Toeing the Line, Fenix and Ghost- or anyone

[Quiet]

Evening fell on the meadow, and the sky dampened to a soft violet. Bats stitched through the moist air, and bees buzzed low over the waving golden grasses. Pine trees edged the clearing in a perfect circle, there graceful, drooping boughs blotting the rest of the forest from view. On the edge, beneath the tangled, tiny leaves of an ancient kenik-kenik bush, a gray wolf sat, and waited. In the shadows, she was all but invisible, but she didn’t stay there for long. In one smooth movement, she stood and paced into the light of the sun’s last glow. Once under the light, the drab grey her coat seemed to be in the darkness was lit aflame in a brilliant glow, as the white exterior fur that only further mottled her fur in normal circumstances caught the light and made her glow like an evening star, or a glowing spirit. And so she was named: Ghost. The she wolf paced the edge of the clearing, stopping time and again to examine the Alpha Pack scent that marked this clearing as a part of the patrol perimeter. Her plan was to wait until a patrol came by, and hopefully get them to take her back to their pack. Hope. Ghost’s heart swelled with it. Ever since Ghost’s caretaker, a nameless loner who had looked after Ghost since her mother abandoned her in the Akemi Mountains two years ago, had died, Ghost had been watching the packs of relocated wolves carefully, noting where they took their dens and how they hunted, which wars they fought and which loners they killed. For she knew she would not survive on her own without the loner to help her, and joining a pack was her best bet. In all Ghost’s research, she had come to the conclusion that the only pack she could join was the Alpha Pack. The Vex pack chased away all wolves without those funny little tags in their ears, and the Arcane pack had such a violent history that she figured it would be better to try her luck alone. The Alpha pack, however, seemed reasonable enough… Ghost realized how tense she was and how fast her heart was beating, and forced herself to sit still and relax. Nevertheless, her tail still twitched anxiously on the mossy ground. This was a bad time of year to approach a pack, she knew, what with pups and all. She had taken precautions to stay on the edge of the patrol line, presumably far enough from the den that the patrol might pause and listen before attacking. But who knew? Ghost had memorized the area so that she could have a chance of escaping is things turned ugly. Darkness seeped across the sky, and the sun drooped below the treeline. A night bird called, low and forlorn. Ghost was disappointed. She had hoped that the patrol would see her in the bright light of day, surrounded by the halo of her sun-mirror fur. Night wore on, and eventually Ghost retreated into the bushes to sleep. She awoke before dawn. The sky was a grey wash, and mist twined through the trees. She shook the dew from her pelt and pace back into the clearing. She waited. After an hour or so, she made up her mind. The longer she stood in this suspense, the more tense and jumpy she got. So she would howl, and bring the patrol to her. With a deep breath, Ghost leaped to her feet, threw her face to the sky, and howled a long, piercing note into the paling sky: “I am here!” About an hour passed. Ghost sad in the clearing, all her senses on hyper-alert. Her ear twitched at every rustle in the woods, and she drew air through her nose every few seconds, trying to catch a scent, any scent. And then, there it was: and wolf scent, wavering in the mist. Getting stronger and stronger. They would be here in a few seconds, she knew. She lowered her head and tail, but braced her paws: She looked suitably submissive, but was ready to shoot off into the woods at the first sign of immediate danger. Ghost realized with a thrill that the pine boughs at one end of the clearing were rustling: They were here. She spoke, her voice quiet and misty. “Hello, friend…”

[Poim]

There was no conceivable reason why Fenix was still alive. He was rivaling Loni in age, and yet didn't have the convenience of a pack to hunt down his meals for him. Lady Luck must be as infatuated with him as he imagined every female wolf on the island to be. Either that, or the Reaper hadn't taken him yet because the nine-year veteran smelled too damn bad. Fenix was a walking, breathing skeleton. His skin had fallen in around his eye sockets and cheek bones, and you could clearly see his ribs beneath his ragged mud-brown pelt. His yellow eyes had turned a dirty, greasy gold with eerie greenish streaks and bloodshot edges. His breath could knock over a bear, and his general odor was one of walking decay. After he and Freida parted ways, Fenix had survived the winter by eating anything and everything he could find that wouldn't kill him or make him sick. But by spring he had become death on four legs; a virtual zombie. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this would be the last spring he would ever see. He had tempted Death for far too long; his life on the island had run its course, but his legacy was far from over. Through the years Fenix had overtaken too many loner females and sired too many children for his bloodlines to die with him. No, Perverted Oldie Wolf Fenix had been working too hard to leave his mark on the island. For the past few weeks Fenix had been following the Tsunami Wolves' scent at a VERY safe distance, eating whatever scraps he could scavenge off of their numerous kills and not daring to come anywhere near the limits of sight, earshot, or smell. With the Tsunami Wolves' reputation, he did not want to arouse their interest, let alone tempt their patience. With his age and their strength, one of the TWs could so much as flick their ear at him and he would fall over. No, Fenix kept his distance. The way he saw it, if one of these days he grew careless and was discovered, he'd at least go out in the most badass ways possible. When Fenix came upon Gnome's carcass and the scent of the Vex pack, he was surprised, but not picky. He had nothing against feeding off of what remained of Gnome's body, and indeed he stayed there a few days to make the most of what was otherwise a free and plentiful meal. Gnome was a healthy pack wolf, and Fenix was the walking dead. After he'd picked as much as he could off of the carcass, he moved on. And it wasn't long before he heard a female howling "I am here!" in the near distance. Fenix's ears picked up. Who was this lingering so close to Vex territory? Didn't she know that the alpha was in labor - or had been - and it was pup season? He smirked and picked up his pace, making a beeline for the girl. Perhaps he could have some fun with her before he died. "Hello, friend..." he heard Ghost say just before he broke into her view. The old male lowered his head and bared his fangs in a cruel grin as he passed through the last of the greening bushes and saw the greyish white female standing there looking shy and demure, submissive and welcoming. It was a sight that really turned him on. Yellow fangs bared and murky yellow eyes shining, Fenix circled her once before stopping in front of her, his hackles bared out of desire, not aggression. "Might want to be careful who you call friend in these parts, sugar. You never know what kind of demented freaks are lurking." Still grinning from ear to ear, Fenix coughed - and his breath may as well have been tinged yellow, what with the sickening rotten-eggs smell that came from his lungs. "What are you doing all the way out here by your lovely self?"

[Quiet]

Ghost looked with confusion as a single, brown wolf entered the clearing. She had been expecting a patrol of two or even three. Her apprehension increased as she noted how ancient and decrepit. It looked like someone had taken the carcass of a dead bear and tried to mold the leftovers into a wolf. Disgusting. His fur was the color of rotten bark, and lacked any sort of gloss. It was falling off in places. His skin hung loose of of an emaciated frame, hinting that in the past, he had been bulky and strong. A has-been. Nope, she thought. Definitely not a pack wolf. He circled her like a hawk, grinning, and stopped in front of her. His yellow fangs were bared in excitement. Wonder what he's so happy about, Ghost mused. "Might want to be careful who you call friend in these parts, sugar. You never know what kind of demented freaks are lurking." Ghost raised an eyebrow, almost gagging in the scent of his sulfurous breath. She slowly relaxed from her tense, submissive pose. This frail old loner was no threat to her. He looked like a breath of air would crumble him like a stack of cards. "What are you doing all the way out here by your lovely self?" "I wanted to join the pack. I was calling for a patrol to come pick me up and take me to their leader, but I don't think they heard. Apparently you did, though." She finally understood the odd light in his eyes. Lust. Ew. But for some reason, she didn't immediately dislike him. The reason hit her like a hoof to the muzzle. This creepy stranger was the spitting image of the loner that had looked after her until a few months back. Undoubtedly related. There was no question in Ghost's mind. Everything from the shape of his face to the color of his fur. A brother? She thought, but no, the loner had been only four years old, and this wolf looked to be... what? Twelve? A father then. Pity filled her. She had to look after this stranger, to honor her caretaker's blood. It was Ghosts duty, her way to thank her after all she had done. But first, she wanted to make sure. It would be a waste of her time to look after some creepy stranger who just bore a resemblance. She tilted her head, determined to be polite to him if he was in fact her caretaker's kin, and sweetly said: "Do... do you have a daughter?"