paralyzing comfort

*Nibelheim* · 10-14-2013, 12:11 PM

There was little to be said, or done rather, for Nibelheim?s present circumstances. As a wayfaring male there was no definable place for him and that left him bereft of a great many options that his status was not privy to. Safe harbor, to name one, was always a critical concern for any individual who chanced solitary travel as opposed to the heartening gaggle that packs supplied. However the established groups that he had scrutinized for the past few months were of minimal interest. So Nibelheim was in quite the conundrum. His primordial instincts demanded the structure of the larges groups but his higher intellect prevented him for settling for the mediocre. Thankfully, living by his lonesome was not expressly terrible or dangerous ? provided he did not antagonize the wrong parties.

Days had passed in their usual monotony as winter began to inch across the province. Ghostly tendrils of cold wrapped around what vegetation resisted the chill, stealing the remnants of fall in preparation for snow. It had been the gradual decay of plants and equally steady decline of prey that had prompted the crownless king to shift his path to the south; vacating the eastern territories he had been occupying and choosing instead, warmer climates where the success rate for hunting was marginally higher. It had been an over all wise decision on his part.

Nibelheim bore the fruits of his labors proudly, maw chicly splattered with crimson gore from a pheasant that had not been quick to fly out of the large male?s reach. The hen was little more than a mouthful, true, but anything in the leaner seasons was welcome and not to be disregarded. There was no telling when the next opportunity would come so everything was precious, nothing could be wasted and chances must be kept to a bare minimum if at all possible.

The wolf?s ginger eyes sang with the sadistic pleasure that blood-sport introduced, gleaming from their dark sockets as he parted the tall grasses. His plans had been at a standstill as of late but he was content for the most part. He still desired a group but Nibelheim frankly did not host any real belief that such a prospect would be available any time in the near future. Not unless one of the packs was decimated and required new leadership.

A cackle slipped past his mouth, muffled by his catch. He knew his thoughts of grandeur were unrealistic but they were whimsical and enough to keep his mind anchored to the present as opposed to hallucinating things. That was happening more and more often now.

Shaking his head lightly the wolf very nearly didn?t notice the decidedly canine stench with the wild fowl so close to his nose. It brought a frown to his features, eyes narrowing with abject suspicion. Was someone lurking in the swaying stalks waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting in the hopes of relieving them of prey? Or perhaps it was just a band of marauders looking to hassle any that crossed their path? No, it was a singular scent, Nibelheim told himself, sniffing rapidly to discern as much information as he could and hunkering down to make less of a target for the assumed opposition.

One scent, loner, but why? Deciding to investigate the wolf stalked the after the smell and would you imagine his surprise to find a half dead female who looked as if someone had tossed her down a sheer cliff? ?And took her tail as a souvenir...? He thought with a grim smile. The question remained however, what was she doing here? She did not have the build to be a successful rover like himself and others like him nor was she in the condition to support herself. It was illogical, it was ludicrous, and it was just the distraction he was looking for.

Walking wide of the prone form, Nibelheim placed his hard-earned meal at the tip of her nose and shoved his muzzle in her scruff, inhaling deeply. No pack scent, at least none that she had been recent. Banished perhaps? ?Wake liebling, I need to know you are alive if I am to?help you.?

Speech,

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