Valentine watched with keen interest as a little brown forehead broke the surface of the water. He lay on the bank beside the river with his legs coiled beneath him and his head resting on the ground between his forepaws so that his profile was low. His ears were pressed flat against his head for the same reason. He was not quite the picture of repose, but he was still enough that if anything glanced at the reeds they might miss him in the shadows. Of course it was not a happy accident that he lay so close to the dam's entrance just as a beaver exited it. No, Valentine had known about this spot for years. It was likely that he had even terrorized this beaver's grandparents. "Perhaps," he thought wryly. "Stories of the great blue terror have been passed down through the years." It amused him to think so, anyway. He was going to make a meal of the portly little fellow that now sniffed at the air. Chubby little beavers were good eating in the winter and an old man such as himself needed all the fat he could get his paws on. While he would never admit it out loud, the cold hurt him a great deal. It seemed to knife straight through his fur, sink through all his layers and settle in his bones the instant he ventured outside his den. The older he go the more he hated winter. Pretty soon he would have to start eating a big meal in the fall and sleeping through the damn thing. With a speed that belied his years Valentine sprang forward into the water. He paid little mind to the cold even though it nearly stole his breath away and instead kept his sights fixed firmly on the little brown head. The beaver was fast - it managed to duck below the surface and whip around into the tunnel - but not fast enough. Valentine felt its rough tail slap down on his tongue, but instead of recoiling from the blow that threatened to pop his jaw he slammed it shut. With the beaver caught Valentine then heaved himself backwards out of the water. He backed up onto the bank, the beaver writhing and protesting all the while. After a brief struggle as he tried to sort out the best way to kill it without giving it a chance to bite him, Valentine managed to seize it by the back of the neck. A single crushing blow followed by a twist at the base of the skull was all it took to kill it. Satisfied, the old king dropped his prize and stood panting and shivering as he tried to catch his breath. He could have used a moment to recover from the chill of the water, but it was not meant to be. Movement out of the corner of his eye alerted him to the presence of a stalker. Recognizing the shape, Valentine turned with a growl. God, he hated coyotes. They were good-for-nothing varmints in his opinion. "Beat it you little bastard or I will eat you too." He meant it to. Valentine found the idea of eating coyote disgusting, but he would do it out of spite in a heartbeat. Well, hell. Two more coyotes broke free of the underbrush and to keep from being pinned by the water's edge Valentine was forced to charge at the group and scatter them. He retreated immediately and stood guard over his kill with his hackles and tail raised. While the coyotes had retreated out of sight Valentine was sure they were simply regrouping. They did not approach that boldly without a reason and their reason could not be any clearer. They wanted his kill. Not one to run from a fight even if he was outnumbered, Valentine held his ground. Let them come back. He had been killing coyotes for years and he would continue to do so until his dying day. A sudden explosion of sound and movement drew his attention to the side as two of the coyotes came howling out of the underbrush. Their teeth were bared and their hackles were raised as they charged at him and Valentine could only assume they meant to do battle. He dropped into a crouch and stiffened, his teeth bared in a fierce grimace that promised injury should they get too close. A sharp blow to his side caught him completely off guard. The third coyote. He had forgotten it. Dammit. Because he was completely unprepared for it, Valentine was very nearly knocked over. He barely managed to get his paws under him before all of the coyotes pounced. The group dissolved into a confusing tangle of biting, kicking and yelping. It was hard to tell where one coyote ended and another began, and it was only slightly easier to identify Valentine in the mix by his slate fur. Every once in a while one of the brawlers would scream as someone got a particularly bad bite in. With a howl one of the coyotes went careening away with blood pouring from a massive hole in its face. Another was soon knocked to the ground and pinned as Valentine locked jaws with the third. He stared down the third; a steady growl vibrating their locked jaws. For several seconds they were at a standstill but finally the coyote's resolve began to waver as Valentine's stronger jaws took their toll. It began to whine, the sound nearly drowned out by the screaming of the first coyote and the angry wails of the pinned second one. Finally it could take no more and released its grip. Valentine let go too and in an instant the coyote was off like a shot. He released the second coyote and gave it one final bite as it ran from him. The old king stood still for several minutes as silence fell on the river again. When at last he accepted that they coyotes were gone he sank to his knees on the cold ground. If he had been tired before he was utterly exhausted now. Wounds littered his body, but the worst (and most readily seen by him) was a large, crescent shaped gash across the bridge of his nose. That one was going to leave one hell of a scar.

Also using as Winter Skill Prompt for Year 12 - Healing

Each step leaves a fresh, crisp footprint in the snow. It is as if he spider-witch was the only soul to have ever walked here, yet the tracks of coyotes prove otherwise. She finds one of them grazing on a small patch of mud that wasn't covered in the white powdered snow. She stared. Blood. Its scent trailed towards her nostrils as he took the perfume deeply within her lungs and kept it there, like an addict would do with his first dosage of nocotine of the day. She gasped, incisors salivated. Drooling, the spider-witch was literally drooling, droplets of spit were dripping down her chin the more the woman was eyeing the beautiful, sensual, delicious crimson liquid// She watched with cold, calculating eyes. Her beath silent. She launched towards the foolish creature but not before her limbs were spread and her tail was straighted in order to aid with her balance further. The damned rascal had no chance, it was in the spider-witch advantage fore the damned was already injured. It did not take long, a small chase and her foul heart was pumping with adrenaline until the point it carved a tattoo against her ribcage. It was over in a moment. Her claws were like needles, penetrating the animal soft tissues of skin, applying enough pressure not the murder it instantly but to pin it down under her extended limbs in order to draw the small droplets of crimson liquid towards the surface. It was right where the predatorix wanted it. No escape. No mercy. Not good. Not good? No.No.No.No. NO! The voices of the ghouls made the predatorix to shake her skull, their vocals deafening, like thunders. A closer look upon her pitiful victim and she realized that they were right. It was not good. She could lick the blood from its wounds but the majority of it would go to waste, the animal hide absorbing it and leaving her stomach empty. Blood was the only substance she craved, the only substance she needed in order to stay alive. Any other sickening and weakening her, such was the thought she created inside her diseases mind, the truth (in her perspective) that the spirits whispered. Maybe that is why the woman looked more like a skeleton than wolf. She did not hesitated to sink her murderous canines into the creature hide and drag him towards the bark of a tree. A lowered branch, similar with a stake, quickly had her complete attention and she staked the creature on it, upside down. The stake penetrated the coyote genitals and thus was hanged. It was swift and quick fore her stomach began to rumble and before the predatorix knew her claw already sliced the throat of the animal, allowing all the crimson liquid to rush forward, pooling underneath it into a over sized puddle, mixed with mud and ice. Yes. Yes. Yesss Yess. She sat on her haunches, leaning her skull towards the delicious puddle as she let the animal heart do everything for her. The quicker it beat the quicker the blood was rushing outside of it. Fool. A plush, coral tongue escaped her murderous jaws, drinking everything she could and having her fill as the coyote last yelps were more than music to her ears, they were a symphony on the vast stage of life that brough joyful sentiments within her black heart. Seconds passed. Minutes passed. A full hour went by before the she-wolf departed from the now stained region of mud, the cold blood did nothing for her. It was not fresh anymore. It did not warm her bones anymore. It was soiled. Shameless. She spatted once as she spit on the animal before she turned on her heel, revitalized, energy pouring through her every fibers. Such was the power of the vital liquid for her. This will keep her forever young as long as she keeps bathing in it every once in a while. The spider-witch prowled on, sinisterly creeping, a shadow upon the Earth. Now that her hunger has been sated it was time for her to concentrate of the matter at hand. The moment she stepped foot in this region of land she had only one singular motice in mind and that was to inspect the fauna this region had to offer for her herbal interests. She could not live in a place that would not aid her needs as a toxicologist and herbalist. She needed her potions. And since she did noot had anything to carry them with she had to make sure she was able to recreate them whenever convenient. The first plant she happened upon was one of common rarity that even an apprentice could recognize by the name of Alfalfa. It was the first time she scattered those unfamiliar grounds for their flora and fauna and thus she common ones where the ones she was truly interested in. Being in a unfamiliar place she saught majority and quantity over quality for her first harvest. It was on a patch of dried grass that was not yet completely covered in Mother Winter ivory blanket or perhaps it melted due to the peculiar rainy climates this region seemed to have. If there was one thing on the predatorix mind upon her discovery was that there was absolutely no reason why she should pluck the plant from her roots. That was a apprentice mistake. She did not need the roots not did she had a place to let the roots dry properly in order to use them for medicine, no. All she needed were the flowers of the colour of lavander. And she made sure to offer acute precision as her canines applied mild pressure onto the peduncle in order to them to rip as neatly as possible and to not damage the plant itself. The flowers were the easiest to carry for she could simply keep them within her luxurious, ebon fur until she reached her home, in the Swamps. The second plant she happened upon was Horsetail, however the woman was not surprised at all. It was commong knowledge that your challenge with horsetails isn't in growing them, but in containing them and keeping them from spreading to places where you don't want them to grow. Any fool with a little bit of knowledge could identify it; the leaves of horsetails were arranged in whorls fused into nodal sheaths and the stems were green and were distinctive in being hollow, jointed and ridged. The problem many seemed to have was with harvesting. The predatorix was fortunate enough that the horsetail leaves were bright green and were turned upward which meant that some of them were eady to be harvested and used. She used the same technique as she did with the Alfalfa; her incisors were the best scissors she had from Mother Nature and she put them to good use this time as well. Her ivory incisors snapped the horsetail a few inches from the base, or less if it’s a very young, short horsetail. One, two, three, for. Four were enough for her to carry within her bushy fur and made sure that the strings and beads she possessed as accessories along with the throphy skulls of birds and other small animals aided in keeping them in place. The third plant she happened upon did not happen. The spider-witch mind was preoccupied by the masculiine musk that wondered in her direction and she decided to investigate. After all, those precious hours of night-time were soon to be over and she will once again return to her blind and vulnerable self. Come out, come out, where ever you are. Another meal? Meal. Meal Meal. Came the melodious vocals of the spider-witch as she prowled through the night, sinisterly, her hips moving with a ghoulish allure of their own, the seduction of the night. It was not long before her pace lessened as her azure gaze locked upon a man. Older than her, that was true, but a man nonetheless. This was not the only thing she noticed, no,no. The man had a dead creature next to him. Prey. Food. Blood? Blood. Melodious, venemous vocals replied to the ghoulish voices of the spirits within her own mind. Accepting their idea like it was sacred. There was blood but as she came to a halt several meters from the man she discovered it was not only the creature's blood but also the mans. It was more potens more....fresh and to that taught her mouth salivated. Heed, and listen closely.

Valentine laid there on the ground for a good long while trying to recover. The longer he lay there, the madder he got, because it was this kind of weak shit that marked him as an old man. When at last he couldn't take it any longer he hauled himself to his paws with a disgusted snarl and sulked to the river to bathe. The water was painful, but his anger made him numb to it. The many small gouges and scrapes that marred his skin stung as the water hit them, but he ignored their complaints and focused on cleaning them the best he could. The least he could do was clean them out before he drug himself to Rhythm and let her tend to them. By the time he was satisfied the sun had set. Valentine hauled himself to the shore and shook out his coat before cursing his foolishness as all of his wounds protested at once. He then flopped down beside his beaver to rest again. "Blood." Without missing a beat, Valentine snarked, "Oh, indeed it is! My, my, what a spectacular nose you have, darling." He then turned to look at whoever was speaking. Once he caught sight of the woman he quirked a brow at her, the expression an obvious dare.

An orange haze casted over the moving water, reflecting off every wave. Half of a glowing, radiant light loomed on the water's horizon. A warm sensation was splashed onto her face from the beaming raysof the sun. A calmness flew by with the wind making her black heart stop for a single second. She could almost hear the froze grass rustling behind her as if they were whispering one another to hush. She was not able to see that clear an hour ago but now, now with the come of night time she will be able to see more, hear more and know more than she did.  Finally, the sun disappears along with its shine. But the stars peek out under the black,night sky and she could not be happier, she could not hide her excitement either as cerulean orbs fell upon the man again, taking another deep shameless inhale of the marvelous scent of blood. It is him him him him Fallen King And they were right as always, it screamed from his elderly, aged body. Muscules ripple beneath his soft tissues of skin as she glanced over it, still handsome, that was but mature and advanced in age compared to her young and virile self. Your blood called me. she hissed like a reptile would, approaching the other in a rapid movements. One would not dare to approach a massive man like him while injured but then again, when had she ever played it safe. A light from the shadows shall spring. she cooed softly as she sinisterely creeped closer, her tongue hanging from her jaws dangerously, and if allowed, she would attempt to lick a open wound fron his shoulder. The crownless again shall be king

Valentine's eyes narrowed marginally as the woman approached. Her cryptic words weren't received well and he made no effort to hide his suspicion. He'd just fought a gaggle of coyotes, was littered with little wounds AND had his nose laid open like a bloated carcass - he was in no mood to deal with whatever this was. Craziness was itself a form of weakness. He'd learned that lesson with Dion. If this woman was off her rocker he'd be doing the world a favor by chucking her into the river. Of course it was a bit premature for that. A fistful of creepy lines could very well signal kookiness, but he'd met many an awkward turtle who simply lacked conversational finesse. Not that he had much patience for that either. "Did it now?" he purred back as he got to his paws. "Perhaps I should have a talk with it, teach not to talk to strangers." His eyes narrowed further as she slunk towards him with her tongue out like she was about to try to lick him. Yep, gonna have to nip that shit in the bud right quick. "Look, lady, I like weird as much as the next guy, but if you lick me we're gonna have to tangle in a bad way."

The spider-witch was taken a back by the injured man, he was confident, dominant, a fallen king indeed. His old bones still holding, hm. Looking for that sweet lick. she hissed, sppech impediment still made somehow pleasurable to the ears, Not a time for cheap kick. she finished her dialogue with a point towards his vast wounds adorning his muscular body. She straightened her back as cerulean gaze fell upon the name, inspecting his injuries from the close proximity. She did not succed the licking attempt but she sure as hell did not back down from what she desired. It's been so long since she last had a drip of wolf blood that she almost forgot the taste of it. Deal. Deal. Your wounds will get infected. I can treat you a cheshire grin slowly began to paint intself upon her devilish visage, ear to ear, crescent form with her lips peeling back to reveal her incisors. I am a healer. I can make you good as new, she shifted her weight, pulling her tail around her, for a price. Heed, and listen closely.

Well, this woman was quite the character, wasn't she? He was going to have to disagree with her. This was the time for cheap kicks. "Agree to disagree, darling," he said with a chuckle. He really didn't like the liberties she was taking with his personal space, but he wasn't about to be the one to move first. No, he'd allow her intrusion for now, but once he'd had enough of it she would be the one moving. And she'd be doing it quickly. "Yeah?" he asked wryly. "What kind of a price? Eye of dog? Perhaps the toes of a toad?" Those seemed like safe guesses with someone who gave off weird witch-y vibes. "Ah, I bet I know. With this many wounds you're gonna want me to bring you a virgin, aren't you?"

They called her a lunatic back at home. They whispered behind the black widow back and pulled their children closer when she passed. It was common knowledge that she had a history of mental health problems, although no-one was quite sure what they were. There were a plethora of layman diagnosis and depending on who you spoke to you'd be told in hushed, and sometimes not so hushed, tones that she was bi-polar, schizophrenic, psychotic or psychopathic. Mostly the folks didn't know the difference between the last two and used them interchangeably. She knew they gossiped and stared, she knew and she did not give a fuck about them. She knew, in her mind, that she was now delusional, that she was not sick and this, in fact, was a blessing. She could see better than any of them. God took her day vision bust instead, instead he gave her.. Friends on the other side. she hissed, toxicity raising in her tone, potent and alive. Impertinent. Foooool He does not  believe in us. Show him. Show him. Show him. WE EXIST! Shut up! she muttered to herself , Quiet now. she shook her crown visibly. None of that. her attention returned to the older male, cerulean gaze locked onto his facial features befor elowering her gaze to roam over his injuries and making a mental list of each and every single one of them. All I want in return, a cheshire grin split her face in two, from ear to ear, it was all teeth and gums, is a little bit of your blood. Heed, and listen closely.

Valentine narrowed his eyes at the woman as she commanded someone to shut up. The only reason he didn’t immediately throw her to the ground was because he got the feeling she wasn’t talking to him. Crazy bitch. It was about time he sent her packing. Blood, huh? Color him shocked. The old king laughed rudely, the very picture of insolence. Valentine had never been impressed with wolves such as this one and he was quite certain that she wouldn’t be changing his opinion today. How could she when he found her to be more jester than threat? ”I’ll pass, dearie. Got a sweet little lady back home who will do it for free and keep me warm tonight. None of that blood nonsense.” His eyes lit up with a malicious glitter. ”Now run along before we find out if you float.”

The spider-witch could not help but plaster a cheshire grin at the fool, ear to eart, splitting her ghoulish features in two separete parts. It was all teeth and gums and something that should not be displayed to a younger audience. There will always be those that did not believe in her powers but they will see. The end was near and they will all end under her claws one day, she was the one that will end the world, that will purge the sould of the non-believers and will have their heads impaled to display each one of them. But she shall remain quiet for now. Now was not the time for her. There were bigger fish to fry than an old fool. Fair enough. hisses erupted from her jaws, her speech defect hang thick from her venomous tongue. Wanted I am not however, she turned on her heels, the sound of her claws across the ground loud, noisy as her ebon lips parted without glancing back, we shall meet again. exitus Heed, and listen closely.