His mismatched eyes caught a flicker of movement ahead, a flash of white darting through the snowy underbrush.

He paused, his breath steady, ears flicking to catch the subtle sounds of his quarry. The forest was alive with the cawing of ravens and the rustling of branches and falling snow, but Ludovic's focus remained unshaken.

As Ludovic crept closer, his lithe muscles coiled and ready to spring, the weasel darted between the roots of a dead tree, its small, lithe body barely making a sound. He’d have missed it if it weren’t for his sharp eyes! Damn! The boy skulked up to the base of the tree, brows furrowed as he stared down into the hole his prey had vanished into. He pawed at the entrance, a huff escaping his inky lips, including a curl that revealed his needle-like puppy teeth. He watched and waited, his patience wavering – he hated the idea of letting the dang thing go!


ludoviciana

The air had teeth, sinking into tender flesh strong as any beast would in the height of winter. The raven furred boy endeavoured to ignore the chill against his soft, tender flesh as he trailed quietly after his brother. Ludo was tracking something, with the kind of unwavering intensity that made him curious. The myriad ravens tracked their every movement, croaking calls echoing through the trees and ricocheting from the walls of the canyon like gunfire. When his littermate paused, so did he. Though the distance between he and his brother's quarry was notably greater, he could still catch the brief flashes of motion against the pallid terrain. Curiosity piqued, the youngster drew forth on cream painted limbs and paid little heed to the soft crackle of frosted snowpack beneath his paws. As his crimson painted brother slunk forth to stare forlornly into the hollow of roots at the base of the old spruce, Indica closed in to stand almost uncomfortably close. Drawing scant reserves of heat from the shared presence and mingling of ostentatious fur. "What's down there?" he spoke in whisper soft tones, an inescapable reverence for the sanctity of the woods as he waited to learn what manner of prey his brother had sought down that little tunnel. Certainly they could put their heads together and bring it back up to the light, if only he could know what manner of beast they sought. "speech"

Ludovic's ears flicked back at the sound of Indica's voice, his mismatched eyes narrowing as he stared into the dark hollow, not looking back at his brother for suspicion he would lose his quarry. “It's a weasel,” He murmured, the irritation clear in his voice. “Slippery little thing got itself tucked away before I could catch it.” He glanced sideways at his brother now, feeling the warmth of his presence mingling with his own fur as Inky got really, really close. Though Ludo didn’t really mind. Too many siblings to mind close contact, afterall.

He pawed at the entrance again, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “I need to flush it out.” He continued, his voice a determined whisper. “Maybe if you can circle around and make some noise, it’ll think it’s me mucking about, and it'll bolt, so I can grab it when it comes out here?”

Ludovic's sharp eyes flicked to his brother then back to the hollow, his muscles tense and ready to spring. He hated the idea of letting his quarry escape, especially after coming so close. “Want to give it a try, Inky?” He asked, his voice a blend of frustration and determination. Charcoal tail lashing behind him as he gave his brother one of their mother’s signature smirks. “Let's not let this one get away.” It would be a nice gift to mother.

ludoviciana

As it turned out, their latest victim was a weasel. One of the long-bodied thieves that lingered on the edges of fresh kills, waiting for the wolves to turn their backs. At the proposition from his brother, that they should try and flush it out with a trick of the senses.. the dark boy's tail began to wave excitedly against his hocks. He nodded his head excitedly, a dagger-sharp grin crossing his features. Yes, they were going to toy with the little beast until it fell to their superior wits! "I'll go kick up a ruckus," he hissed, jerking his chin to the left and towards the back of the gnarled tree trunk. "Don't kill it without me, okay?" he added, trying his best to look stern. With a surprising degree of quiet for a youngster, the dark youth slipped around to the other side of the tree. There were flickers of motion in the corners of his vision, they could have been the weasel, or figments of his excited imagination. When he couldn't see his brother around the trunk, he set to work. Needle-sharp claws scratching and scraping at bark enclosed roots, raining cascades of dirt through the tangled network. Squeaky, furious puppy growls and barks created a cacophony of noise that would have deafened most animals. No doubt any other creatures in the vicinity were on their way out of there, since wolf pups tended to mean adults nearby. "speech"

Ludovic observed his brother's enthusiasm with a flicker of amusement, his mismatched eyes tracking Indica's every movement. “We’ll rip it apart together,” he said with a nod, his tail swaying with a mixture of anticipation and delight.

He crouched lower, muscles coiled and ready to spring. His keen eyes stayed fixed on the hollow, attuned to the slightest movement from the hole. As Indica circled around, Ludovic's focus never wavered. The sounds of his brother's efforts reached his ears, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of amusement. Inky was making quite the ruckus over there!

Poised and ready to pounce at the first sign of the weasel, he muttered to himself, “Let's see how long it can hold out.” His smirk widened as he imagined their mother's approval. Then he heard it – a stirring, a panicked squeak close to the edge of the burrow. He tensed, keeping his breathing calm as he waited for the weasel's mad dash. Just a little more…

And there it was. The little weasel popped right out, right into Ludo's jaws where it met it's swift end. Oops. He was supposed to keep it alive! Looking to his brother sheepishly, the boy shook the limb body, tail lashing as he set his stance like he would in a battle. The offer was clear. Ragdolls were meant for tug of war.


ludoviciana