the mountain and the hound

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He wasn't stupid.

The wolf had been tracking him for some time now. Grimwald had chosen to lay low since the felling of King Gro'Mash, not wishing to stir up unnecessary trouble given their scattered ranks - only he and @Thornson now remained of their former company, and he didn't want to see them whittled all the way down to one. Life was treacherous enough as a lone boar without riling up any of the surrounding packs. He had just barely escaped with his own life, having cut a deal with @Vendrussel to spare him and his little scientist friend in return for the life of the Boar King and an easy ambush to release their canine prisoners.

It had felt wrong - he never would have thought himself the type to betray his own kin, but Gro'Mash had strayed from the path they had so carefully followed, and it had cost him his life.

Grimwald would not die for another's mistakes.

The wolf was getting closer, now, and the boar curled his lip in distaste. Well, it had been long enough. He hadn't tasted wolf-flesh in many moons, now, and if the fool was so hell-bent on pursuing his scarred hide, perhaps today he would break his fast.

The boar spied a small stream. He waded through with great care, walking very deliberately upstream, hoping to throw the wolf off his scent just enough to give him the advantage of a surprise attack. After a short distance, satisfied, Grimwald re-emerged and hid himself carefully behind a cluster of thorny bushes, staring out toward the water with glittering, ravenous eyes.

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Ignorant, detestable creatures.

This one in particular seemed even less intelligent than the rest of his kind, blindly following the trail like some fool led by a carrot on a stick. Grimwald narrowed his eyes inadvertently, the mere proximity of the wolf forcing his expression into one of further disgust. Although he had readily led his family to ruin, he would not soon forget how mercilessly the dribbling beasts had slaughtered them - utterly undignified with the way they drove their open, spittle-sprayed mouths into flesh, rending and tearing and scrabbling with cracked, blunted claws, ugly sounds bubbling up from their ragged throats.

Filth.

The dark wolf held a strong pack-scent, but they were far enough away from the heart of its territory that any who might come for aid would be too late.

Besides - this one pissed him off.

He waited silently until Osiris passed just a touch too close, tensed, and leapt forward with head lowered, sharpened tusks aiming for his soft underbelly.

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Delicious.

The panic that flashed briefly behind the wolf's eyes was something to be reveled in. Grimwald drank fear like a fine wine, and although he had willingly led his own kind to the slaughter, that did not mean he had ever once viewed these dogs as friends. No - they all deserved to die, and he would continue the harvest alone if he had to.

His foe crumpled before him, flying back several feet as his furred mass hit the solid earth. The bastard was quick on his paws and managed to scramble out of the way just in time, narrowly missing the sharp sting of tusks that would otherwise have bored deep within his side had he failed. Grimwald snorted, undeterred.

As the boar turned, the wolf turned even quicker, and before he could react he felt his opponent's fangs sinking into his thick hide with a vengeance.

Grimwald halted immediately, standing stock-still, hooves rooted firmly to the ground. He rotated his neck slowly to look back at the wolf who still clung to his flank, gazes meeting in an agonizing moment that stretched for far too long.

A sickening smile worked its way up the corners of his scarred mouth, but it remained flat, almost mask-like in its sterility; the grin did not reach his hollow eyes.

The boar charged forward like a thunderbolt toward a towering oak tree, planted both forelimbs, and swung himself as hard as he could against its trunk in hopes to dislodge the parasite from his hide.

He laughed, freely and full of devilish delight.

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The wolf had disengaged immediately, and his flank hit the first tree with a painful crash - but he ignored it. He had endured far worse agonies in his time, and this was but a trifle; a mere bruise.

Filled with the rush of the hunt, Grimwald rallied quickly, giving chase to the no-doubt panicked wolf that fled from him. If the boar ever caught him, death would not come hastily; he wanted to enjoy this.

“The pitiful pack-wolf, all alone,” he called in a baritone sing-song behind his prey, “Thou art a coward, and should have chosen thy opponent more wisely!”

The great beast thundered ahead, anticipating the spry bastard's plan as they barreled toward another tree. Did he think him a fucking fool? He was no Gro'Mash - he was not blind in his fury.

He could see a great deal.

As the wolf made quick work of swerving around the tree, his legs nimble and quick, Grimwald chose another avenue. He pivoted shortly before reaching it, his hooves gouging deep tracks in the dirt as he skid to a halt, then shot off immediately to the side and disappeared into the underbrush.

---

He could be quiet when he wanted to.

Osiris had lost the trail. Grimwald smiled to himself, gauging with his nose and keen ears where the straggler may appear next - and had judged correctly. The man was standing alone, eyes darting furtively around him, thinking that perhaps he had lost his pursuer.

He waited for just the right moment.

As Osiris turned his head, facing forward, the General lunged out from the underbrush, curved his great neck, and sliced upwards with his tusks.

Blood fell about them like a gentle rain.

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A wolf was only beautiful when stained crimson.

Grimwald stepped back at the same moment his opponent stumbled away, but not out of fear - it was to admire his work.

Great, ugly gashes split the seams of his prey's flesh, the blacks and creams of his fur trailing long lines of shining red. The skin had been torn open across his face, a jagged scar that would not heal well - no matter how much time might pass. He smiled, licking the blood that dribbled down from his tusks.

Iron.

Before he might consider his next move, the cornered wolf flung his head back and called for aid from the rest of his pack. The great boar sighed, clearly annoyed. He supposed he'd been lucky to have enjoyed the chase for so long without interruption, and he had certainly gotten in a solid blow, but all good things must come to an end.

“Oh, save thy breath,” he said dismissively, tossing his head. “I shall be gone before they arrive.”

Grimwald turned to depart through the brush once more, heading toward the river stream that would likely mask his scent and allow him escape unimpeded - but he stopped to look back one last time, a sly smile curving up his bloodstained snout.

“Weak little creatures,” he mused. Without the strength of a pack, much like the ants that crawled through the dirt, wolves were such delicate beasts. “Thou shalt remember this for the rest of thy days - and that is pleasure enough for me.”

With a final, triumphant sneer, he left.

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Hydra ran swiftly, the call being heard. She would presume others had heard it as well, though she was nearest to it. Not so near to intervene in time, nor so near to hear the words that were spoken. Hydra arrived upon the scene in time to see her son recognize her presence. Only then did he seem to let himself relax, to close his eyes.

Her howl was clear as it rang loudly for @Aerys who had once said she was a medic. Hydra had not forgotten this. For her own part, Hydra would utilize what little skills she had. She had once been taught how to staunch a wound, to stop the bleeding. Hydra collected what materials she could, her skill rudimentary but enough to begin the work. There was no wolfscent, but the scent of boar; a snarl gathered in her throat, but she swallowed it.

Whether or not the beast was defending itself from the hunt mattered not to the matriarch. And Grimwald was right. She would not forget this. She drank his scent, and would not forget this either.

She thanked the beast for its witlessness. She counted on its arrogance. For the rest of its life, she hoped it would look over its shoulder. Or perhaps it would not, in the spirit of its arrogance. All that mattered not when at the end of it all, it would be she and Empyrean it saw when the light faded from his eye. Empyrean would make a feast of this thing, sooner or later.

And it would join the earth again only once they shit the thing out.

Her anger was vitriolic. But she drew in a breath to soothe herself, to be present and here with her son. Until there was another to look after him, she could not leave him. And so for now, she tended to him, ensuring that the bleeding stopped.

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