You'd think, just by the force of time alone, Morgawr would eventually accomplish something. Even she thought that she might have by now. But she just hadn't made any effort to improve herself and she was mostly okay with that. It was boring, sure, but she didn't know anything else. And maybe, deep, deep down, a part of her was scared. She wanted to stay a child forever, and if she couldn't do that, she wanted to become some dreamlike cryptid and haunt the woods, or something like that. She didn't want responsibility, or determination, and anything so adult and uninteresting. She wanted to make up stories and be left completely alone and unbothered to do so.

Maybe in a world where that would be allowed to happen she would be happy. But here she was, still a melancholy earthly thing, watching those she knew best of all of the strangers in the world -- she had never been one to make friends easily -- rise and make success stories of themselves, and though she didn't think she particularly wanted that sort of life, she couldn't help but be a little jealous. So she was out, the moon high above her, weaving between trees and just thinking to herself as she did, about nothing in particular. She couldn't sleep.

Speech

He gnawed hungrily on the thigh bone of some type of ungulate. Laith didn't know if it had been an elk or a deer, and he didn't particularly care. His focus was more on trying to tear off every last strip of flesh from it. The carcass had been quite old already when he stumbled upon it, but the colder temperatures of the lands around here had kept it from rotting as quickly as it would have in the deserts further south. The moon was already high in the sky, but he'd always been a tad nocturnal, finding it less likely to have strangers come upon him while he was eating his meal during the night. His teeth crunched down on the end of the bone, splintering it with a loud crack so he could get to the marrow within. That was always his favourite part of the larger bones, and he'd be damned if he had to share it with anyone. He kept a single ear facing vaguely behind him, alert for anyone who may try and sneak up on him. There was still enough meat left that a very hungry loner might be tempted to challenge him for it if they were brave enough.

The scent of food suddenly filled Morgawr's nostrils. She veered her path to go towards the delicious smell. She wasn't really all that hungry, but she was curious to see what was up. Truthfully, she just wasn't thinking. "Hey, can I have some of that?" she called to the wolf who was hunched over it as she came up behind him, posture casually confident and tail low and wagging gently. She was only asking. And maybe it made her kind of spoiled that she just asked for someone else's food without thinking, considering she didn't actually need it. But she was bored and tired of being alone and she wanted to have a nice meal with someone else. He could say no and she'd probably do nothing at all about it, so long as he wasn't rude about it.

Speech

Laith had smelled the other wolf before she even spoke, but hoped that she would have the common sense to leave him the fuck alone. Clearly no one had taught her any manners, as she straight up sauntered his way, and not only that, but from behind him. A low snarl rumbled from deep within his chest, ears immediately laying flat upon his skull. In a single slow movement he set the bone down upon the ground and turned to face her, lips pulling back to reveal his yellowed teeth. Sure, it was an intense warning, probably moreso than he needed to give, but she had come up behind him and had the absolute gall to ask him to share. She was a stranger, and he didn't trust strangers. He would be hard pressed to even share with someone he considered not a stranger. At most he'd give a couple scraps to the damned fox that hung around him, but the fox had disappeared off to somewhere for the evening. It'd be back at some point, as he unfortunately found out multiple times. "No," he hissed out venemously, eyes narrowing at the woman. Laith scrutinised her, deciding that he could take her on if she tried challenging him for it. She was barely bigger than him, and he had experience scrapping with wolves far larger.

The man, instead of politely refusing or sharing -- was it really that hard? -- snarled and turned around to face her with lips peeled back. He looked like a mangy rat. Did he have rabies or something? She didn't even want his probably nasty and diseased food anyway, but there was no need for him to be so rude about it. They could have a damn conversation.

Morgawr said so, in her most prim and proper tone, knowing full well that it would only piss him off more but having too much pride to back down now: "I was only asking. There was no need to snap about it." Her eyes narrowed.

Speech

Her pretentious tone had his skin prickling in annoyance, and Laith scoffed loudly in response. She had likely never had to fight for a meal in her life, but he'd had plenty of experience. Being nice often resulted in not eating, and as a lone wolf he had to take every opportunity to not only survive, but thrive. In his case thriving consisted of fucking around with others and getting a kick out of their annoyance. But in this instance he was the pissed off one. "Did no one ever teach you not to fuck with a strange wolf when they're eating? Seems like you lack manners."  Were his words harsh? Most definitely. But he wasn't in the mood to deal with her; he just wanted to be left in peace so he could finish his meal and move on. At that moment he had little care for any consequences resulting from his words and actions.

The stranger just. kept. talking. Stars, could he not just shut up for one second? Morgawr snarled at his scoff and did not listen to his words. She was done playing nice. She was done. Maybe any other wolf would look at this situation and think 'who cares, it's just a piece of meat', but Morgawr wasn't thinking like that. He had insulted her pride, which was a delicate, tempestuous thing in and of itself. And in the end, what did she have to lose?

She lunged at him, snapping teeth by his ears. She didn't really want to seriously harm him, but she did want him to hurt. She wasn't an exceptionally defensive or careful fighter; if her neck was more than a little exposed as she reached her head up and forward, she certainly didn't notice.

Speech

His words had had the intended effect on her, though perhaps he had laid it on a tad thick as she appeared to bristle with brimming fury. Laith had barely a moment to roll his eyes at her when she sprung forward with a surprising burst of speed. A high-pitched noise left his maw at her sudden attack, something between a yelp and snarl, or perhaps a mix of both. Her jaws snapped near his ears, and he felt a twinge of pain in his already torn left ear as a tooth snagged the limp cartilage that remained of what once was a upwardly-pointed ear. Not caring at the damage he would cause - it was already quite disfigured - Laith wrenched his head to the side, feeling a stronger tug as he tore the skin further. Wetness began to trickle down his temple as he returned the favour, somewhat blindly attacking with his jaws at the nearest patch of skin he could reach. He wanted to grab, hold, and shake with as much force as his scrawny body contained, and didn't particularly care where exactly he grabbed. All he wanted to do was make her hurt for daring to disrespect him as she had.

The little noise that the man made as Morgawr lunged at him almost made her smile; she'd surprised him. Not such a big tough guy now, she thought. Her teeth caught the edge of one of his ears, and she could taste blood on her tongue. He pulled away, leaving her with a scrap of cartilage to spit out. Disgusting creature, he was.

But he was definitely fierce if not elegant, striking back with sharp teeth and ripping into her cheek and the side of her face. Blood splattered on the ground before Morgawr even realized what had happened, and though she knew it should not have been any sort of priority in this situation, her first thought was simply that the wound would ruin her pretty face. She pulled away on instinct, becoming even more aware of the frantic thumping of her heart, coursing her life's blood around her body. And if her neck was more than a little unguarded as she made this realization, well...

Speech

His teeth made solid contact, and his body seemed to thrum with energy and vigor. The taste of blood brought upon a frenzy of sorts, and pretty much all of his higher thinking flew out the metaphorical window. The fact the girl pulled away didn't even register to Laith as he simply readjusted his position, now on the offensive. He would make sure she learned her lesson to not interrupt a wolf who was eating, and once again opened his jaws to latch on at the nearest available part of her body. It just so happened to be the most vulnerable part of her body: the neck. If Laith had paused for even a moment he might have considered the ramifications of his actions before biting down, but he was fucking pissed. Consequences be damned. There was a savagery to his reactive attack, and he yearned to hear her say she was sorry and to beg for mercy.

Morgawr screamed.

Blood gushed out of her throat; it almost felt like it bubbled as her paws were thrown up, desperately fighting with instinctual strength that grew more and more futile. She was making sounds that didn't feel real, like a siren high above her but even louder, ripping open her ears as well. All she could taste was salty metal and terror. She choked on her own life's blood and then kept shrieking. No words, no pleas for mercy, or anger. Nothing was left in her soul but the feeling of fighting for her own life. She was going to die. And the irony of it was that she couldn't say sorry even if she tried.

As her vision darkened, her screams gurgled and then were fully cut short. Her mouth remained open but it made no sound, no matter how hard she pushed or how much she wanted to howl for surrender, salvation, anything. It would be horrifying if she had the strength left to care.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Morgawr's life had been short and boring, nothing like the fantasies she dreamed so often of: family she rarely spoke to beyond a few passing how do you do's, a pack she'd never felt a true part of. She was a child still, she saw, and now she would never get to grow up. The last stage of grief was acceptance; Morgawr felt almost at peace as she faded into unconsciousness, with a twinge of resigned regret. She would have no chance to express some cool last words. She would not be remembered.

Speech

She'd ventured into the Pines, beyond the safety of the Armada's boarders, in search of more herbs. The seedlings this far north were interesting, and Halo needed to learn more about them all. Her intrepid companion with his little basket in hand, Mr. Raccoon was just as happy to get out and stretch his legs. The two of them made their way through the trees, searching for new and different plants. Though they'd been in the north for some time now, Halo was still happy to find all sorts of different things growing up here. What she wasn't expecting to find? Trouble. She heard the scream and her blood ran cold. It was enough to chill her to the bone. Even worse? She knew that voice. She knew that voice. One of the Warlord's grandchildren, one of Azure's litter. Halo took off in the direction of the sound, the direction of the scream. sending her companion home for help. Mortis, if he was still there. Basilisk was in Ashen, he wasn't an option. Hazel, Dread, even Levi-- any of them. The Warlord himself. Do not get the girl's parents. Hanako was still too weak to see her daughter in whatever state this was, and Azure? Halo feared what he'd do. It was a flashback to the incident with Hazel last year that Halo didn't need. There was no concern that the one who'd dealt Morgawr the injury still lurking, no. Halo only had eyes for the red girl crumpled on the ground. "Oh no," the words were soft as her gaze fell upon the girl, still a child in her eyes. From the bottom of the herb collecting basket she'd liberated from her companion, the healer took a length of linen cloth, shaking the debris away before pressing it to the wound. It was still actively bleeding, which meant she still had a pulse. Applying pressure to the injury was the only thing Halo could do for it now. "Speech"