The Early Bird Gets the Worm

 

Peeling open heavy eyelids, the wolf glared at the sky. The sun must have crested the horizon recently, as the familiar pinks and oranges stained the sky. Normally she didn't wake with the sun, but its light was too bright for her to ignore. She had spent time perfecting her den to let as little light in to ensure she received an adequate amount of sleep. So this awakening was all the more rude. Looking fully at her surroundings, a sense of dread washed over her. This was not her territory. Had she become such a heavy sleeper that she didn't feel herself moved? Rushing to her paws, and tangling her gangly legs in the process, she whipped her narrow head around. A lush forest filled her vision, a startling contrast to the meadow she had lived in since leaving her birth pack. A gentle breeze rolled through the leaves filling her nose with more evidence that she was very far from home.

Not being one to delay the inevitable, Vulture took stock of herself and her surroundings. None of her supplies was taken with her. She was left with nothing. None of her carefully curated poultices or brews had made their way with her. Shoulders sagging slightly in defeat, hazel eyes scanned across the tree line. She was in a small clearing, barely large enough to fit two wolves nose to tail. Behind her, a cliff face rose from the morning dew covered grass. To her left a patch of white flowers she recognized as daisies grew in tight clusters. At least she was surrounded by something familiar. Their scent wrapped around her like a shield, invigorating her to learn more. A bitter smile pulled at her lips as she recalled her complaints from the night before. She had been complaining to Ilya, the other healer in her pack, that life had become too easy. She had learned all there was to learn that had been available to her. Life had been a chore and not an endless puzzle like it once had been. Maybe it was Ilya who had moved her in her slumber as a prank. Vulture couldn't wait to get back and strangle the young male for his antics. Squaring her shoulders, Vulture stepped towards the unfamiliar forest in the hopes of finding something that would aid her in finding her way home. Then again, did she really want to go home? She had said herself just last night that she had become complacent. Perhaps this grand adventure was a blessing rather than a curse. Perhaps this was destiny.

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His paws splayed narrowly over the carved stones that led down into the mid of the run, where the roaring river rushed through the curling valley. Its flush current drowned out all of the wolf's senses as he pushed onwards through the sparsely spread trees, careful to not brush his scent along their bases, not wishing to leave any lingering mark that he'd passed through.

His family. They were here. His mother Valette, father Greyback, and his... sister, Ira. Vanderfell's High Queen. And so that made his friend, Renn, his nephew. It was all a blur, nauseating, enough for Clay to hurl into the river but he didn't. He simply trudged through the cool water, sighing as it sloshed around his ankles, washing away the woes that hung like storm clouds over his conscious. Beneath his scathed paw pads, slippery rocks covered in algae and when Clay peered down into the rushing current, he watched as small bottom feeders swam along the stones.

His moment of reflection was interrupted by the sudden crunch of foliage underfoot, bringing the man to toss a glance over his shoulder. A she-wolf revealed from beneath the trees canopies, though she was nothing to be fearful of in the way she didn't look to pose any threat. No bristling fur or snarling teeth. Clay cast his eyes up to the tall summits that climbed above the run and tsked, noting that her fur didn't smell of his sister's members.

“Tuck t-tail and leave while you can. The nearby Pack wolves aren't p-pleasant to be around.” He grumbled, sloshing a single paw around in the river. Clay still hadn't decided if he'd stay. He didn't think that he wanted to. Everything was so different, he didn't recognize himself let alone his family.

He changed. They changed.

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A shift in the wind brought a charged scent towards the dame's thin snout. It reminded her of the time she had watched a tree crack in two before her eyes. The clap of thunder and cracking of wood had left her partially deaf for several days after. The light had been unlike anything she had ever seen. The heat warmed her pelt even from her position several lengths away. It was truly an act of the gods. The scent had lingered on her pelt for days after, much to her displeasure. That same scent was what caught her immediate attention as she locked eyes with a fairly large male. He reminded her of a vengeful god in that moment.

As he grew slowly closer, she let loose a breath she had not known she was holding. From here she noted a slight scent of blood, like several wounds healed somewhat recently, clinging to the male's pelt. He was just a normal wolf as she was. The thought comforted her enough to take a hesitant step forward. She couldn't help but let a small chuckle leave her at her ridiculous lapse in judgement. Of course he was just a normal wolf. Had this whole mess truly affected her so much as to ruin her judgement? Gods she needed to find a way home soon, and hopefully this male would be of use to her. 

His words were not harsh. If anything, they only served to confuse her more. She had somehow been put in another pack's territory without ever waking. How very strange. To add to her growing list of confusions was the fact that he appeared to be running away from them. That could work in her favor if she played her cards right. If he knew this territory maybe he would help her reach somewhere familiar. Deciding this was her best course of action, she pulled back her shoulders. She was preparing herself for one of her least favorite activities. Making small talk. 

"I'm actually not quite sure where I am at the moment. I woke up here without a clue as to how I got here so if I could be pointed in the right direction it would be greatly appreciated," Her voice was slightly more gruff than usual due to lack of use. Vulture took another step forward, keeping her tail low should this male be the dominant sort. Gods knew she didn't need a fight on her paws. She decided not to question him about his distaste for the current pack, though her curiosity piqued at his choice of words. If luck played in her favor, they would have time to talk yet. 

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Just woke up? That caught his attention, and the wolf eventually fully turned around to face the woman, sighing and offering her a soft shake of his head. From the rapids he pulled himself, scabbed legs straining as he placed his paws onto the bank and freed himself of the flowing currents, immediately regretting said decision. The water had lulled the soreness in his limbs and would for at least a small amount of time until the aches returned and he'd continue to writhe uncomfortably until he fully healed. The wounds were reminders of his scrap with the Bogeyman and how he'd allowed Clay to escape. Allowed him to live. 

Next time, it would be Clay in that position. And he wouldn't hesitate to end his life. Watch his spirit glaze from his eyes and his lungs deflate of air. It was a thought enough to bring a small smile spreading onto the cruel Clay's face, incisors softly revealed from beneath where his lips curled. And then, bitterly, he was reminded of her. The wolf still stood there watching him expectantly and Clay cleared his throat, lifting his legs one by one to shake the excess water from his limbs. 

“Your old life is gone.” His words were blunt, almost bitter. His mood changed like the turning of tides and he swallowed, avoiding eye contact with the woman as he moved to walk past her, his narrow frame disappearing beneath the scattered trees. He fled in the direction of a sunning stone not too far away and winced as he hopped his way atop it, tentatively lowering himself onto his stomach. The sun's glow shattered sparsely over his form, illuminating the wounds that crossed across his pelt, interrupting the flow of his gray fur, of which had begun to scab and heal over with the help of @Renn's poultices. 

Noting how the wolf followed him, he spoke once more as his head rested atop his crossed legs. “Some j-just wake up here one day. Others fall from the s..ky. And you'll be lucky if the Gods brought s-some of your friends with you.” Clay murmured. 

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Vulture's hazel eyes followed the male's form as he pulled himself from the water. He was rather intimidating compared to the lithe, plains wolves she had grown up around. The thick gray fur that hung off his frame appeared more wavy now that it had gotten wet. It was a bit like her own, when she had bothered to groom herself that is. The scabbing around his legs caught her attention next, followed by a rush of displeasure. Just yesterday she knows she would have known the perfect tincture to help lessen the scars that would likely form. Now her brain seemed to be drawing a blank as to what to offer the male. It was as if a fog had covered her once extensive knowledge, and every time she tried to grasp something in the fog it only drifted further away. This was not a good omen. 

Just as she was about to ask the male to check her head for any bumps, a smile curled against the male's lips. It held no warmth or happiness though. The only comparison vulture could make was the snarl of a badger. Her hackles raised slightly of their own accord, self-preservation taking over her bodily controls. His eyes met hers once again, but they seemed distant. As if he wasn't fully in this moment with her, and for that she was thankful. It wouldn't do to be in a new place and make enemies so quickly. Not that she hadn't before.

Shaking to ease her nerves, she stopped mid shake at the male's declaration. Gone. The word filled her mind allowing for no further thoughts to grow. Gone. How was this male so certain? Gone. This was all a mistake. Gone. She would kill whatever being did this to her. Gone. For the first time in several years, Vulture was left dumbfounded for what to do. Her normal decisive nature was gone. "What do you mean gone that's not possible," her words had a small shake to them that she was not used to. 

His eyes refused to meet her own causing her fur to bristle once more. Vulture's head followed his movements as he walked past her, noting the stiffness in his legs. She couldn't help but wonder just how he had received such wounds. Perhaps in a similar way as to how he had received those thick scars lining his rear. Deciding she would be better off following the male and learning more rather than leaving him, she followed after him. Her paws falling in the same path that his had only moments before. They were headed towards a clearing, the early morning sun giving it an ethereal quality. It was odd, it was as if everything in this place was brighter and more inviting. An old pup's tale came to memory of a witch that would lure pups with promises of fresh kill and berries before eating them. Perhaps that was what this place was doing to her. Luring her in before devouring her whole. 

Others fall from the sky. Vulture's brows shot up at this statement. She was obviously speaking to a lunatic. Still, there was something endearing about the male before her. Something that made her want to trust him, even if his words made no logical sense. She couldn't help the scoff that had left her at his mention of friends. Vulture doubted any of the wolves from her old pack would have considered her as such. Her stunning personality and refusal to open up lest someone leave her made sure of that. "So what you're saying is I can't go home?" Vulture's question sounded pathetic even to her own ears, but she couldn't help the longing she felt for her life she had been taking advantage of.

She sat below the sunning rock, eyes flicking between the male and the ground. Despair flooded the she-wolf as she blinked back tears. She hadn't cried since her sister's death. The tears wouldn't stop threatening to fall though. As weak as it made her feel she leapt up onto the sunning rock and plopped down in defeat. If she were to be tossed into a new place with little chance of survival, the least she could do is allow herself the small luxury of soaking in the sun. A thought brushed against her mind, spurring her to ask the male another question. "Where are you headed? I could travel with you," Her words were spoken in a nonchalant tone, but laced with hope. "Two heads are better than one and all that," Vulture tacked on in a low mumble. Though she hated to admit it, the thought of being alone as she had been when she was a yearling was devastating enough to keep her near the male. Not to mention he seemed to have at least some knowledge on this area when she had none. 

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I can't go home? Clay's green eyes, caught in the mask of the sunlight and sparkling softly, plopped downwards to where the stranger existed beneath his rock. He couldn't see her face and only stared into the back of her brown, muddied head, but he could hear the tears. The faint sniffle from her nose told it all, and Clay could imagine the glisten of tears as they spilled from her eyes. He felt bad. Deep down, he did. But he was numb, numb to many emotions... unless they were rooted in anger. In rage, tempestuous as it was. Clay turned his head and inhaled stiffly, speaking on release. “Gone.” He murmured. “There's n-no going back, not that I know of.” And he wouldn't ever, ever want to go back.

His emerald eyes cut to his peripheral vision as the woman clambered atop his sunning stone and took it upon herself to join him, and his irritation was immediate. And it was visible upon his mug that immediately soured, and eyes that dropped to measure the distance between them, as if making sure it was adequate enough. Call it trust issues.

At the prospect of traveling together, Clay turned his head, staring out across the run. Its gorgeous green colors had begun to mute with the onslaught of autumn and the coming winter season, but it was still beautiful. Serene. Clay couldn't have chosen a better place to situate himself, he felt. He swallowed in thought, mulling over the woman's words. He didn't even know her name, yet she wanted to travel together? And what told her he planned on leaving? Going anywhere? Perhaps... his comment about his family's pack had been a little sideways, but he hadn't said he was leaving. No. But he couldn't deny how... tempting it sounded. “I... don't plan on going anywhere. At least-” He looked down at his paws, flipping them over to trace the cracks that etched through his paw pads. “Not yet. But...”

He heaved a sigh, glancing over at the brown wolf. “I c-can't stop you from sticking around.” He breathed. “I'm Clay.”

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Vulture appreciated the wolf before her for not mincing his words. Sugarcoating hard truths and skirting around reality had always been a waste of time in her eyes. Even when the truth hurt so profoundly. Closing her eyes for a moment, she allowed her grief and sadness to fully envelop her. Never again would she be able to see her sister's grave. It was the deepest cut she could receive. The gods banning her from even paying for her crimes through her regular maintenance of the site. It was the least she could do. Taking a sharp breath, she pushed everything down to be dealt with in the cover of night.

Opening her eyes once more, she put on a mask of measured emotions. The comfort it provided her was small, but enough to give her the courage to look once more at the wolf beside her. His face had become clouded in irritation, which she promptly ignored. If he had enough of a problem with her being here he would tell her. Whether she listened or not was another story. She stretched out like a cat flexing her toes. Resting her head on her legs she eyed the male scooching away from her. Maybe she was more intimidating than she thought. Or maybe he had more issues than her. 

Vulture followed the male's eyes looking out over the landscape. She couldn't deny it was beautiful. While she was used to wide, rolling plains, she couldn't deny the beauty in the changing leaves above her. The way that the dappled light shone through in a cacophony of warmth was inviting in a way she could never have imagined. The backdrop of distant mountains further enhancing the feel. It was so different from her own home. Old home,
she corrected herself bitterly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the other speaking once more. His speech was less sure than it had been previously, but she decided not to voice that thought aloud. Her brows rose in surprise before she quickly returned them to normal when he spoke of staying here. Perhaps she had been a bit presumptive but he hadn't sounded to fond of these lands or the pack associated with it moments ago. "Oh, I'm sorry for having assumed. You just didn't sound all too fond of the wolves in these woods," Vulture said knowing she was asking leading questions in the hopes of gaining more. His comment, "not yet," had certainly piqued her interest.

She mulled over his next words thoughtfully. Did she wish to stay here? It would be best to stick somewhere with at least one somewhat friendly face, rather than roughing it in an unknown place. Would the rest of them accept her though, or would she have to hide away on their territory and hope for the best? the questions rushed through her mind stopping only for brief seconds to be analyzed before flying away. Deciding to stick with something easier at first, she angled her body to be facing Clay. "My name is Vulture," She offered back, before choosing to add on. "Who would I need to talk with to stay here? I just want to gather my bearings, and then I can go."

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You just didn't seem too fond of the wolves in these woods. Clay immediately tensed, the muscles along his lean frame bubbling with something foreign -- the opposite of adrenaline or a high of excitement. Dread. Stiffly, Clay shifted his weight onto his side, allowing his forelegs to drape calmly over the edge of the warm stone and his back to flop gently onto to their sides, dangling from beneath his narrow and lean physique. He wasn't oblivious, he knew that the stranger wanted answers. Would he give them? He sighed, turning his head away so that she couldn't look upon the expression that screwed up his face. Eyelids fluttered closed and his nose crinkled, he inhaled, and then exhaled. He would. 

There wasn't any real reason to keep to himself. If she was going to... sick him or whatever, she would have by now. 

“Well...” He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, anxiously glancing down to his paws and the ground that they hovered above. “I-I was a little hasty. They aren't.. b-bad. They're... family. But I haven't seen them in a long time. I was...” Clay's lashes brushed frantically along the edges of his chiseled face as his eyes cut from place to place, clearly uncomfortable with reliving the memories. The torture. “dead. Yeah. I was dead before I came here. For a while. And t-things are just so... different. I got h..hung over the side of a fucking cliff.” He cut himself off before he started rambling, the fur along his shoulders beginning to bristle. He knew, he knew his father hadn't recognized him. Hadn't known it was him. And yet, still, he couldn't shake the anger. A grudge had formed, a dark callous around his beating heart. And oh, how Clay didn't want it to exist. But he was bitter as a grapefruit. 

He didn't glance towards Vulture again, instead settling his eyes upon a tree stump in the distance, focusing his glower onto it. Pouring the disdain and rage that'd begun to bubble up beneath his skin into that one focal point so that it didn't explode from him. And then, a distraction. Vulture. A interesting name... one as unfavorable as his. Who would want to be named Vulture? As far as Clay knew, no one. Just as no one wanted to be named after dirt. He swallowed and then his ears twitched as she asked him about who she needed to talk to. His brows screwed up in confusion, emerald eyes finally swiping to look at her. 

“T-t-these aren't pack lands. Vanderfell's reach doesn't touch here. Can stay as long as we want. T-they can't do anything.”

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The sky overhead had brightened significantly since their meeting. The soft blush tones that had stained it not so long ago had now turned a pale blue. Plush clouds drifted lazily on the weak winds that brushed over Vulture's pelt. Clay had shifted himself to what she presumed was a more comfortable position. She could practically feel the tumultuous thoughts pouring from the male. He was ahead of her now, but she stayed where she was giving him space. Crowding him would lend her no answers, and her curiosity had already been sufficiently piqued. Instead she surveyed her surroundings trying to memorize as much of the layout as possible. She may not stay here long, but it would still do her well to know at least one part of this new place. New world? She was unsure and that alone was enough to send a chill down her spine. 

Vulture's thoughts were interrupted when Clay spoke again. Ears perking forward, she listened intently. She had known a thing or two about being let down by family. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say she knew how to let down family. It had been several years since she last talked to any member of her family. Besides Wren, but she didn't think speaking to the dead counted. Before she had the opportunity to sympathize with Clay, he dropped a bomb on her. His words had caused her eyes to widen from shock. Dead? That just wasn't possible. Had she died too? Is that how she found herself in this place. Her throat constricted as these worries took hold in her already frazzled mind. "I'm sorry for all that you have been through. The gods are not always kind when they assign families," Her words paused as she thought over how best to ask her next questions. "But how can you be dead when you are here talking to me? This place has the power to transport and resurrect?" Her words were questioning, and full of skepticism. Maybe her time would be better spent with a wolf more... sane. 

Watching as Clay's fur bristled, Vulture waited for him to speak once more. When he finally did, she felt some of the tension sag from her shoulders. Where she came from, wolves had practically claimed every square inch of territory as far as she had ever traveled. To have lands, especially lands as fruitful as this lay unclaimed was odd to her. Whatever the reasoning was, she was determined to find it out. She had to admit that she liked the sound of not being rushed to leave this place. While Vulture questioned Clay's sanity, she was still able to acknowledge that having him around was far better than having no one. Plus, she would never admit it, but she had grown used to the comfortable silence of merely existing near her packmates. It was something she would surely miss when she decided to leave this place. "So this Vanderfell pack is home to your family then? They sound like a fun bunch," Her words dripped with sarcasm, punctuated with a large yawn. Feeling uncharacteristically nice for once, Vulture added, "Sometimes, it is a good thing to be different from your family. Without change the world cannot grow." Her previous alpha had said the same words to her when she was around Clay's age. She only hoped he would listen to them more than she had. 

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More questions, more scoffs from Clay, who cast a glower towards the brown furred lass, his emerald eyes smoldering with a silent agitation. Couldn't they sit in silence? His shoulders sagged and he huffed, slinking further downwards into his own skin, attempting to get comfortable -- he didn't plan on moving from this spot, perhaps he'd even take a nap. 

But that'd be hard to do with the yapper he found himself in the company of. Yet... at least he had company. He couldn't expect Renn to constantly hang around when he had responsibilities with Vanderfell, duties to uphold, expectations to meet. He was sure that his sister had heavy ones, too. 

“You think I know?” Clay spit, his thick brows lazily lowering above his eyes that fluttered closed. “I l-like to think the Fates brought me back t-to reap what my bogeyman sowed.” He seethed, teeth gritting, baring from beneath his lips at the very thought of the pungent Vengeance. He would get what was coming, whatever it took, with time. Clay needed to build his strength, he needed to train, to hone his body and his skill. He was a reckless fighter, uncoordinated -- but he'd fix it. 

He eventually calmed again, in time for Vulture's words of wisdom. They only went in one ear and out the other, evident by the ignorant flick of his ear. “We're two worlds apart.” He sighed, finally opening his eyes to glower up at the blue sky, trailing the clouds that passed by languidly. “Part of me wants to stay and p-part of me wants to go.”

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Vulture couldn't hide the scowl that had taken over her face at Clay's vehemence. Respect must not have been a part of his curriculum as a pup. 'Or maybe it was lost in his suffering,' Vulture's ever-logical thoughts did little to ease her. The only thing that did was his next words, the rage and need for revenge dripping from them. Even she, as someone who has only known him for mere moments, knew that this "bogeyman" was likely the source of most of the male's trauma. Rage was something she could understand. It was something she could excuse. She couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering to her parents, and when they had spoken of her in a similar matter. Her thoughts never truly strayed all that far from her transgressions.

"Maybe the fates are more kind than we can know. They do seem to love a good revenge story," Vulture jested, though she still saw the truth in them. What she didn't mention was it seemed like more often than not the one seeking revenge was the one who ended up falling short. Revenge alone made for a poor force to rely on. It was great at instigating, but not at following through. 

Clay spoke once more, speaking of his family and his inner thoughts. "I know a thing or two about being the black sheep of a family. I would offer advice, but I have none. To conform to their will, for me, was to lose all passion in my life. I made mistakes, grave mistakes with grave consequences. Still, I would choose being myself over following the family profession," Vulture's words left her with a slight wistful quality, contrasting the message within. It was true that she would always choose her profession, but does that mean that Wren was always destined to die? The amount of introspection she had done since waking up here was making her head spin. It was more than she had done in years and she was growing quiet tired of it. She needed to get back to something more familiar.

"How are your wounds? I noticed them still bothering you when you left the water. When was the last time they were properly cleaned?"Her tone had become more formal. It was easy to hide away from her thoughts when she could focus on simple things. At least, things that had once been simple. All her brain could conjure up was how to clean a wound and nothing more. Still, just talking about the health of another was a welcome distraction. 

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He grumbled in response, his thoughts meandering lazily over her words regarding family and passions. Passions. He had none, not that he knew of. He just wanted to be free. 

Free of the guilt. Free of the sorrow. The pain. 

Free of the rage. 

He just wished to feel good. 

His head lifted only momentarily to cast a misty eyed look towards Vulture, swallowing the bitter saliva that'd collected in the pouches of his gums. His tongue rolled across the inside cage of his teeth, pressing nervously against the ridges of his canines and his molars that gritted impatiently together. “Yeah... t-that makes sense.” It was all he managed to say in reply, before his eyes pulled away once more and his head was resting upon his paws. 

The aches and the pains were still there, but they were vaguely numb. The stiller he lay, he found, the more the pain subsided. So whenever Vulture inquired about them, he stiffened up, scooching away from her just slightly that it was hardly visible -- but he had. He didn't want anyone touching them, anyone that wasn't Renn, that was. “They're fine.” He snapped suddenly, teeth clicking together angrily. He turned, moving so that his whole body faced away from her, and then there was silence. 

He didn't speak anymore, not for the rest of the day. 

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