gnawing at the wool over my eyes.

 

 Heat presses through the scarce canopies above. But unlike what causes the heat, the sun cannot be found through the fog that never seems to pass through Blackwood Reach. The heat is muggy, sticky, and annoying. Nonetheless, Krueger is glad to finally be able to get out of the den with little of a hassle. There are still moments that he trips over his paws and growls, a light sound that does not mimic from what he feels within him. No, as much as he is a child, there is something more that breaches behind his eyes, as if he is the one given the key to a world while others are left behind. The light is bent a little for him, seeing more than what meets the eye. 

 For example, when he sees a bird, he does not think of only food. He thinks of much more beyond that. What the bird's insides would look like when he used his claws to pop the seams of its chest open. Or when he sees a rabbit and knows that he can use the pelt to add to his mother's den, and how loudly he can make it scream before his ears go numb. He'd played that game before. It was blaring and caused alarm — not just to the screaming, but to his actions as well. Usually smaller rodents, birds they made little noise. It'd been the reason he'd been lurking in a bush, waiting and biding his time for something to cross his path. 

 A rabbit-like creature scurried down a tree with a bushier tail that he'd seen on one before. And... well, the ears weren't quite right. Krueger squinted and tried to make it out — it definitely wasn't a rabbit. Hm. Interesting. Well, it was time to find out what it was. The small bundle of dark oaks and creams jumped out from the cover of the leaves and pounced onto the squirrel. It was in a fit, scratching and chittering up a storm. It didn't stop Krueger as he wrestled for the upper hand, and suddenly, cracked its neck in between his jaws. "Aw, man." He muttered, letting out a sigh, like a child who'd just broken one of his favorite toys. The nightwalker gathered himself, standing up and pushing the thing aside. He could dissect it, but it was less fun when they were already dead. Nonetheless, he wouldn't miss a chance. The little kid strode up to the plate, letting one of his paws poke at the thing's chest. 

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As of late, it had become apparent what triggered the happiness of this young pup. Not the playful bounding most would be intrigued in at his age. He cared not for the enjoyments of what happened outside of their home.

No.

Voorhees found himself fascinated with death. Unknown to Krueger, who normally ventured out alone, he would stalk behind. Keeping distance in watch of the nightmare’s journey. The variety of screams, screeches, and such always causing his ears to perk. For a desire he would learn through time was sparked within him.

Even now, as his brother wrestled with a very wild and fluffy rodent, he kept his sights glued on the scene. A thought casting a shadow over all else in wonder. Curious of what Krueger do next.

Licking his lips. Saliva having pulled at the edges. He stepped from his place of hiding. Time surely making this pup stocky with as much as he ate. Both mother’s milk and whatever regurgitated meal’s that we’re provided. ”Too bad.”
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 In the dense heat of the Temperate, cicadas had already started their afternoon hum. Clinging to the bark of the trees, they'd make so much noise it could be overwhelming. If Krueger wasn't used to it, it'd probably drive him crazy, and yet, for him, it was a sort of comforting sound. The nightwalker child ran his paw down the dead thing's chest, a single claw dragging down. The pup put more force into it, making its chest split open. It popped easier than he expected. Warm blood oozed over his paw and the insides of the squirrel were shown to the curious child. A smile pulled over his lips, yearning eyes widening. He was about to lean down, to press even further into his dissection, before a voice came from the shadows behind him. 

 'Too bad.' Krueger's head shot to the side and eyed his brother out of the corner of his eye, — somewhat annoyed but mostly shocked that he'd been followed without him noticing. Irritation flickered in his hackles for a mere second before he swung around. "I'll find 'nother next time." He hummed out, eyeing the other's stocky form. They were growing, each and every day, they grew another inch. Though it was sure that Voorhees was going to outgrow him, seeming as whenever Krueger tried to get an ounce more of milk, he'd be pushed off or growled at by the other. "Why're you followin' me?" He asks, though not really interested in his brother right now.

 The tear-stained man turned back around to his project. He didn't care if his siblings knew what he was doing. They couldn't bring someone back in time to see the evidence before he hid it. And he was sure that no one cared enough to reprimand him for something like this. He could get away with murder... most likely.

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Voorhees only shrugged. Eyeing the carnage his brother began. The slow reveal of what lay beneath a coat of brown. Even so, he found himself circling until he could better see. ”You interest me…” It was all he spoke. Staring unblinking at the mess soon to come. For a moment, the visual itself became something else.

He saw himself larger. Healthier. Another wolf at his paws and bleeding from torn wounds littered over its body. Throat opened and exposed for his mother to see.

A growl escaping, he shifted to the head. Observing how the eyes no longer showed a sign of life. A sickening angle it rested in. Such fascination flashed across his features. Not once giving Krueger a glance as he placed a single paw on the skull. ”I want it…” Such hunger filled the psycho. His need to decapitate and take as his own, Voorhees wrapped his jaws around the throat. Biting down with a viscous shake of his skull. It wasn’t enough though. He couldn’t get either to separate from the other and to this he finally looked to the nightmare.
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 Flies started to notice that something fresh was dead in the Reach. Everywhere Krueger went, they followed, it seemed. Where some favored fireflies, Krueger had seemed more interest in flies, guiding him along the pathway to death. 'You interest me...' His brother's voice was distant in the back of his mind as he smeared the blood over his paw, stamping the mud next to his kill. It was small, smaller than his mother's and his brothers. He didn't like it. Feeling tinier. He was larger than life. The nightmare could kill small animals without feeling. Wasn't that a good thing? Bad dreams never came to him, only playgrounds of bones and blood. What had caused him to be this way, well, there was no good reason. Maybe it was as simple as evil bred evil, and he had been birthed by the devil and his mistress. 

 'I want it.' Without warning, his brother's paw was on the skull of the creature he'd just split in. A low growl left the boy's lips, sounding like a lion cub rather than a wolf. Something lived within him, something predatory, in a way that was much darker than instincts he was born with. A frustrated cackle left the little man's lips; echoing as his brother tried to separate the skull from the body. A fire burned behind ichor colored eyes, sparking a feeling he'd never quite understood. But when it came, he felt free. The chortling only grew, making birds in the tree fly away, adverting their eyes from the sick bloodline. As soon as his brother looked at him, he lurched forward and grabbed ahold of the tail, childish laughter leaving his lips as if they were playing in a field of butterflies, chasing one after the other. Instead, here they were, stretching the squirrel's limbs as far as they would go, seeing how much force it would take for the thing's body to split in half. 

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The fun had begun. Their noise of feral happiness with each tug. Stretching the squirrel further apart.

Voorhees wanted.. no… needed the skull. He wished to wear it. Just as he had done with plenty of the past animals he’d happily taken. Their lives forever lost to his fangs.

Now, here he was, inquiring the other end in a harsh pull. The game no longer a play for him. But a full blown determination to get what was now his.

Another sound, deadly and viscous, broke through his mouth. Saliva pooling just at the ends. Drenching the fur and darkening the brown coat of the rodent.

He heard it. Ears pulling. It was finally happening. But… not where he wished it to be. The middle has begun to tear. The insides slipping away and falling in heaps between them. How small they were. Barely enough to feed their mother. Such a disappointment.

Either way, the psychopath continued to pull. It’ll be all over soon and he’ll have what he’d been waiting for.
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 The sheet of fog kept them in their own little world. Anyone who heard them would have to actually search, follow the sound of feral growls. Upon seeing Voorhees' lips, dripping with salvia and drenching his side of the body; a laugh that would become infamous throughout the Reach, left his maw, muffled against the body of the squirrel. If allowed against the fog, it would have sounded twisted, managed as it left the very much alive and well wolf. But for now, it is kept in low tones. 

 The act of pulling had started to rip the little creature's body in half. Neither of them were giving in to one another. Ichor leaked from the tears in the dead thing's body. With one good tug between the both of them; a sickening snap reverberated through Kreuger's ears, and the motion vibrating through his teeth as he stood aside with one half of the squirrel in his maw. Blood spattered each and every way, tainting the clean pelt that Morag had washed just a day or two ago. For a second, it was a little bit of a shock. But the nightmare recovers with laughter. 

 "Aw! It broke even more." Kreuger proclaimed, but there was no sign of disappointment on his face anymore. "You know what that means, Voorhees? We gotta find something worth our strength." 

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Voorhees heard it. Felt the weight of their toy giving under the pressure of each tug. Flesh ripping. Exposing everything inside. Which hit the ground with a loud plop! Such sweet music to him. Though, it did not lead to what he truly wanted. He only ended up with half of the carcass. Not the skull itself. ”I wanted that skull…”

His face morphed into disgust. A greedy expression of need shadowing over such feeling. ”There are plenty more to find. Let’s go.” The psychopath didn’t wait long. Turning away from his brother to find their next pending victim. He’d get a skull. Sooner than later.
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 Voorhees seemed only disappointed at the prospect of not only getting the skull. Krueger dropped the rest of the body and looked down at it for a moment, tilting his head. If he left it here, wouldn't the skin roll off in curls and decay into the ground? It'd be free one day. But it doesn't seem to occur to the other, because his brother is already off, declaring their next adventure. His lips pulled into a grin once more. The thrill of the hunt always refreshing those feelings he felt when he closed his mouth around their jugulars. The nightmares trailed after him, giving another glance at what could only be described as "pulled squirrel." "I will get you a better one this time." He assured the other, picking up his paws in a trot, joining near Voorhees' shoulder.

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