Before I see things the right way up

Set before the bear attack/getting her scars. Also tag for @Ghidorah if you’d like to snatch this thread!

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Galloping wildly in a frenzied haste, a set of nebulous paws drums mercilessly against peaty loam. The earth crumbles beneath their indomitable will, spiraling upwards in dirtied clumps from once immobile segments. Blunt and crude their talons are, grappling for a vantage upon the diminutive hillocks that propel Welkin’s streamlined form onwards. She is sprinting- no, flying, her outstretched limbs scathing lightly across the disturbed terrain. The steady thrum, thrum, thrum of her fervent heart reverberates within the cage of her breast, beating wildly like a fledgling bird fluttering with newfound wings. In, and out, in, and out her breath heaves, unloosing great puffs of lessening breath with each stride that preserves her momentum.

Until finally, she’s had enough.

Chilled whiffs of air condense from her snout, a defeated pant whooshing from her contracting diaphragm. Beads of sweat spring upwards from simmering skin, clinging stubbornly to the edges of Welkin’s ruffles in protest to her movements. A filthy trophy of her spontaneous run, the noble grimaces outwardly at the grimy tendrils of her coat. Her tongue caresses uselessly at her self-inflicted mess, a scowl furrowing the edges of her brows at the unpleasant tang of salt.

A quick rinse was what she needed.

Craning upwards, her blackened nose blows wide with a hefty inhale; sifting through the multitude of smells that ruminate within the probing hairs. There it is- distant, but distinctly liquid nonetheless. Another sniff and she adjusts her course, traipsing across the proliferant needles strewn about the soil. The trees here are ancient and gargantuan, rising up as if to challenge the very mountains they have budded from. Welkin is humbled by the quietude and serenity of the massive forest; it envelops her, forcing her to obey at the silence they commanded. Even her blonde companion would surely have been rendered speechless by the magnitude of the wood.

Unfortunately - or fortunately; she hasn’t decided yet - Adelaide was not built for the exertion Welkin desired, and thus she had remained behind.

With the lakebed reigning closer, Welkin submerges beneath the subtle current, dipping her head beneath the lapping waves to indulge in its dull roar. Her paws flex at the distant grit that lies below, an anchor against the buffeting waves that combat against her approach. It is cold- chilling her bones to the marrow in a matter of seconds.

Her canvas washed, Welkin emerges onto shore, distilling the clingy droplets that adorn her sodden coat. Just as she stoops to flatten an unruly patch, an ungainly splash! sends her posture upright.

A beaver, as if it is taunting her, peruses through the water at a lackadaisical pace. Welkin’s stomach seizes hold of any logical firing within her noggin, sending her outwards to pursue the animal. It senses her hasty approach and dives deep within the lapiz waters, shimmying beneath a haphazard cage composed of grime and sticks.

A burdened sigh heaves from her chest. If only she had not just washed herself…

The image of Adelaide’s adoring gaze, shining with awe and pride at Welkin’s instinctual prowess, overtakes that thought.

Tip, tap, tip her nails click, clambering up upon the muddy dome to assess the structure for potential weakenings. A tug here, a pull there…

Nothing gives.

If only she was in stronger company...
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The massive man wanders from Northfall once more. These wanderins are surely not surprising at this point and he’s also sure his pack has connected two and two together every time he comes back. When his paws do step onto his pack land’s soil, he always returns with new scabs or fresh wounds. Even now, he’s littered with them. Older scabbing lacerations from the pale woman he’d fought some time ago and more recent ones bloom on their most recent tryst too. Not to mention his scars. The ones that have shaved away fur and paint a picture of glorious stories to behold — especially the lightning strike on his back and sides.

Ghidorah is a savage man, who lives a savage lifestyle, and with an even more savage lust for blood. His teeth always looking for something to sink into. He’s always been like this, even in his previous godly state. What with his three heads lined with cerated, crocodilian teeth, large, impressive wings, and the power of lightning at his beck and call. He had it all and now he’s reduced to living in this weak, fleshy body — one of a lowly forest creature. A true punishment meant to demean him. And it fucking worked.

Still, his mortal body is somewhat worthy of his godly soul. It’s strong, large, and battle hardened, but his mind is still that of his old self. He must learn to cope — he must learn to live all over again.

And that’s why he wanders. Believing with every fiber of his being that if he’s able to steal away enough souls that he’d be able to return to his past formidable self.

These thoughts constantly swirl in his head, hence why he would seem quite distracted as he moves languidly through a forest surrounded by mountains. Until there’s whoosh of wind and the thumping of feet. A figure seemingly going at the speed of Mach five blurs past him probably only about twenty or so feet to his right. Ghidorah finches, instantly ready to set his teeth on whatever it is, but they just zoom right past him. With brows furrowing and a scowl forming he scoffs as he watches them dodge trees and kick up dust.

They’re fucking fast.

But besides that, they smell like a wolf when he moves over to investigate the scent. This is what causes him to make the decision to follow them. That ever constant itch to sink his teeth into something. He moves at a languid gallop, not at all exerting himself as the other probably did. Until shortly he’s stumbling upon a lake.

His eyes move across its surface and glide along its bank and then he spits that wolf that had moved past him like a strike of lightning. Tall, thin, but very obviously athletic. Their earlier scent offers him a distinctly feminine smell.

Heterochromatic orbs rake over her form shamelessly as he watches her dip herself in the lake. Soaking all the grime from her pelt from her romp in the forest. She’s tall, but thin, he could snap her arm in his jaws without an ounce of effort. That alone attracts the thought of moving closer. Maybe move and attack while she’s distracted washing herself in the shallow waters.

Only something else distracts them both. A beaver splashes at her with its wide, flat tail and this woman doesn’t even hesitate, she’s going in after it. His instinct to chase almost wins too. He’s a pinch away from going in after it too. That is until he see where it’s going. Straight to its dam — to its fortress of sticks and mud. It’s then he sits in the shrubbery and continues watching as the agouti wolf tries to break it. To pull a stick or two out and hopefully watch the whole thing crumble down. He rumbles out a laugh at her effort, low and malicious. It seems like she’s hungry enough to go for a beavers den. Now that he thinks if it, he’s pretty hungry too, only the decision he has to make is if he wants to eat wolf or beaver. They’d both be a fun and rewarding catch.

With his mind made up, he decides to finally show himself. Sauntering out of mountains great flora, he languidly moves towards her. Massive head level with bulky shoulders and a slight curve to his lips. All four canines naturally stick out of his maw, they’re too long to be contained in whiskered lips, even as his eyes settle in her a dark, forked tongue rasps over his scarred muzzle at the thought of food — a possible alliance is afoot, but so is a possible bloodbath.

Surely, she would’ve seen him the second he appeared from the bushes. Once her eyes are on him he tilts his chin up in a type of greeting, then glances at the tooth marks she’s left on a few of the sticks.

“Hunting beaver I see.” He’s rumbling out in that deep, gravelly voice of his. “Need help?” He asks in a way that could be perceived as mocking, for his rough voice sounds too polite while asking.
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