without an honest heart as a compass

@Erebus  Random prompt: On the ground there are a pair of antlers, but fresh blood is splattered around them.

FOR MY OWN REFERENCE: set post-tundra explore with the group.

HOARDER.

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The girl had taken her newfound adolescence and had begun to explore it. And the first step in that was wandering away, further and further from the safety net of the Respite. Into the untamed wilderness of the mountains. She'd taken care to avoid going the way they'd gone toward the tundra, for it was far too cold and brittle there for her to really enjoy it. Not much lived in the tundra, and as enticing as that would seem in theory ... Sreda liked to watch the way living things died, not simply find their corpses buried in the snow.

But enough on that subject.

She moved forward, along the edges of the strange set of mountains she'd found. She'd be sure to steer clear of the Vanderfell terrain, for (and she could see her mother mouthing it) 'we must respect our neighbors,' or whatever. She would have rolled her eyes, but the effort was too great.

So she'd skirted around and diverted back toward the pass. The mountains reached upward in jagged peaks, and as she meandered forward ... she was stopped by the scent of stale blood.

And ahead of her was a perfectly preserved rack of immature antlers.

Her eyes would have glittered —
 — but she remained perfectly impassive.

Apathetic.

And she walked up to the bloodied antlers, lowering her nose to sniff them gently ... and wondering, who left such a prize behind ... and why

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His eyes narrowed, aglow from within the trees. Watching as a young stranger inspected the remnants of a recently picked apart carcass.
It was admittedly he who left them behind. While wolves were perfectly capable of and are even recommended to eat the antlers and hooves of ungulates, Erebus disliked the activity. He much preferred the thicker leg bones, with which much effort the man could crack open and find juicy marrow inside.

The dark figure stood, looming up from the forest and the leg he still munched in. Meat still clinging to it's structure.
He stifled a wicked smile.

"What is that there, that you've found?" The man questioned, stepping carefully out of the treeline that shrouded his coat as black as pitch.
He knew the answer to his own question but, was curious to poke at this little peasant girl's brain. How quickly would she realize that it was he that left it? Would she notice the blood on his chest, maw, and front feet at all? The dark crimson sometimes mixed with the black perfectly well.

His stride was calculated as he held his head high. Burning embers for eyes looking down at her as he grew closer with each step.

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hoarder

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The scent of stale blood sat pleasantly in her nostrils, metallic and tangy as she continued to stare at the bloodied remains. It was awfully curious, wasn't it? Someone — something — went through quite a bit of turmoil eradicating this creature from the earth, and yet .. they didn't even want their prize. It seemed wasteful.

From the outskirts came a shadow, coat as dark as ink and eyes ablaze with the fire of a thousand hells. There was a danger written beneath the gentle undertones of mystery as he slid himself into her view, walking as though this particular patch of land belonged to him. Or as if something belonged to him. She eyed him, unafraid and unemotional.

"Remains." 'May they rest in peace in the gracious hands of death.' Her answer was simple as she tipped her head to follow him as he paced around her. His stance was regal but hungry. And whether that was for knowledge or flesh (or both) was yet to be revealed to the young girl. "But it appears someone wanted them to be found," she continued, gaze drifting back toward the rack of antlers. It had quite a few points. It must have been a glorious kill.

Slowly, her gaze returned to the Shadow, eyes burning with the same intensity as his orange embers.

"Someone who likes a spectacle." She noted the smell of the same stale blood on his skin ... but she did not say the accusatory words. She simply looked at him, gaze an amethyst labyrinth as she tilted her head toward him. 

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Oh gee, he had been caught red handed. The man stifled a chuckle and smiled at the child. She couldn't have been no more than 4, maybe 5 months? Yet she held no fear of the unknown, of him, or his creepy and slinky ways. He loomed over her, dark and tall in comparison. There was no sign of unease, or that she would turn and sprint back to her parents. The child seemed enthralled by the antlers and the curiosity that grew in the man because of it was just enough for him to overlook her white spots.
"You may keep them if you like. I don't need them." He lifted a paw and poked it her way. Erebus wasn't usually one to interact with children longer than he needed to but, this one was different. He could see her mind working behind deep purple eyes, and he longed to pick and interact with such a different mind.

"The deer doesn't need them anymore, either." A dark joke, to which he did chuckle. It rumbled in the basin of his chest. His eyebrow peeked to spy if the child would find it unsettling, humorous, or neither.

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hoarder

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She watched him carefully, her deep gaze unrevealing. For what was there to reveal? She'd laid her cards on the table — she loved macabre. She loved bones (and death). That much was obvious. And it was clear, too, that this man, this Shadow, did as well.

And he loved a spectacle.

"You may keep them if you like. I don't need them." Oh, but The Shadow was also generous. The skeletal girl blinked, looking up into eyes of fire and brimstone with a soft and empty questioning. Why didn't he want them? They were a wonderful, rare prize. A sight to behold.

"Моя тень — My Shadow," she murmured, tufted ears flicking. And then her gaze turned back toward the bloodied cranium at her paws. The raw stench of blood held heavy in the back of her nose, gathering saliva in her throat before she swallowed softly. "I shall treasure it," she said earnestly, eyes intent as she turned back toward the shadow, staring with a heated intensity down the bridge of her nose. Into him. Through him.

"The deer doesn't need them anymore, either."

That much was true. There was macabre humor in his voice that Sreda found alluring. It reminded her of Mother, the one who collected dead things. And Sreda had always envied that collection. And perhaps, with the help of The Shadow, the Тень, she could attain her goal. She would prove her power to all of them (of course, using the help and power of another). "Can you tell me how it died?" She wanted to know, of course, to keep the lore earnest. So that each and every item in her newly forming collection held memory, story, and power.

For the dead held more power, sometimes, than the living.

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His heart almost warmed to her gratitude, unaware to how much it would mean to her to receive it. Sure, he liked the killing of things but, their bodies and the parts that came with never interested him too terribly. As a courtesy, he bowed his head subtly to say 'you're welcome' or 'my pleasure'. Something of that sort of effect.

He watched her gleam over the antlers in awe before turning back to him, a question in her teeth. Erebus' eyes almost widened and he took an extra breath of air. How pleasant to be asked! He held back a nonexistent tear of joy. "Well!" The man sat upon the earth, a pleased look on his face as he begun to spin a tale. Hoping to do his own mother justice for all the tales she told him and his siblings when they were young.
"Very early this morning, when the dusk clung to the earth in an eerie, dewy fog; He came out onto the field to eat and pluck away at clovers and field grass." His voice was low, like a whisper, to set the mood.
"There were no other deer around, just him. Like a proud beast with his prize atop his head, like the royalty of the forest." Eyes glanced over at the set of antlers before turning back to the girl.
"Suddenly, when he reached well into the openness of the field, with no tree or bush to hide behind- there came a rustling." The man's voice felt to rise in tension and suspense.
"When a black wolf came from within the grass, jaws open and ready for his flesh!" Erebus sprung up, a paw in the air and a false snarl on his face. He hoped she would understood who the black wolf was.

"The deer prince ran into the forest, away from the beast. As fast as his hooves could carry him! Over bush and log, root and rock alike. All the while, the beast nipped at his legs, filling the air with the smell of blood!" The intensity rose, as did he, before he dropped low again and began to whisper once more.
"Then it was silent, for a moment. Just the deer prince alone in the middle of the woods. He looked around for signs of the beast, and called out in fear- but only the woods replied. Crickets and owls.. then.." Erebus leaned in a little, close enough where the girl could see the depths of his orange eyes..

"BAM!" He barked, hoping to give the child a bit of a start. "The beast sprung from the bushes and grabbed his neck tight in between his jaws! The deer prince fought hard against him, but his blood came gushing out and painted the forest red. Until eventually, the deer prince collapsed and couldn't fight any more." He took a deep breath. "Those jaws stayed fast around his neck until the last flicker of life left the deer prince's body."
The dark man panned his eyes back over to the rack of antlers.
"And the beast thanked him for a fine hunt."

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@Erebus Sorry, can’t tag on discord! On an airplane, haha.

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The youth sat, tail tucked loosely around her paws as she awaited the spectacle to begin (see, she was right after all — The Shadow did like a show). It was as if The Shadow were preparing his costume for a play, ruffling his coat and muttering warm-ups under his breath as he prepared to absolutely amaze his audience.

Sreda would be the judge of that.

The Shadow began to tell the riveting tale of The Deer Prince. It was a noble and exciting tale full of action, drama, and of course a healthy dose of … BAM! Death!
 Gushing blood!
   Spirits leaving bodies!

Sreda’s tail gave a gentle wag, her ears pressing forward, especially toward the end of the story when The Shadow got to the (literal) juicy part. Amethyst eyes met those swirling orange depths, mystery meeting mystery, excitement meeting excitement as the two reveled together in their collective interests. What an absolutely dreadful delight to have found The Shadow … perhaps she should venture outside of home more often. She got a prize and a show. 

“Bravo; woe to the prince!” She started as The Shadow finished the tale, her voice unwavering as she stood up in the wolven way of given a standing ovation. “But he met a gentle fate in death,” she finished with a light nod, her eyes tracing over the stygian figure before her. “I shall remember his tale. And perhaps  …” she drifted off, eyeing the beast carefully now. “The Shadow would have more tales for this audience in the future.”

Sreda was setting up a bit of a … wolf book club, of sorts.
  Yes. It was educational.
   And age appropriate.

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The man flashed an occasional pose and bowed a few times at the child's glee. Pleased that she found his story plenty fun.
Erebus nodded in agreement with her statements. Death was gentle, and much-needed in the lives of every beast. It was necessary and inevitable, thus why the man rarely ever felt wrong or bad for being death's instrument.

"You'd like to hear more?" Again, intrigued by this one's fascination in death. He nodded, a smile of true glee on his wicked maw. "Yes of course! And perhaps more gifts will come with those stories.." Erebus hinted. There were plenty of bits he often discarded that he thought, in relation to the rack of antlers, would be just as interesting to the little girl.

Finally he stood and gave a low and gradual bow. Dipping so far that the top of his head could be seen by the youngster. As he leaned back up, he smirked with his orange eyes aglow. "It was a pleasure meeting you, little lady."

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