Iskandor's ears swiveled sharply at the sound of the stranger’s cry—a wretched noise that gave cause for concern. His gaze darted toward them, his focus torn momentarily from the dying tiger. He saw their form collapse, his brows furrowing. The sight made something twist inside him—a sense of urgency. Without hesitation he abandoned the tiger’s lifeless form, his nostrils flaring as the smell of blood and bile filled the air. His mother wouldn’t turn away from someone in need, nor would he. Iskandor moved swiftly, his stride purposeful yet cautious as he approached.

“Hey,” he growled low, voice heavy with concern. He dropped his head close, scanning them for further injuries. "Hey are you-" he began, until his ears caught something—a rustle. His body stiffened, his head snapping toward the noise in lieu of the fight with the tiger. The tension in his muscles still keeping him on edge, and good thing for it. He needed it now.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he scented the wind, catching the musk of coyote. Damn. He turned his gaze back to the fallen pup, not much older than himself, his piercing blue eyes narrowing on them. “Come on, on your feet. We aren’t done yet. They'll turn you into dinner if you don't get up.” he said, quietly warning them while gesturing towards the rustle of undergrowth. Without waiting for a reply, Iskandor positioned himself between them and the encroaching threat, his stance firm, his shoulders squared.

His mind raced as he listened to their movements, trying to calculate how many there were before the three smaller predators stepped out of their cover—snarling and daring him to run and leave the prizes to them. The tiger and the stranger.


"Speech"

Abyss doesn’t register the stranger standing over them- the way those deep, icy eyes roved across their frame, assessing for injuries. But of course, nothing outwardly stuck- well, aside from the uncanny bulging of their belly, and the occasional pulsation of movement beneath their skin.

The rustling in the underbrush was also lost to them- the world around them is a haze of distorted colors- their surroundings growing darker at the edges of their vision.

On your feet. His voice is calling out again, and Abyss makes out a few words. They’ll turn you into dinner. Their head is pounding, and they feel like they are slipping between a fever-dream and reality. Another threat? Is this real? A low growl resonates from Abyss, before it cuts off into a fit of gurgled coughs, blood weeping from their nose in viscous tendrils.

Several voices followed- or rather, several snarls resonating from a group of creatures. Scavengers. Here to claim the tiger's corpse as their own. Abyss couldn’t see them. Couldn’t smell them. But they could hear them. So they wildly snapped their jaws in the group's direction, sending out a warning. They would fight until their last breath.

"Speech"

Iskandor's eyes narrowed as the stranger reacted to his voice and the rustling, their growl cutting off into a fit of wet coughs. Blood trickled from their nose, giving him pause—his gaze flicked to the bulge in their belly; and the movement he witnessed roiling within gnawed at his thoughts. What the hell??

The coyotes’ snarls grew louder, bolder, growing more assured with the scent of weakness and blood. They wanted the meat they were sure to claim. His focus split between the danger and the struggling older pup at his side. He lowered his skull, nudging their shoulder firmly but not harshly. “Stay with me. Breathe. You’re no use to anyone dead.” Maybe it would help them focus.

Then, Iskandor stepped forward, his stance resolute. His hackles raised, piercing eyes locked onto the biggest of the pack, the one closest to him. Daring them to make the first move. His lips curled back to reveal sharp teeth, and a low, guttural snarl rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Come closer,” he growled, venom lacing his voice. “I dare you.” And boy did that coyote dare. It lunged, fangs snapping at Iskandor's face and the boy delivered a counterattack to seize the little cretin with his jaws in a bid to barrel forward and take the coyote to the ground beneath him all at once.



"Speech"

Abyss’ warning was ignored by the pack of coyotes. The rustling of their paws in the underbrush grew louder. And their snarls, grew more hostile- more bloodthirsty, with the realization that one of their foes was sickly. Abyss couldn’t blame them entirely- the tiger carcass was a hearty meal, and it would feed their group for days. But coyotes were opportunists. Scavengers. There wasn’t a doubt in Abyss’ mind. The pack would try to kill them too.

They were closing in on the pair of young wolves. The boy at their side must have sensed the impending danger- the severity of the situation. Abyss felt a nudge against their shoulder, which earned another gurgling growl. “I will n-not die.” They say through gritted teeth, steeling their resolve.

Abyss felt his looming presence gravitate away from them, taunts spilling from his lips, before snapping jaws and yelping filled the space around them. A coyote came barreling at Abyss, grabbing onto their right front leg. They cried out before snapping at the scoundrel, holding onto their attacker's chest. With a violent shake of their head, Abyss blindly tore into the coyote's chest, trying to force it away.

But one of its counterparts emerged from the underbrush beside them, grabbing Abyss by their nape. Another cry left their maw- only this time, there was a heavy sense of alarm in their tone. Panic. Two coyotes were attacking them, and Abyss was too weak to fight them off alone.

"Speech"

Iska fought fiercely, his every instinct driving him to seek triumph—to destroy his enemy. It wasn’t a foreign sensation snaking it’s way up his nape, but something he’d learn to embrace in time. For now, he summoned all the lessons his father, his mother, even Wylan had taught him.

Grappling with the coyote was much easier than the tiger, only he wasn’t as fast and took many snapping bites in the process of slamming the vermin to the ground. His jaws catching the coyotes side scruff, breath heaving as he lifted and slammed his opponent down into the grind repeatedly as it scratched at his chest and belly beneath him.

But as the coyote was a moment from passing out from the violent attack; a cry, sharp and panicked, reached his ears. His skull snapped in their direction, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the other two coyotes dragging the sickly wolf down. A guttural snarl ripped from his throat.

"Hold on!" he barked, voice edged with fury and command. Without hesitation, he lunged toward the pair attacking Abyss, abandoning his pinned prey in favor of the stranger's well-being.

Teeth bared, he threw his weight into the coyote clinging to their nape, jaws snapping to break its grip. One of his massive hind limbs struck out, seeking to stretch to kick the second attacker and knock it off balance.

He whirled, hackles raised, standing between his ally and the circling predators, his chest heaving as he snarled at the pack. “You look light. If we get the chance, jump on my back and hang on however you can. I can’t take them on and keep you from getting torn up before I kill even one.” Gods above, please tell him this kid didn’t have too much pride to understand self preservation. Anyways, the coyotes wouldn’t chase them with the tiger carcass on the line—that would mean abandoning the big prize for a sickly skinny one. He huffed, peeking from the corner of his eye at the other pup, urging them silently.


"Speech"

Their fleeting world morphed into a blur of flailing legs and snapping jaws- a whirlwind of action and intent, as the coyotes ruthlessly tore into their skin. Pained yelps filled the space around Abyss, the instinct to fight and survive surging through their veins.

But their sickly body continued to betray them.

Their breathing was becoming shallow and increasingly labored- each breath feeling like it might be their last. And the pressure welling beneath their skin- the writhing of creatures flourishing in their belly- was maddening. Why did it feel so intense at this moment? Was Abyss about to face the final moments before their death?

And suddenly, there is a chilling moment of clarity. Both coyotes are ripped away from them, but their primary attacker manages to tear a jagged laceration across their scruff before it's tossed away.

It all happens so fast it feels like a blur- Abyss' vision is swimming, and they can feel themselves drifting. But above them, is the larger, protective figure of their wolf ally. He must have fought the coyotes off. But that didn’t mean they were out of danger.

Jump on my back and hang on.

Abyss’ ears twitched on top of their head, swiveling in Iskandor’s direction to signify their compliance. Stand up. Gasping for breath, Abyss presses their paws into the soil, their legs shaking uncontrollably as they push themselves upright.

Stand up. If they could get their belly off the ground, maybe the boy could scoop them up onto his back. Stand up. But gravity was working against them- intent on pulling them back to the ground- to remind them how weak they’d become since falling ill.

"Speech"

Iskandor’s gaze never left the coyotes as they circled, snarling and pacing, clearly weighing their options for success. His chest heaved with exertion, blood from his wounds inflicted by the coyote earlier trickling into the bloody earth the stranger had already wet.

The sickly wolf was trying—gods above, they were trying so hard. The tremble in their limbs and the labored gasps of their breath clawed deep in Iskandor’s chest. He growled low, a sound meant to hold the coyotes at bay. "You’re doing good," he said without turning, his voice firm but not unkind. "Just a little more. Stay with me, okay?"
With a quick glance over his shoulder, he took in the sight of the other pup’s attempt to rise, their legs trembling under the strain. They weren’t going to last much longer. His decision was immediate, instinctual.

"Hold steady!" he barked, wheeling around swiftly. In one fluid motion, he dipped his shoulders low, powerful young frame tensing. "I’ve got you—don’t fight me, just hold on. Teeth, claws, it doesn't matter. Dig deep!"
With a shove, he nosed under their chest, lifting them onto his back with a surge of strength. His muscles protested, strained from the earlier fight, but he ignored the burn, steadying the smaller wolf as best he could.

"Hang tight, don’t fall." he growled, trying to ease the mood as well as warn them. Then, with one final, guttural snarl at the coyotes, Iskandor leaped into motion. His paws tore into the earth as he sprinted, muscles straining with every powerful bound. The sound of snarls and snapping jaws followed close behind, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Too much at stake.

They had to trust his gamble—that the coyotes would value the tiger carcass over a fleeing, half-dead wolf and their stubborn companion. He focused on the rhythm of his stride, on the feel of the unnamed pup clinging to him. On the growing concern for their health. Every step was defiant, because neither of them were going to die here—not today, not like this.




"Speech"

You’re doing good. Abyss’ gaze flicked up toward Iskandor, their eyes dull and hazed over- they couldn’t see the boy, but there was a look of recognition in their features. Digging their paws deeper into the soil, Abyss claws their way upward, pulling their belly from the ground. The sharp tinge of pain bites into every inch of their body, their legs trembling beneath their weight, as they nearly topple back over.

Stand. The world around them is tilting in and out of focus, another violent wave of nausea rolling inside of their belly. Stay standing. Their breath was hitching in shallow bursts, the look of defeat spreading across their face as they start to sink back down.

They’d never felt so broken before. So weak. So useless.

But before they hit the ground, Iskandor was swooping in- shoving himself between the Abyss and the earth, sweeping them onto his back in a swift, decisive motion. It felt so seamless and fluid—he didn’t give them the chance to falter or protest.

Abyss didn’t realize what happened until the warmth of his body surrounded them- a cocoon of strength and resolve Abyss wished they could mirror. Hold on tight, don’t fall. His voice was calling to them again, and Abyss growled a grunt of understanding.

Their jaws unhinged next, and they grabbed onto his scruff with enough pressure to hold on tight, but not break skin. Their front legs shifted, draping over his shoulders to wrap around his robust chest. Abyss pulled themselves in tight, bracing themselves for what was to come.

With Abyss situated on his back, Iskandor shot off with alarming speed. A rush of air brushed against their face, the rhythm of his movement bouncing Abyss around but they held on, as instructed. Each step he took was a pulse of power, a promise that they would escape the danger together or die trying.

-exit-

"Speech"