Everyone owns a gun deep inside
It was cold… and the giant welcomed it. Snow fell from the heavens above and freezing temperatures touched the land around them. Melanthios knew well enough that they needed to watch themselves in this type of cold… built powerfully they might have been… but they were not invincible. Like any other wolf they could succumb to the cold, get sick, or even die from it.
Not to mention some of the other predators of the land seemed to be disturbed by the cold as well. A large, dark furred feline had been passed as Melanthios made their way into the crypt, fiery gaze thoughtfully analyzing them. The other seemed to be hunting… though whatever it was wasn’t really their concern.
Melanthios paused inside the crypt, shivering a bit. In here it was even colder than before, even if it was out of the wind. Gods, was there no escape from the cold? Their ears flicked back and the creature looked back out into the night. Did they have time to find another resting place? Perhaps… but maybe they could find something to make the best of this place. Some furs, perhaps…
Melanthios took a couple steps deeper into the unfamiliar territory, the hairs on the back of their neck on end. It smelled of rot and death… not exactly welcoming scents. There was also… blood? The memory of the feline flashed to mind again. Had it’s injured prey slipped in here?
The voice of a stranger broke into Melanthios’ thoughts. They turned their firey gaze to a smaller wolf, though honestly it seemed like just about everyone was much smaller than they were. Selective breeding in their line had produced a number of giants… and then there was their cousin who was smaller than even the wolf before them. Melanthios regarded them quietly for a couple seconds before allowing their voice, still a touch feminine, to rumble from their mouth. “No, definitely not a cave.” They replied. Their gaze swept the room, finding some things made of rotting wood strewn about here and there.
“It reminds me of something my mother once told me. A place made by creatures called Twolegs. They walked upright… and made all sorts of bizarre dens and such that no other beast could hope to make. They were… fascinating. Though from my understanding have been gone from this world for years.” Melanthios walked over to one of the boxes and pushed on it. The wood gave way, splintering with a flurry of dust.
“I think they call a place like this a crypt. A place where they bury their dead in mass.” The beast looked back to the stranger. “Care to explore it with me?” The thought of the feline was still on their mind. No doubt Mela could take it, but having company for a change might be nice. “Unless you’d rather not head deeper into a tomb.”
The taller wolf confirmed leonce's suspicions, not a cave got it. They went on to talk about stories they had been told about Twolegs. |
The red beast moved closer to the wall, their fiery eyes glowing somewhat as they observed the symbols on the wall. “Strange… these markings are quite bizarre.” They turned her head to the right and then the left, examining them. “Do you suppose they are trying to say something? A message left from the twolegs, perhaps?” Melanthios looked to Leonce, wondering what he might make of this.
When Leonce heard the other wolf provide a name he started trying to say it himself. "Mela...Melanth...Can I call you Melan?" he would ask, if he could properly pronounce it he would but his tongue just didn't seem to want to co-operate. |