Coran lay in the dark of his den, squinting out at the moon that seemed far brighter in the sky than it should have been. He felt terrible. Like he'd run for days and days and his body had finally given out. Fatigue lingered heavy over him but day by day he was getting stronger. Coran still wasn't sure what had happened to him though his caracal companion, the newly christened Achillea, did her best to catch him up. Apparently he'd fallen suddenly ill and couldn't be awakened. He'd been out for a month! A month! His favorite season, autumn was in the process of leaving and already frost gathered on the ground.
Stirring his stiff limbs he carefully exited the den. From his understanding Legacy had been tending to him and he hoped she wouldn't mind him taking a little stroll around the bend. He felt the need to move, to stretch his sore limbs and to fight off the sleep that now caused him to fear. What if he were to fall asleep again and not awaken for another month?
Coran stepped out into the bright evening and began his walk through the plains. His mind was racing with thoughts and he some how knew that his dreams of starting a band were dashed. It wasn't going to happen. He now needed to focus on his recovery. He felt like a failure even though it was no fault of his own. Yet perhaps it was just as well, this would give him time to focus on his hunting skills and in reconnecting with his family. That way when his brother decided it was time to revive Valhalla he could better serve his pack.
Coran's ears flicked back and he looked behind him, pausing in his walk. He couldn't see anything but he felt like he was being followed. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Trying to shake the thought from his mind he continued on, heading down toward the stream that ran through the plains. He paused again, ears swiveling as he tried to catch sight or sound of his pursuer. It was then when he bent his head to the stream to drink his attacker sprang. A massive wolfhound leapt for him, fangs latching into his scruff near his shoulders, limbs wrapped around his neck. Coran yelped at the pain, but swiftly used it to focus. His own fangs darted forward and down latching across the wolf hound's left wrist and biting hard. Being the larger of the two he swift twisted his head both pulling the limb off the ground as well as overextending it. He heard the dog grunt in pain and then bit harder until he heard the satisfying snap of a broken limb. The hound yowled in pain releasing Coran long enough for him to back away and reassess the situation, defenses flying into place.
The hound snarled, holding its injured limb up but it didn't seem keen to back down just yet. What was the deal? It didn't seem like it was starving so surely it didn't view him as prey? Or did it? Coran was in a weakened state, recovering from his illness so perhaps he did seem like potential prey to a healthier predator. Already he could feel his head swimming, the sudden exertion taxing him. He felt like he could throw up. The dog charged again but this time before it could strike Achillea sprang in, her claws bashing the dog across the face. She hissed, her tufted ears flipping back. The dog snarled and dove for her. No! Coran wasn't going to just stand by. He darted forward, willing his mind and body to focus as his fangs latched onto one of the dogs ears. It suddenly shook its head violently, seeming not to care as its ear was ripped off.
Blood splattered the ground and Achillea slipped back to stand next to him, both facing off against their opponent. Coran spat out the ear and snarled, doing his best to look bigger and more dangerous. "Enough!" He snarled at the dog though it seemed not to understand him. Achillea arced her back, turning sideways to also make herself seem bigger. “Don’t waste your breath Coran. The beast is stupid, it can’t speak. It only understands the old ways.” With that she spat and leapt forward, claws darting once more for the dogs face. Coran leapt in after her, fangs digging for the dogs side. He felt fangs latch into his own side but soon the dual assault was too much for the wolf hand and it turned to flee, limping away on its three good legs.
Coran sat down heavily with a sigh. “What the hell was that about?” Achillea shook her head then settled down to lick at her paws.
Cooperative
