[fallen to the ranks of a scavenger] [/open]

[ventana]

Still she leaked a trail of crimson red liquid from a certain wound near her shoulder that was a bit deeper and more serious than that of the numerous scars that littered her legs. They had already began to heal, but would obviously remain as permanent scars to constantly remind the traumatized wolf of the massacre of her family. That awful day.. those greedy humans and filthy mutt-dogs would pay with their lives for what they had done to hers. Even the innocent would still not be safe from her vicious jaws if they crossed her path. Humankind and dogs were nothing but trash that needed to be taken care of if they foolishly decided to wander away from their little villages or packs. In this life, it was survival of the fittest, and the most fit would win. Even in her condition, Ventana did not plan on losing. Hunger and pain could be driven away quite easily in the face of her uncontrollable rage.

Even now she had become immune to her pain. Lying next to an old grave, the white wolf panted in her exhaustion. She'd ran here seeking a shelter and food. Her throat ached for water. Every wound on her body, which were numerous, stung, even if only one still bleed. It was a disgrace for one so mighty to be in such a state, but she ignored it. The stinging wrath of killed humans was an annoyance, but it'd been hurting nonstop and she'd learned to ignore it. Water she found in a face after removing the flowers. It was dirty, but satisfying. Food would be more difficult. In front of her lay a skeleton of a small rabbit, the meat licked clean off the prey's body by the hungry wolf. That was not enough. It was embarrassing to stoop to such a low rank as a scavenger, but Ventana found food in the form of human corpses she dug from certain graves. As such, human bones lined the ground around her. The hunger was not fully quenched, but she was satisfied.

The moon was hidden behind a mass of clouds, and the wolf, used to cold temperatures, wished for snow. Not only would it be a source of water, but she could cool herself with the flakes. Her loud howl filled the night air, pleading the clouds to come raining down. It was of no use, but the howl could bring about some foolish prey to the area. All the Arctic Wolf could do was wait and watch with her golden irises into the pitch black darkness.

[nightblood]

Night. A cool wind made its way through the darkness, rusteling leaves and grass. Eventually it made its way to a small, dark hill. The grass on this hill was black and corse. It was not until the world took a breath and breathed anew on this hill when the mound stirred. It grunted and shifted in it's sleep until it could not deny wakefulness any longer. It was at this time that the small hill was revealed to be a large wolf.

A great black and redbrown head shot into the sky, emitting a rather loud yawn that could be identified with that of a lion's roar to smaller creatures. A pink tounge dipped over the end of the muzzle and curled back as if to avoid an unpleasent fall over a cliff. As the jaw shut, eyes opened. A profile of the right side would show a fearsom crimson beacon, able to split the night if it wanted to. However, fromt he left side, one could spot flaw from a mile away. Two horizontal scars showed that something was wrong, even if one did not have medical training. A close up would prove suspicions. A slit, like a canyon, made it's home in the center of the pupil, carving across the surface of the eye.

This flaw did not take away fear from this ominous canine's forboding size. This was the kind of wolf that most fearsome tales were told of. This was made clear as she stood up on all fours. A single fang on a leather string swung down. It was considerably smaller than the wolf's fangs. One of education could tell it was a dog's fang at first glance.

As the great beast walked forward, the moonlight found a break in the clouds and burst through it, landing on the wolf's shoulder and illuminating a red tattoo, a spiked tribal marking of meaning known only to her. About that time, a sound broke the silence of the cemetary. NightBlood looked around for its source, but could not find the owner. Such a sad, pleading voice, but obviously not a pup's.

Ordinarily, Night would continue on her own path, but curiosity got the better of her. She would find this howling wolf and find out what was wrong, even if she ended up not caring. She flicked an ear, trying to remember it's location. A half-hearted leap forward and NightBlood was off at a clumsy gallop, weaving her way between the numerous head stones. If one was vigilant enough, they would see that she had a pronounced limp in her left hind leg. A scar would announce the problem. She had had a previous injury that caused her akward gait.

"It's not what I took from you, it's not what I stole. We are born like this... Like this...!"

For some reason, NightBlood saw it fit to sing her arrival. In all honesty, it sounded like she was half growling it.

"The time has come to change this, to stretch the thought a mile. We've lost that kind of spirit. We want it back today. The time is right to change this, to make the life we know. They took what we were given. We'll get it back again..."

Perhaps it was that she thought it would give the wolf a warning that she was coming to inspect the howl. Then she could give it the opportunity to run like most everyone else did.

[Donn]

((Please note this character of mine is chemically Harmful(Xn) and Dangerous for the Envionment(N). I have to notify you of this difference, which has been otherwise permitted.))

The breeze swept around Tricker Dioxide, as he slowly moved through the graveyard. His nose couldn't smell anything, it's sense dulled to nothing. He was glad of the breeze though, it was cooler than the rest of the air.

Tricker, full name Trichlorofluoromethane, was not a very healthy wolf. As he watched the silhouettes of the graves against the moonlight, he felt as if he ought to rest there permanently himself. Named after the harmful chemical he was part of, Tricker was a creature that under normal circumstances, should have been dead. He felt a slight sense of irony that he walked amongst the dead, when he himself should be lying with them.

A howl rang out across the graveyard, and it sounded even more haunting with the rustling of the leaves, blown by the breeze. Tricker turned his head in the direction of it, and stood still. So far, he had not met anyone since his arrival in these aprts, and he had a feeling introductions would come about very soon. A noise behind him turned his head the other way. Weaving it's way through the headstones was what first appears to be a huge shadow. As it came into the light, Tricker saw it was in fact a huge wolf. It was singing as well. How bizarre. A big, singing wolf.

Tricker was nervous. He didn't like the look of her, but at the same time, did not carry the terror that normal wolves would of this canine's size. He hadn't actually met anyone on the outside before, and therefore was ignorant of sizes. For all he knew, everyone around here was that big, and he was some kind of small mutation. Tricker didn't bother hiding either. His orange fur turned out very visible, even in the dark, and made the black "X" on his side very obvious as well. If the wolf could read human symbols, as Tricker knew, then she would know it meant "Harmful". To Tricker, it didn't sound like something that helped with meeting people. It would more make them averse to him, in fact.

Tricker stood still. He made no motion, and no sound. He simply watched as the huge wolf approached, even closer, still singing. Or, what Tricker took to be singing, as it was a very growly voice.

[ventana]

ooc;; Sorreh. ^^; And sorry it's so short. Muse = dead.

bic;;

There was a curious scent in the air of not one, but two wolves, neither of which seemed familiar. As much as she recognized that it was an impossibility, she still desperately hoped that at least one other member of her pack had made it through and escaped just as she had. It was a foolish dream, but Ventana could not get it out of her mind. Though that was unimportant now. These two trespassers could possibly turn to prey. She’d never feasted on the blood and flesh of a fellow wolf before, and part of her urged to know what it tasted like. The other part of her wanted to use these two as some sort of ally until she settled down and was healed. Releasing yet another howl into the night sky, Ventana was not going to come to them. It was better to call out to these strangers and see if they came. If not, then they simply weren’t worth her time.

Finally, one came into view. This newcomer was larger than herself, but it didn’t scare Ventana in the least. She wasn’t about to just heel over and die. Not after all she’d been through. Emitting a low growl as a percaution, she uneasily stood, still weak from her injuries. “Who are you, trespasser?” she snarled.

[nightblood]

"Somewhere someone's gun, someone's gun is laughing! It's not what I gave to you, it's not what I sold. We are born like this! It's not what I took from you, it's not what I stole. We are born like this!"

It seemed that the darkness and the subtle hints of mystery and violence were getting to NightBlood, as she suddenly found herself almost skipping to wherever it was she was going. A terrible, satisfied grin lept onto her muzzle as she 'sang' the song that most others would find bizarre and grim.

"You try your best to mock me. You're always in my way. You've lost what you've been given. You'll get it back today. The time is right to change this, to make the life we know. They took what you've been given. You'll get it back again..."

“Who are you, trespasser?”

The force of the female's voice nearly knocked the dark wolf over. NightBlood had been so caught up in the song that she had almost forgotten what she was doing. She came to a sudden halt, skidding to a stop beside a broad head stone, clearly meant for a family lying below.

NightBlood stared blankly at the white wolf before her. Although she was still a few yards away, Night's large ears picked up her voice very clearly. A moment passed before her face softened in a slight relief. The wolf was injured, probably not able to pick a fight, though her expression showed otherwise. Still, NightBlood always made a point not to underestimate those who were down on their luck.

"G'd-evenin' to you too there, missy."

Night was making no effort to hide her southern accent. Truth be told, it growing a little faint anyway, and she sounded a little pirate-ish with her usual pack accent coming into the mix. No matter. Voice was voice, and although she had the talent to change it, she'd rather keep it as is.

"This land belongs to no one, save the dead who inhabit it. Who are you teh claim it?"

A glint of orange made the large wolf turn her head rather quickly. On the other side of the head stone stood another wolf almost as tall as she was, although not in any shape to run or fight.

"Well, hello there, mate."

NightBlood put a paw on top of the headstone and lifted herself up a bit more to get a better look at him. The male sported a symbol that looked like an 'X' on his side. This one was not bred for hiding. The brightness of his pelt showed that.

Anyone who knew NightBlood would have marked this as a day to remember. Despite all her usual, brutish, rude, aloof, angry, indifferent attitude, Night seemed to be... well, happy.

[Donn]

It was speaking to him. Tricker was surprised he even understood it, although the voice it came out in was... odd. As if this wolf couldn't speak properly. She didn't seem able to pronounce words like "To" or "Good". Tricker felt a little sorry for this creature, but then thought, what if it was just him? Maybe they would think him odd for speaking what he thought was normal. After all, he hadn't spoken to anyone here yet.

Tricker opened his muzzle, and tried to. His throat tingled a little bit, and Tricker didn't feel he could speak any louder than a low growl, or it would hurt. His throat was not in a good condition. Nothing about Tricker Dioxide was in a good condition. Including his grasp of language.

"The... best of the... night... upon you, miss. Interrogate... attend." He said slowly, pausing between words. He didn't speak too well, and as a result some of the things he said came out a bit strange. What he meant by 'Interrogate', was that he wanted to ask her a question. "Identify self... if you please. Myself is identified... as Trichlorofluoromethane Dioxide. Abbreviation to 'Tricker'... of most of... the time." He introduced himself as best he could, but he had difficulty making it sound like proper sentences. Tricker hoped they'd understand.

[nightblood]

NightBlood's ears went backwards as she stared at the orange wolf, trying to comprehend his words. His voice was low and she had to strain her ears to hear him. It seemed that he was studdering... and speaking in some form of military code. She finally understood when he said his name. He had asked for her name as well. Wow, this was going to be a little complicated.

"Name's NightBlood, Tricker."

The large wolfess turned to the female stranger that had addressed her first. Without taking her paw off the stone, she attempted to keep this incounter from becomming violent.

"What'd they call you, lass?"