Pounding the gears
The air was tinged with a sickly sweet aroma. The autumn sun, the constant rain, and the natural progression of fruit trees brought with it a particular flavor. There was something off about the way the air smelled, but it was also tantalizing. A soft hum lined the edge of every breath the wolf took. He inhaled deeply, tasting the essence with the finest of pallets. The acidity, the zing, the sourness, he relished it all. The aromas rolled around on the back of his tongue, soaking into his olfactories.
Before long, he was drowning in the smell.
The wolf of fire could almost not believe his eyes. His noes had neglected to tell him of the plethora of prey that gallivanted into the black hole of fermenting fruit. Of course, the ungulates were rather particular. From his vantage point, he watched as they were choosy. Not this one, not that one, but this one. If the fruit was too bruised, or too ripe - in the way that man would see fit - they mozied around the specimen. If it was just right, only a few bruises, still crisp to the bite, then it would be devoured.
"And why shouldn't they be picky?" The wolf mused. His voice rolling from his parched tongue. The orchard offered both drink and meal. It made the wolf a little eager. He inhaled deeply, held the breath and let it out slowly. Composure was once again restored. Though he longed to hunt down a deer for himself, it was unlikely that he would be successful alone. He doubted the fruits would do him any good. Well, if he picked the leftovers, he might have a better time than just good. Stilling near the edge of the forest and river he contemplated his choices. "Let the darkness sleep"
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He was in a mood again today, still nettled by the betrayal of his family, in particular his uncle. He had seen great potential in the two pups he had met in Ruina but clearly their uncle had other plans for them. A shame really, they were born and bred warriors, and they would be living among a herd of sheep!
He swatted a rotten pear from his path and watched as it exploded against a tree in a splash of sickly-sweet pulp. He shook out his fur and snorted his distaste before he continued to skulk through the orchard. He needed a distraction. The browsing animals seemed a likely candidate for his venting, but he was no hunter and had never killed anything he couldn’t break the neck of with his own might. The promise of red hot meat was alluring, but on his own he stood little chance, in spite of his size.
By chance he glimpsed the red male who seemed far too content simply watching the animals pick their way through the turned fruit rather than chase them. He supposed, if nothing else, a conversation would do to get his mind off his uncle and his half siblings.
“Greetings.” He spoke into the silence, doing little else to announce his presence. It seemed he started every conversation he had now with the same word, what he earned from each interaction however differed greatly.
There were victims among the herds. They just didn't know it yet. The wolf was calculating, plotting, deciphering a pattern as he watched so contently by the wayside. The image he had painted on his face was one of bliss with perhaps a hint of, was that cheer? It appeared that as so. The wolf was brewing up quite the different story on the inside. Funny how a mask could hind all the horror, all the gore. The orchard would be red if he only could have his way. Alas, without the aide of another, he was stuck watching and waiting for the illest, lamest prey he could spot.
Valkorion's concentration was pulled in a new direction. His head moved slowly, his eyes remaining on the herd for a moment longer, his lids narrowing as he held onto the image just a second more. When he finally relinquished his gaze he wasn't disappointed. My, my, my, someone must have heard my hunger. He mused. "Good afternoon," handsome. That almost slipped out. Careful, careful, careful, Valkorion. You can't let your flattery show too early. "Tell me, what do you find more satisfying, fermented fruit, or warm meat?" he posed the stranger a question. If he was honest with himself, he hopped the man said both. A little beer with your meal was never a bad decision.
While he waited for the answer he took note of the brute in front of him. He looked fit, healthy, and of course easy on the eyes. Something about a monochromatic man with toned edges brought a flutter to Valkorion's heart. The polar opposite was true when it came to the female sex. Those porcelain dainty women brought the devil out in him. Something about the purity they visually (and more often than not, actually) represented sent cravings throughout his body.
Little sparks of electricity sizzled through the air and alluring eyes settled upon their new quarry. "Let the darkness sleep"
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