heaven come down

Finding the goats was a simple task. They had a strong smell and the wind was in Ries and @Cain's favor. A small group resided not far from Vanderfell's borders, grazing on some of the late winter grass on the edge of the tree line.

An older female, right on the edge, walked with a hitch in her step. Ries zeroed in on her immediately. Not necessarily easy pickings, but easier. He gestured toward her with angled ears and glanced at his hunting companion before stalking through the undergrowth, circling around the herd to get the right angle.

Golden eyes sought out silver from across the small meadow, waiting to be given the go ahead.

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Goats spanned across a short distance, Cain crept closely along the hidden line of trees, truly now one that could be mistaken for a black bear loping about in the mid day.

Tipping his snout in acknowledgement of Ries' finding of the weakened female, he continued to lumber until he was hidden in a good spot to overtake his target.

Peeking cautiously out from behind his tree, the bear shadow waved his tail, eyes lingering on his hunting partner for the breifest moment before switching back to their soon to be meal.

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Cain peeked from behind the tree and Ries nodded his head. This should, in theory, be a breeze, so long as one of them didn't get skewered or stomped on - though the stomping thing was mostly a Ries issue.

He took a deep breath, focused on the goat, and his muscles tensed before he sprang forward.

The goats were caught off guard, and Ries was able to cut between the herd and his target, separating her effectively. He dove for her hind legs, nipping and snapping as he tried to guide her toward Cain. She was old, and not as spry as she likely used to be, but that didn't stop her from putting up a fight.

Hooves were sharp, and Ries felt one connect to his forehead, but it did little to deter him - a flesh wound more than anything. He continued guiding the goat, pushing her toward the trees.

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Dipping back down behind the tree, he waited in eerie silence.

He heard the moment when Ries moved. The shuffle against earth, then soon after the snapping of teeth.

The hunt was on.

When they were close enough, he knew it was time to reveal himself. Kicking his ass into high gear, he flew out from behind the tree and charged toward the battling pair. Just as he'd instructed, Ries went for the legs. But he paid the price for it rather quickly, as a hoof flew toward his head.

With a newfound surge of fury, he barreled into the goat's side, using his mass to his advantage and acting like a damn battering ram. Teeth seeking out the same leg that had smacked into Ries, he clamped down and tugged. Hard. Hooves now flew in his direction, some making contact, while others missed by a hair. To those that succeeded, only a bellowed grunt would be there to admit his pain. But he refused to let go, thrashing his head and flailing claws, tearing flesh and fur down to the feel of bone. This little shithead was already going to die. But for hurting Ries, it would be all that more painful.

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Cain dove forward, but unexpectedly did not go for the throat. Instead, he lunged for one of the hind legs, ripping and tearing into the ram's flesh in a way that seemed almost violent. The eye that Ries hadn't had to squeeze shut was open wide as he watched, momentarily stunned by the action, and then forced himself to move as well.

It wouldn't do for Cain to get pummeled to death. Ries shot beneath the goat and decided it would be his job to go for the throat instead, teeth sinking deep into the soft flesh there and holding tight even as the goat bleated and thrashed in his hold.

He was not the strongest of wolves - certainly not the best suited for this particular task - and was dislodged relatively easily, but not before tearing into something important there. White wool was stained crimson running down her throat and front leg, and Ries tensed, readying himself to hop right back in if necessary.

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Cain's eyes shone with heated approval as Ries redirected his attack, going right for the goat's throat. Blood pooled and he watched with meager interest, more intent to see when the life depleted from the miserable creature's eyes.

What felt like ages passed before it finally fell still, succumbing to its fated death. Releasing the mangled limb with a heaving breath, he shook out his tussled coat, grunting at the sharp stabbing pain that flared to life in his ribcage.

But no, he couldn't think about himself. He could handle the pain fine enough.

Eyes snapping up, he rounded the corpse, not minding the way his feet trudged through the crimson pool as he made straight for Ries. Carefully, he searched his form for any outstanding injuries that cared to make an appearance. While the motions weren't frantic, his expression held a note of concern. But only when he saw nothing did he stop, tapping his nose carefully against Ries' head. “How does your head feel?”

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The goat fell, as expected. Ries felt a little gross, fur tacky with blood around his mouth, chest, and the side of his face where he'd been clipped. There was a dull aching in his head where the hoof had connected, but it truly was just a flesh injury - his vision wasn't doubling and his head wasn't spinning like it would if he'd been concussed.

He did have to hold his right eye shut against the dribbling of blood over it, but that was about the extent of it.

Cain strode over to him with purpose and Ries had the very sudden, very irrational worry that he might be the one on the menu instead. But then the other man leaned forward and tapped at his head, and Ries paused, a little tingle of warmth remaining where the contact had been.

"It's... all good!" he assured, stumbling over his words the slightest bit, plastering on a smile. "I've been told I have a hard head, so. Comes in handy at times like these!" He laughed, a little nervous, before his expression sobered a bit. "What about you? Did she kick you too hard?"

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Fumbling words weren't exactly the best at convincing him. Cain lifted a questioning brow. But he wouldn't beg for honesty. That was up to Ries to decide. For the most part, he looked well enough.

“We should get this—” He kicked a foot at the goat, then looked back. “—and you back to your pack.”

Ignoring the stabbing feeling and twisting aches, he gripped the goat by one of its horns and leaned down, hauling it mostly ungracefully onto his back. “Don't worry about me,” came his clipped response to Ries' worry.

Turning his head, he gestured toward the mountain where they'd first started. “Lead the way, tour guide Ries,” He mused with a haughty smirk, enjoying his play on using the funny little nickname.

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Ries truly was okay, in spite of Cain's questioning look. An ache in his head was no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

And then Cain picked up the goat like it weighed nothing, which did little to calm the heat in his cheeks. Some part of him was very interested in the fact that the other man was so strong, but he shoved that interest back down into the box it tried to crawl out of.

The guy was carrying a whole goat on his back. Anyone would be impressed.

"Yeah. Back to the pack," he said absently, trying hard not to stare too hard. Embarrassing.

His own worries were brushed off, and though they still remained, Ries did not want to push him. If Cain needed help, they could give it to him when they got back to Vanderfell. It wasn't too far off, anyway.

A bright grin spread across his bloodied face at the nickname and he spun, tail waving.

"Follow me!"

---

I am so sorry for the wait!!

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“You don't sound so excited,” He mused, noting the hint of disinterest in his voice. Or was that even it?

Shaking the thought free of his head, he set off at a fair pace after his now excited hunting companion.

---

No worries! And sorry for the clipped reply, I'm still at work.

If you want to fade this one off and get another back in the pack's territory, we can!

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