recognized that Demyan also needed help to. She didn't know how, but perhaps she could manage to give him some. Or such she had thought before he'd disappeared. In his place was a stranger. No - two. Orica saw them arriving, freezing at the sight of the lost paw and then charging forward. What a bizarre pair. One was a feline; Orica had seen their type in Glaciem. Was it bobcat? No - Lynx! That was it. As for the canine she had no idea what she was. Some kind of strange wolf-coyote hybrid, perhaps? Orica didn't have any sort of prejudices against mutts, she herself, was one sixteenth doberman on her father's side! But she couldn't wrap her head about what they could be doing here. ...Until she saw that the canine was trying to nudge the severed paw closer to the stump. In her own ignorant way, the stranger was trying to help. It was pitiful and tragic enough to make Orica start crying all over again - but no - no she had to be strong, espically now that more people were here. The little healer came bounding forward, coming up from behind the fallen male. Her mouth was too full of the sticky pitch to make any sort of explanation, but she hoped that she looked sweet and helpful enough. With her bushy tail and her large awkward ears and her baby blue eyes, it wasn't too far fetched. She didn't have time for pleasantries anyway. Whining some sort of wordless 'excuse me', she did her best to lean over the black male's body, and lick her load of pitch onto the wounded area. It wasn't very easy - more like molding precious amber colored clay than spreading sap. But when it was done, the wound was sealed over. Admittedly, it was a field patch. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't clean cut, but it was working. Blood was only seeping through in a rare drop - not a ruby stream as before. There was still much more that needed to be done. But first things first. "I'm sorry-" murmured the medic quickly, dipping her head, and stepping back to stand on the other side of her pacient. "My name is Orica, I-I'm a healer. - The paw has been severed and it can't be reattached, but at least the bleeding has stopped now. - Do you know this male?" She wasn't trying to figure anything out any more. There was too much going on. She just asked the question and waited. ~*~

Everything was so foggy. He groaned, his eyes blinking open and sliding shut again. The last thing he remembered was a flash of black and white wolf standing over him and blood coming from his leg... His eyes opened again, frantically looking at his leg. His paw and a small portion of the shaft of his leg, up past the bottom joint his guessed, was gone. A few inches away, he spotted his dismembered paw, only adding to his shock. His brain was slow to comprehend this fact. The stump of his leg was covered in some kind of sticky golden colored stuff so at least it wasn't bleeding any more. The pain came crashing back on him, making him dizzy, along with the massive amount of blood loss he had suffered. Roberto was more than confused, he was down right befuddled. He couldn't make sense of anything. Nothing made sense to the brute. A scared whine left his throat. Glancing up as his vision began to clear somewhat, he spotted the black and white wolf he had seen earlier and a taller, gray canine... Wait a minute... "C-cana?" he croaked out, his voice weak and cracking. Despite his head spinning and his body aching terribly all over and his stub of a limb feeling like it's on fire, he managed to pull on his signature goofy smile for her, his tail wagging weakly a few times before laying still again. "speech."

"Euro! Euro! Bob's paw no go back on!" She whined, letting go of it only to try nudging it over, still trying to get the paw to reattach to his limb. She was confused, so very confused. Why wouldn't it go back on? Was it broken? Did Bob need a new paw? A new paw! Her head shot up, turning over to look at the feline who had pulled himself together and was making his way over. With tail up she turned to him, lowering her head to be leveled with his. "Euro, his paw broken, we need to find him a new one, new paw will go back on!"

"Cana, stop!" He hissed, raising his paw and smacked her across the cheek.

Cana stood there staring at him with wide watery eyes, a single tear running down her cheek, through a small trail her hairs created so it slide right off and hit the ground. She had been panicking, her body giving off her fear like waves. Euro knew she was scared by the sight even if it wasn't very graphic, but this was the only way he knew she would calm down a bit.

"His paw won't go back on, that's not how it works." His voice held a softness meant only for her, sitting back on his hind-legs, using his front paws to push her back around. "You are his friend yes? Then stay with him and don't freak out!" He tried comforting her even though it would most likely not do much. This poor male would be way more scared than Cana was so she needed to pull herself together and be strong for him, he needed somebody he knew to show him there was no reason to be scared.

Cana continued to stand there, frozen after Euro had slapped her. Lips quivering she listened to what her friend told her, a whine seeping from her lips when he told her the paw would not go back on, then proceeded to push her over to the wolf and told her to be there for him if she was his friend. She nodded her head slowly, gulping, and flinching when one of the wolves returned with a mouthful of stuff.

The hound moved out of the way, standing just behind the girl as she worked, her gaze looked into Bob's eyes, waiting for them to open. Within moments she was done, apologizing to Cana which made her look confused. Why as the pretty lady saying sorry? She said her name was Orica and was a healer, then went on to talk about his paw that only made a soft whine come from Cana. "Bob is Cana's friend." She told the lady, Orica, not taking her eyes off the dark wolf laying on the ground.

Euro remained a few feet away, sitting on his haunches, watching. Something in his eyes giving away he was worried about the dark male, even though he barely knew him.

"Bob!" She barked, tail wagging at the sound of his voice. The little hound moved forward, licking Bob's cheek a few times then pressing her forehead against his gently. "Bob scare Cana! You mean friend! Bob make Cana sad!" She spoke quickly, happy to see her friend open his eyes and talk. Bob would be okay! Cana will have her friend still! She pressed her face against him, rubbing it all into his fur with her tail wagging like mad behind her.


"speech"

Awesome table by Muse <3

Cut me loose My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle ~*~ Luckily the wire-haired stranger seemed less curious about Orica's presence than Orica was about her. She just sort of accepted the little healer's help and sat off to the side - saying only that the injured male was her friend. At least, that's what Orica thought she was saying. The strange canine's muzzle fur made her look so old - but she had the energy of a yearling and the speech pattern of a pup. Of the two, the cat seemed more sensible and in control, but, at least while Orica was around, he didn't say much. That was when the black male started moving. Orica didn't act quick enough to keep him from looking at his leg, but at least the sight of it didn't sent him back into a swoon. He was able to hang onto consciousness despite the pain that was no down burning like a fire through his body. He needed some kind of pain medicine. Orica had some willow twigs but those wouldn't be strong enough. She took a little hop towards her bag - What else did she have? But her eyes were drawn back to her pacient as he spoke. Gods above, he even smiled and wagged his tail - all for the strange girl. She looked overjoyed. "Bob", it seemed, had a very loyal friend - possibly even an admirer. Even as Orica began to smile, however, she felt a pang of pain twist her insides. To think... this is what Demyan would've destroyed. Enough damage was done as is, of course, but - if he had kept going... Orica shook her head feircly. It didn't bare thinking about. She was working hard. She could keep this male alive. It would be okay. No one had to die. This story could still have a happy ending for those two. As for Orica.... she didn't know. "Please you must take it easy," Orica said to both of them ever so gently. At another time she might've chuckled at the grey girl's antics, but any laugh would've caught in her throat. "Here," said the healer, depositing a thin, waxy root before the black male's muzzle. "This'll help with the pain." Poppy root. She'd found a feild of the gorgeous yellow flowers while on her sojurns in the south. Boy was she happy that she'd taken the time to dig a few up. "You're safe now," she went on, hastening to soothe whatever fears might lay in the male's mind. "You're-you're gonna be okay." She meant that. She really did. It had been touch and go there for a bit, but the fact that he had come out of that shock induced blackness, meant worlds. The pain had to be terrible, of course, and he'd be handicapped at some level for the rest of his life - but he was still going to have a life. A life with friends it seemed. Who could ask for more? Speaking of asking- Orica didn't know what she was going to do if the male started spouting off questions. She didn't want to think about Demyan right now. She just wanted to be happy for this odd trio of friends. Why couldn't she just be happy? She'd saved a life! She should be ecstatic. ....But no. Because somewhere deep down she felt that she was, in a way, responsible for the incident in the first place. She was the one who'd healed the marbled grey hunter, even when he'd professed to be a killer. She'd let this happen. And she only wished she could do more. ~*~