Mal snickered softly at the boy's dripping face. She wiggled backwards at the sight of his swinging paw, and managed to catch most of the spray of snow and ice along her ribs. "You loooooooooooooooose," she sang. She danced across the snow away from him, tail curled and waving high over her back. It had taken longer than she wanted to find him, sure, but that was well and good. Being thorough was sometimes more valuable than being fast in this game. Even as well as Mort had hidden, he still lost.

"So, ceasefire," she chuckled, and began to make her way back south towards the home tree. She didn't want to get tackled again. "We've got one game left before one of us has to roll in a cowpie. A fresh one, I will remind you." Her head tilted slightly, a growing smile on her lips as they walked. "I say we play it alone this last one. No one else to help -- just us. What do you think?" Green eyes shone as she threw her gaze over to him. She would be okay with either course of action, really, although she did want to see which one of them could win without their companions.

Each of them had won a game thus far. This one was going to count.


"Speech"

He threw another scoop of ice at her prancing, dancing figure. She looked so free in that moment, without a care. It brought laughter to his eyes to see it. She pranced about him, tail and head held high, looking as through she had won all the wonders in the world. She was awfully high and mighty for someone in equal score to him. He pulled himself to his feet, shaking off mud and snow, and shivered. He could just about dream of the sensation of heat across his fur again. He needed to win this game already, if only so he could curl up by the communal fire pit. Perhaps Malalia would join him there, and they could swap ghost stories across the flames.

"Alright, alright, I accept your surrender" he joked, but he stopped finding lose bits of snow to toss her way. She started to walk again, and he watched her for a moment. She was cut from a different cloth to the rest if them. She wasnt vanity and pride like Azure, she wasnt bloody mischief and sisterly love like Asla. She wasnt even the soft and faded sort of sweetness that came from his darling healer brother. He found warmth in the fire of her laughter. He would roll in a cow paddy, if that's what helped to keep the sound alive.

He jogged to catch up to her, and to warm his icy veins. "No companions, I can do that" he agreed. He was becoming to accustomed to Saphs eyes and the leopards speed. He reached the tree and co tongued forward until his head butted the rough bark. "My count to a hundred, then your eating paddy pie!" He warned her.

She snorted at the threat. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," she tossed back. Before he could even start counting, Mal wheeled around and dashed into the forest as far as she could, kicking up a storm as she ran beneath the shattered moonlight.

She needed to end this game quickly and decisively, but how? Thinking up a plan, she began to count down from one hundred as she ran. She would probably be somewhat behind Mort's count, but for these purposes, that was alright. Once she reached about seventy-five, she slowed her steps and veered sharply to the right, stepping as quietly as she could over the earth, diagonally back towards the gnarled willow tree. She was downwind of Mort here, and her pawsteps found streams and old trails to step in, concealing her trail and -- most importantly -- muting her sound.

Her plan? Hide within the trees surrounding the home tree, and when Mortis moved off to find her, creep up and tag the tree. She might even wait a little bit, let him figure out her trail himself before he showed up to the tree. She could imagine the look of surprise on his face.

Soon enough, Mal reached the periphery and hid beneath the root of a willow, dozens of yards away. She saw Mort in the distance, counting down to five, four, three, two...


"Speech"
(ooc: oh mort, my darling boy <3. also, I'm definitely down to continue this into ghost stories after the game ends, if you are :D)

Hia counting was slow and precise, but as he heared her vanish into the distance, he sunk into the earth a little. He was freezing, and folding it on himself helped to ease the chill. There wasn't a dry patch on him, and his nose kept running. He didnt want Mal to see him looking so miserable and foolish at his silly choices. When at last his hit zero, he followed it with a violent sneeze, shaking his head and turning back towards the forest. Right. He had a slippery little trouble maker to find.

He glanced to his companions Jon's, out of ha it not malicious intend. Saph caught his look and raised a wing in a wave, and an apologetic shrug. She wasnt going to say a thing, and nor did Mortis want her to. He managed a grin for her, and glances about the woods. He considered camping out by the tree, making a fire and waiting her out, but that would be like cheating. Instead he moved cautiously forward. He sniffed at her scent trail, and raised his head upwards, looking in the direction it seemed to indicate. He furrowed his brows and tried to guess what her game would be this way.

He couldnt shake the feeling he had eyes on him, so using his remaining mud as camouflage, he smeared it over the lighter markings on his body. That done, he slunk into the undergrowth, and moved a short way away, watching her scent trail distrust fully. He was certain she was going to try and outsmart him, but how?

Malalia laughed internally at his sneeze, and watched Mortis crawl away. From her angle, however, she didn't see the camouflage he took upon himself. She was only thinking about her upcoming victory. Yes.... excellent.... leave the tree unguarded... Her hips shook with an excited wriggle as she slid forward on silent paws through the undergrowth, the tree growing closer, inch by inch, and within sight. She treaded carefully, carefully. She couldn't make a mad dash for it quite yet. If he was lurking around, still, then she didn't want to alert him of her presence.

Unfortunately for her, she was too focused on muting her steps that she didn't notice the wind change, ever so slightly blowing her scent towards the winged wolf.

He wiggled through the undergrowth, and tried to plot out his next move. He also liked to hunch up a little into himself. It helped keep some of the bite of the cold out. If he hadn’t been so darn wet and cold, he might have moved quicker, and gone further. If he hadn’t been a muddy wet mess, he might have lost.

Instead, he hadn’t gone too far when the wind changed, and the scent of her reached him. He perked up his head, seaking out this scent, searching for her. He couldn’t see her yet, she was being too stealthy in her movements. He knew where she was going however, and he suddenly knew her trick. She was trying to go around him to the tree, sneaky little wolf.

He started back towards the tree, moving slow and careful himself. His dark shape scarcely noticeable in the starlight. Malalia on the other hand, her light coat shone when any light touched her, and gave her away. He crept along, closer, and closer, and then he launched himself from the bushes, aiming to tackle her to the ground.

Malalia was making steady progress towards the tree, snickering internally as she pictured that kind, sweet face of his scrunching in disgust as he rolled himself in cow dung. Fresh cow dung, to be exact. Ahhh, she couldn't wait for that victorious moment. Mort would never live it down, and she wouldn't let him.

....But why was there suddenly no air in the world?

She was gasping for breath, a heavy weight pressing down on her, limbs flailing to the sides, and oh yeah, she remembered: an overgrown wolf pup had tackled her, summarily sitting on her goddamned back. Mal felt the bruise of the impact, the slush that clung cold and wet to her underside, and the overwhelming rage that stemmed from her immediate defeat by the Armada heir. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she bucked upwards, and tossed the winged wolf off of her back in a solemn cry: "UGH! MORTIS!!!"

She lost. She really fucking lost, hadn't she?

CHAMPION: MORTIS FATALIS!!!

"Speech"

Mortis pinned her down with surprising ease. She must have been so distracted with what she thought was her upcoming victory. She hadn’t seen his tackle coming, and suffered for it. He looked down at her, laughing gently, as she screamed at him, and bucked him off. He let her do so, leaping free, and offering her a shoulder up, if she wanted it. “Mud monster wiiiins” he said with a laugh.

“I’ve got to take a bath, if you want to help me make the fire in the communal pit, we can warm ourselves there, because… your going to need a bath too, actually” he said, snickering lightly. Of course, he would never actually make her roll in a cow paddy. Maybe they could think of something different. “Say, you can roll in a cow paddy, or we can see who can tell the scariest ghost story.”

She gave a long-suffering exhale, but accepted the shoulder-up the boy offered, grumbling as she got to her feet and looking for all the world like a pouty little cub. Still, she couldn't help but smile when he cheered gleefully. With that, her thoughts turned to her impending punishment. She shuddered at the though of rolling around in that muck, and carrying that scent with her. But, she played hard, and would face the consequences with pride, with dignity --

And Mortis, the sweet boy he was, was offering her a way out, in the way of exchanging ghost stories. Oh, she liked that idea. She brightened at the suggestion, tail swinging easily as she turned to the winner, the Champion Mud Monster with a smile. "I think that sounds like a fine idea, Mort."

And no one would be rolling in a cowpie that night.

--exit--