Bone Collector

He’d been the first to wake. Those sharp flames that would soon become sizzling fire peering out of the den’s entrance.

For a second, they shifted to the sweet beckoning perfume of his mother. Her various colorations of brown captivating as he did nothing but stare. Observing every inch. strand. Twitch. Voorhees wanted to do nothing at the moment; except, what he was doing now. So young and yet beyond entranced by the woman who’d given him life.

Time passed by for him with a blink of an eye. From suckling on the nipple that provides him nourishment. To now rising, quite wobbly, on large paws and growing limbs. Another scent calling to him. One of interest. He’d smelled this before. Death. Morag having carried the aroma on her coat quite often. Especially in the breath fanned across their face whenever she’d urge them to urinate.

It fascinated Voorhees. A feeling casted over his mind and thoughts like a cloud blocking the sun.

He left. Maneuvering the den’s path until the smallest glint of light touched those flickering sparks that squinted against the intrusion. So used to darkness. The young pup gave a low growl of disappointment. Features easily morphing into such a display. Voorhees did not like the sun.

One step after another. He found himself wandering away from protection. Occasionally noting the entrance still remained within sight. Something had fallen to its demise. A carcass far larger than himself. Bones protruding. Some still coated in the red mass of muscle and decaying flesh. He could do nothing but sniff. Inhaling the fumes of the deceased.

Would mother be proud if he brought home a gift? Voorhees looked over the animal. Choosing a rib bone which, luckily for him, rested just off to the side. Little teeth and open jaw, he tugged as hard as he could. Dragging his prize back to where his journey had begun with a high wag of his tail.
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 There is movement in the den, shuffling paws that make the nightmare's eyes peel open. He is awoken from a deep sleep where he is the shadow in the valley, closing in on something much smaller and shaking. A grumble comes from the youth's mouth as he reaches up a paw up to rub over his eyes, but there is no going back to sleep. Blood red beads peer from deep within the cave, close to his mother's back legs, his head resting over her calf. He watches Voorhees waddle towards the edge of the cave, and then disappear from the mouth of it. Krueger stretches, letting his whole body strain against the small constricts of his skin before he finds himself getting up from his sleepy state. The young man swipes his paws on the pelt that decorates the bottom of the den, a black wolf's before slipping out after his brother. 

 The smell of death becomes apparent as Krueger crawls out from the den, like a demon crawling through the crust of the earth. The scent of demise rakes through him, igniting something in his throat. A deep, primal sound that emanates as if it is coming from a much bigger creature. He is blinded by the light, wincing back into the den for a mere second at the sun's rays. It is dimmed by the fog, but still unfamiliar to Krueger. It is made apparent that it is not beloved by the murder siblings. As soon as his eyes adjust, they find Voorhes not far off, ripping at a corpse. 

 "Is that for mama?" Krueger's voice is toned deeper than a young pup's should be. It is guttural and from his chest, a bass desired by men and not children. He sat up a little higher than his brother, watching him tug at the bones and try to drag it back. "Ya think she wants that stinking the den up?" He asked, hopping down to where his brother was with a gleaming smirk. 

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The voice which greeted him did not belong to the sickening softness that belong to his mother. No. This one made him snarl in a way not imaginable for a pup so young. Quickly forgetting the rib bone. ”I find the smell to be enticing.” Voorhees spoke with a tone of darkness. Each word dripping with deep silken vocals. Wrapping in a feral growl. ”What do you want, Krueger?”

He watched the nightmare through dimmed lids. Since leaving the womb, they did not get along in the slightest. Fighting over the same nip. Small brawls he knew would soon turn into rumbles of furious fights of dominance. Until then, he stood his ground. Head rising. Tail high.

”And, what will you bring to mother? Weakness?”
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 Ichor stained eyes follow the little body of his brother. They are merely a month old, but already filled with purpose and bloodlust. The words of Voorhees make the nightmare's tail flicker behind him, his own mood not wavering. His smirk is permanent on his lips as he takes a quick step towards the decaying body and leaning down, taking a deep inhale before his eyes revert. "I like it too." Krueger admits, ignoring the irritation in Voorhees voice. Honestly, he could not care less. Though it makes his insides tickle with laughter that he has to stifle. How riled up he got when the mention of their mother came into play. 

 The defenses on his brother raise, his tail held high in the air with dominance. Krueger notes it and lets his own tiny paws flatten out and steady his stance against the ground, splayed paws keeping him upright. His tail does not tuck, but rather stays swaying behind him. He knows there is no competition. "Looks like you already got that covered." He remarked, looking dead at his brother in front of him, the sly little up curve of his lips unwavering. 

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His stance is unwavering. Flames locked on those blood red seas. Their bodies same in height. But, due to his stocky nature compared to that of his slightly more leaner brother, Voorhees did not reach nothing but the very base of his throat. Where head connected to neck. He flashed a single fang. Lip curling over the developing tooth in a disgusted expression. ”I believe we’d both agree. The weakest still remains slumbering next to… mother.” A gesture of his head to where the rest of their siblings remained.

Leatherface and Baby Firefly had yet to awaken. Their long resting sleep one of questioning due to many things. Were they dead? A thought swept through his mind. Erasing them from further taking mother’s attention. They were weak. Soft. Distasteful and not for their mother’s liking. No one had decided this. He had. Yet and still, they happened to still be family.

Voorhees stepped around his brother. Rib bone now back between the clutches of his teeth. The weight of it much lighter than he expected from the first moment he’d chosen the gift. ”My next gift may be your corpse at her paws. You’ve always been… my favorite.”

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 Krueger stood a little taller, straightening his chest out as best he could. Even though they were still small, their bodies almost mirrored each other — in color and in stature. They would surely develop as they reached their teens and young adults, but for now, they were somewhat at the same level. Voorhees gestured back towards the cave and murmured about their other siblings. For now, he seemed to be correct. They were weaker. But all in the end, Krueger was determined to end up on top of the dog pile they called family. "Hmm, maybe so." The edges of his lips quirked up in a growing smirk. Or maybe Voorhees would prove that he was not as strong as he thought. Nonetheless, it was easier to agree — just this once, since y'know, they were too small to really hurt each other or create rifts that could not be sewn so easy as it was to hurt each other. 

 A chuff left the nightmare's lips as his brother spoke to him. His eyes rolled at him, so dramatic. "If you think that'd be a gift to her, maybe you don't know mama that well." He hummed, poking at the weak spot that they all had since birth — their mother. It wasn't like their proclaimed father had come poking around yet, but they weren't old enough to really judge him for that. But it was easy to guess that they all wanted to be her favorite, wanting to feel like they meant something to her, shown promise that would make her pick a favorite out of the four. 

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A sound, deadly and thorough, slipped from his throat. He did not like the way Krueger spoke of their mother in such a way. He knew Morag more than they. She was the fresh air needed in the mist of the musty fog. A bright moon in a sea of darkness. Voorhees rolled his shoulders. Neck stretching. Holding his head higher.

Though, the nightmare was smaller, the psychopath held more weight. He peered over to his brother. Jaws snapping only slightly near the left of his cheek where the muzzle met. ”You will watch what you say, Krueger. Do not play around with your words in a such a way.” If it was to be done, Voorhees would fight him. Prove who held the title of older brother. It was around this time they would be doing such a thing anyhow.

Perhaps this would be the perfect timing.
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 Krueger watched the way his brother morphed when the mention of their mother slipped from his damned lips. The nightmare could see the change in Voorhees' face and body. The way his muscles tightened and his face contorted as if he'd just been slapped on his muzzle. An excited jolt pulsated his heart faster. The smirk that Krueger had formed on his lips did not fade. If anything, it grew wider as a little laugh fell from his lips. It must have been as deranged as he thought, watching birds flutter off from the trees above and further away from the two children. 

 It faded when Voorhees snapped at his jaw. A look of bewilderment flashed across the pup's face before it quickly turned dark, as if he'd been actually bit. An emotion boiled in the pit of the nightmare's stomach when Voorhees spoke after, trying to tell him what to do. He couldn't pinpoint this feeling. He'd never had it before. After all, he wasn't that old. But he had a feeling that it would become familiar. It fit right. Like something he was missing. As a response, his muzzle wrinkled and his canines shone through. His tail waved high behind his little rump in a sign of dominance. He tried to form the words for what he felt — what he was going to do to Voorhees, but only found a wild, animal-like growl falling from his maw. Untrained in the art of fighting, he took the first move and lunged towards his brother, trying to catch him off guard. 

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this spar will be determined by dice roll in the discordl! <3

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Voorhees saw it. The moment Krueger’s body lunged at him. His intentions quite clear. He didn’t dare move. Allowing the connection to lane as their bodies rolled with one another. His response was quick. Jaws wrapping around the closes leg in with a growl. Tugging at the appendage harshly. While biting down in hopes to taste that sweet copper flowing beneath the nightmare’s flesh.

A paw pressing against his brother’s chest. Ensuring to keep him far away from any part of him as he could. This was their first fight of many to come. A weird bonding between brothers. True growing Nightwalker males. The psychopath grinned at the thought. A deeper love for the nightmare. Such a sickening sweet emotion he felt. Much like the one he has for their mother. However, not as deep.
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 The smell of blood tainted the air once they collided with each other. This emotion, the questionable one, filled his body as they clashed. It was fueling him. They tumbled against each other, his brother's maw finding little purchase against his leg, but all enough to pierce skin. Though Krueger landed on top and bore his canines with his brown ears pinned down to the back of his head. A guttural growl left his maw, leaning his head down, close enough for his breath to be felt against his brother's face. "Voorhees.." He breathed, "Done, yet?" He asks, lazily. If the pup's thirst was not quenched, Krueger would react quickly and go in for a bite out of the boy's shoulder — teeth not gently grazing but wanting to draw blood as well. 

 And if he was finished, the brother who'd found himself on top would simply roll off so they could continue about their day. 

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Their size difference was beginning to become a bit of a hassle. With Voorhees on the more stocky side and Krueger on the leaner side. One would think that the heavier pup would prove to be the one on top. Instead, the nightmare had him right where he wanted. Leaving the psychopath to give out a guttural snarl in response. He was annoyed. Back paws pressing harshly into his brother’s stomach. Riding the twerp of him. ”Next time. I’ll surely pin you.” A sharp glare of annoyance casting over his face like a shadow. Dark in the threat hissed from his lips.

He said nothing more. Turning from his brother with a flick of his tail.
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 As the two rustled off each other, Krueger kept that taunting winner's smirk, like he held a medal whilst another kid cried. Voorhees' snarls and sounds of anger fueled the swelling ego in his chest. "Surely." The leaner of the two remarked, hopping happily upon a rock fit for a king, watching his brother's twist as he stalked off. 

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