[The Fringe Forests] Barking Up the Wrong Tree (Rhy/Serrif)

[Gianne Basete]

30th Day of Summer, 512 AV Late Morning Outskirts of the Fringe Forests She needed to loosen her hips. This was her problem. Gill's body rocked in a slow canter beneath her, and it should have been a smoother ride but she kept bobbing up and down. Relax your hips. Gill kept his gait up patiently, despite the fact that he was probably uncomfortable having a stiff body bounce around on his spine. Her mood growing dismal, Gianne reigned him to a halt and slouched over his neck, giving him an affectionate pat. "Sorry boy, I'll get it soon." If she sounded like she was trying to convince herself, she ignored the fact. Gianne clucked her tongue once and nudged Gill's sweaty sides with her heels, coaxing him into a walk. They were moving along the fringe of trees bordering Riverfall, where there was little to disturb them. Gianne was trying to master her seat at the canter, and it wasn't going as good as she'd hoped. They'd been at it for about half a bell now, and if she didn't get it soon she'd just save it for another day. "Again," she grunted, squeezing Gill's sides. He lurched into the canter, and she leaned forward so the momentum didn't leave her tilted backwards. For several strides she bobbed up and down, but then she shoved her heels down and forced herself to relax. It worked. Her hips loosened and she quit bouncing, for the most part. It wasn't the smoothest ride, but it was a huge improvement. In her excitement, she whooped, hunched over the pommel of her saddle, and kicked Gill's sides. Big mistake. Gill jumped in surprise, skittered to the side, then threw out his back feet, sending Gianne up and over his arched neck. She sailed forward a few lengths, too stunned to make a sound, and landed on her back in the grass with a loud woosh! of air from her lungs. It took several chimes of hacking and coughing to get her breath back, and Gill waited patiently next to her, acting as if nothing had happened. Horses, she thought bitterly. Gingerly rising to her feet, she took the loose reigns and patted the gelding's velvety muzzle. "That was a really bad idea, huh? Thanks for putting me in my place, I guess." Gianne led him a while, then remounted. She'd keep it at a leisurely walk now. They worked their way along the treeline, occasionally weaving between the trunks until Gill's ears perked. He quickly halted and raised his head high, snorting uncertainly. For a moment Gianne didn't hear anything, she'd been in too much of trance, but then she registered the barking of a dog a ways off into the woods. She dismounted carefully and coiled the reigns up, giving Gill a reassuring pat. "Lets go see?" she said, mainly out of curiosity. That was the only logical, or maybe illogical, reason she could think of that gave her the urge to investigate. Gill didn't put up a fight as he was led into the trees, but nervously blew air from his nose and they came nearer to the barking. It couldn't be called a clearing, but the trees were thinner here. The dog was barking up into the branches of a fairly short tree. It was about the height of three average sized men. Glancing into the branches, she noticed a fat raccoon clinging to its perch. It hissed down at the dog, paced along its branch then back again, clearly searching for an escape route. Gianne didn't know if she should call to the dog or leave now that she knew the reason for all the ruckus. If it was aggressive, she would go for the shortbow tied to her saddle. Her quiver was strapped to her back already and pregnant with a full set of arrows.

[Rhy]

What Gianne doesn't realize is that Rhys high, incessant barking is not about aggression. Its more along the lines of a colourful string of profanity. And well deserved too. She'd been tracking that racoon for bells. It started with the tufts of fur caught in a boison berry bush in the fringe forest in the early morn. This is her favourite time to hunt, and once Rhy caught the musky scent she immediately started circling, looking for traces. The bright grey and black fur, and the bush stripped of berries even in the more difficult reaches, told her it belonged to a racoon. It was a lucky stroke. Stalking nocturnal creatures just as they were fatigued and crawling to burrows and nests made it easier. Tongue wagging and pace brisk, she set to work with a bubbling enthusiasm. This will be easy. A bell later she's standing neck deep in a thicket of grass wondering what went wrong. Crafty little bugger, she mumbles to herself, you know I'm comin' don't you? The track, so clearly stomped into the grass by what must be a very fat racoon, has stopped dead. Even the scent seems to have dissipated into the air. Confusion and determination etch deep lines in her muzzle as she circles the area with her nose to the ground in ever widening circles for what seems like an eternity. You couldn't have jumped far enough for me to lose you. And you couldn't have backtracked with me so close behind. If someone else got you first there would be a new scent. I won- Rhy yips in surprise and dances back a few paces. She had run straight into the low bough of a tree partially hidden in a thicket back along the track. She shakes her head and lets out a huff of frustration before leaning in for a closer look. The bough leads to a thin tree leaning west from the wind off the water, making its branches droop and brush the ends of the grass. She stares at it for a long time while her mind tries to work out exactly why something doesn't look quite right. The scent is stronger here, but the track is close by... It didn't backtrack, or I would have seen it, and it didn't jump or it would have crushed something. Which means... It jumped up! Her muzzle, which was securely planted to the ground for the past ten chimes, whips up just in time to see a shadow shift in the foliage above. The racoon, once it heard her coming, had backtracked only a few feet until it had found the bowed branch of the tree. Then it had lept high on the bough and scrambled up without disturbing the wind worn bark. She reckons that racoons don't get that fat and old unless they're clever. And this one is very, very clever. The eyes of a dog are extremely motion sensitive. And while Rhy can't quite pick out the creatures shape in the shadows, she can see the dark patch that doesn't move with the pattern of the leaves. A triumphant bark and valiant effort to scale the bending tree is all it takes to scare the racoon out of its hiding place, and a furious chase ensues. The critter, although much slower, weaves and ducks through roots and saplings like a fish in the reeds. Just keeping out of reach of Rhys snapping jaws until finally it starts to tire, and in a last ditch effort to throw off its pursuer it vaults itself up a short tree and stands there, hissing and spitting, and Rhy comes to a screeching halt at the base of the tree. She's been laying siege ever since. So, yes, the frustrated barking is well deserved. And it doesn't take long for Rhy to realize she's not alone in her little corner of the forest. And she knows the stranger is humanoid before she even faces them. Only humans run towards the sound of an angry animal. Curiosity and compassion coupled with a bold lack of caution, she suspects. When she does turn, she notices two things right away: the woman is extremely tousled and sporting a large grass stain across her the top of her forehead, and she's carrying a bow and arrow. Huh, maybe this day is lucky after all. She immediately stops barking and her high arched tail relaxes into a friendly wag. And after a moment proceeds to trot over to the woman with the occasional growl stolen over her shoulder to make sure her furry friend stays treed. He gives her an angry jitter in reply. She approaches the horse softly with head bowed and a friendly "moof". The woman might be armed, but humans are rarely vicious. Caution is an easy sacrifice for something like this. A few seconds go towards catching the woman's scent and inching closer to see if the horse is the panicy type or ok with dogs. Once Rhy deems they are properly acquainted she backs towards the tree and bows in a playful gesture, throwing her head towards the top of the tree like she was expecting a ball to be thrown, or drop out of the sky. Now bubbling with anticipation at the thought of that ugly old creature in her teeth, she pushes as much expression as she can into her face as she gives the woman a significant stare, followed by a glance at her quiver, and throws her head again. She's well versed with speaking to people through body language, but its not an exact science and she hopes she's hitting all the right notes. She would shift, but that drains a lot of energy. Besides, the day is young and if the woman doesn't understand she'll have to abandon the siege and go hunting again. Will you help me? Please help me. Its a matter of dignity now! And think of all the meat he's storing under that pelt! When she doesn't move Rhy gives a whimper stares at the tree like she's willing herself to fly up there and get it herself.

[Gianne Basete]

The expression on Gianne's face was probably a sight to see. The instant the clamoring hound caught sight of her, it wagged its tail and made a b-line right for her. It was such a sudden change of attitude that she didn't know how to react. The dog would occasionally send a growl back to the tree, but there was nothing threatening about the way it approached. The way she approached. Gianne caught sight of the dog's nether region and saw that it was female. The dog was also cautious of Gill, seeming almost respectful. But Gill paid no attention, just ducked his large head to scent the other animal, then went back to standing stoically. He was used to dogs and didn't give them much notice. The hound stared at Gianne with eerily intelligent eyes, moved back toward the tree with the coon and made several gestures. Did she just motion toward my quiver? Gianne wasn't stupid, but she had never had a dog try and communicate with her. She made a face, trying to think of what it would want. Then the coon screeched again, and it all came together. Her jaw dropped as she stared at the dog, fathoming what had just coincided. Almost dreamlike, she fetched the shortbow from her saddle and nocked an arrow while making her way to the tree. The raccoon leered down at her from its branch, almost like it knew what was going to happen too. "I'll probably miss," she told the hound, then made another face. Why am I talking to a dog? she wondered to herself as she pulled the string back and anchored the shot to her cheek. She sighted the raccoon down the shaft of her arrow then adjusted to the left, since her shots tended to favor toward the right, and released. The arrow sailed past the coon and buried itself into a branch higher up in the tree. The fat little beast shrieked as the projectile flew by, and in its fear lost its balance and toppled off its perch, hitting another branch on the way down until it landed in the tall grass below with a muffled thud. "There," she said to the dog, barely glancing at her. Gianne was looking longingly into the high branches at the red feathered shaft of her lost arrow. She was considering trying to climb up there to fetch it. "Hmm," she murmured, then shrugged and worked her way back to Gill, where she strapped her bow back to its place on the saddle. He flicked his tail absently at a bothersome fly and twitched an acknowledging ear in her direction. Once the bow was secure she turned back to watch the hound, leaning against Gill's side comfortable.

[Rhy]

Rhy quite nearly whooped with joy when the woman dismounts and nocks her arrow. Clever woman! She must be an animal lover if she could read such a complicated request in a dog. Rhy shuffles out of the woman's way and stands ready directly under the hissing racoon. Her maw is gaped and eager when she gives the woman a nod at the comment about her chances of missing, although she doesn't think she noticed. The twang of the loosed arrow and a shriek from its intended target is the only herald to the fluffy projectile that lands with a thud to Rhys left, followed by a heavy branch. Despite its rather jarring ride to the ground the racoon has enough sense to roll to its feet and stumble away out of the clearing. Rhy bounds after it in chase, and in not a few feet has her jaws locked around the animals neck. She does not choke it but applies enough pressure to crack the crooked spine, and the metallic taste of blood gushes into her mouth as her canines find the jugular. There we go. You had a good run of it you spitting devil. The carcass is lifted from the ground with her powerful jaw and she thinks to go back to the woman, where she is watching patiently and stroking her mount. I'll eat well on your meat, but she should have your pelt. I'd never have caught you without her. When Rhy trots back with the coon swinging from the neck she carries herself a little higher. Despite not catching it on her own, she's quite pleased with herself. This thing will easily last her for a day or two if she gorges herself. Three if she could find some way to keep it fresh. Anyway, she will need to go into the city if she plans to have it skinned, or snatch some salt for preserving. You need to be human for that. For a second Rhy seems to be disintegrating. Points of light lift from her back from an invisible breeze and then condense into a pillar, then into a lean, dark skinned girl. The shift takes no more then a second. She spits the coon into her hands and smiles at the woman is a bright, happy way. But the blood in her teeth and dripping from her chin does not quite pull the desired effect. "Thank you! I have enough here to last me a long time. Do you want the pelt? Its nice and thick. Well, its kindda ragged around the neck but I'm sure the Stained Pelt would love to have it." She mimes pulling back the string of a bow and aims for an invisible victim. The coon swinging stupidly from her hand. "That bow really comes in handy. You should come hunting with me next time. I celebrate my first year in less then a week. Its high time I start hunting bigger game." As usual, Rhy does not say a word in greeting or offers her name. As far as she's concerned she acquainted with this woman. A glance back at her has Rhy noticing the the stripe of green showing between her bangs, and tinting the colour of her hair across her back. Her lips thin out in an attempt to keep from smiling. "Tough morning? No offence, but you're a mess."

[Gianne Basete]

In a savage sort of way, it was beautiful to watch the dog chase down the raccoon and give the killing blow to its neck. The bones broke with a dull crunch that sent a chill up Gianne's spine. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as the hound returned, a little prance in its step. This made her smile, and she was a moment away from crouching and holding her palm out for the dog to sniff until the lights stopped her dead. Without breaking stride, the hound went from a beautiful brindle furred hunter to a skinny, wild haired and naked dark skinned girl. Gianne's jaw hung open as if unhinged as the girl gave her a happy but bloody smile. It was a little unnerving, but she was already too surprised for that to bother her. The girl, so suddenly revealed to be Kelvic, broke into conversation as if the two had known each other longer than just a few chimes. She was obviously full of surprises. "I...," was all that Gianne could spit out at first, then she cleared her throat and her head. A little hoarsely she continued, "I'll gladly take the fur." A pause before she added lamely, "Thank you." The girl pantomimed shooting a bow and forged ahead with the odd conversation. "I could come hunting with you, if I knew when you actually wanted to go. I can almost any time. I'm at the Sanctuary a lot, that's where you can find me," she supplied, trying not to look at the girl's body. Keep your eyes on her face and you can pretend she's wearing clothes. Gianne raised her brows as the girl scrutinized her face and made an obvious attempt at stifling a smile before commenting on her roughed up appearance. This helped Gianne relax more for some reason; some of the shock easing. "I was going for a ride, and I was being stupid so he showed me my place and threw me off," she explained good naturedly, with a shrug of her shoulders and a crooked smile. "A bath is what I really need right now." She grimaced as she looked down at herself, seeing her rumpled clothes and the dirt stains on her hands and knees. Of course she didn't know she had a big grass mark on her face. She mentally shook herself again and looked back at the Kelvic girl, this time really looking, despite the fact that she was naked. Skinny, not much of a shape, long wild hair, and pretty brown eyes. Exotic skin color too. She was getting used to the naked fact, so it was easier to talk. "So," she started, still a little awkward, "I've never talked to a Kelvic before. I mean, that I know of. Have you been in Riverfall all your life?" It was strange to think that this girl, or dog, was just going to turn two years old. Physically she looked around Gianne's own age, and she'd never been taught much about Kelvics so she didn't know what to expect.

[Rhy]

Rhy shares a good natured laugh at the woman's morning ordeal. "Haha, hot blood isn't he? I like him." A tentative pat on the horses velvet nose is all she manages. Still scared he's going to get flighty or nervous, since her luck with horses is usually pretty sour, but he seems fine with her. The lady seems to find her eyes (which never wavered from Rhys face until now) and takes a second to scrutinize her. She has good eyes. Something of a spark in them. The second it takes to size her up has no doubt given her a lot of information. Maybe theres something of the hunter in her eyes. "Never talked to a Kelvic? Really? There're a few in Riverfall." The blood is coagulating on her face, so she moves to wipe it away with the back of her hand. "Just don't trust the cats", she adds conspiratorially, but doesn't elaborate. "I haven't lived here forever. I started out in Endylas actually. My family moved out here, but I was the only one to make it to Riverfall. Been here... Three seasons? Two? Anyway, I will be celebrating my first birthday and my official entrance into maturity", she finishes proudly. But she does note with admiration that, while the lady is just above her maturity herself, she did so with a strong body, immaculate cleanliness and what she can only assume is great health. Something that usually comes with wealth, but the way she dresses hints at a more modest living. Even the way she moves says she is as comfortable out in the open as any animal. She is just about to comment on this when she hears the soft drum of padded footfalls. The horse seems to hear it too. Usually this wouldn't alarm her, but it sounded a lot bigger then your average game. Her body goes ridged and her eyes snap in the direction of the sound, and is horrified to see the tawny eyes of a large wolf staring from a thicket to their left. Now, if this was just one predator she would have no problem staking her claim and having a scrap if necessary. Or a proper fight if she had something worth protecting. But wolves never go anywhere alone. And while Rhy is considered huge by her breeds standard, she's within the league of your run-of-the-mill wolf. They are all her size. Some can even be bigger. She is just about to take her chances and bolt when the sinister pair of eyes blink and move on. The message could not have been clearer: we don't want you. Of course, a racoon wouldn't be very satisfying to a pack, would it? Then what do they want? Oh. "Ah, right. Ok", she starts nervously. "Can you hear that? You have a stalker." Her nose is lifted and takes a long drag of the cool morning air, but they are downwind and she doesn't catch much. She relies on her hearing and sight instead. "Three, maybe four actually. They are after him", she nods in the horses direction,"he won't get out of the trees fast enough." A low, open-mouthed snarl works its way from a short hedge a few meters from the left, and out steps a lean red wolf. Following the reds example, three more do the same. Manifesting from behind trees and shrubs like they just popped out of the ground. Dumbfounded, scared, and more then a little furious, Rhy wonders how she could have possibly missed them. Right now, her mind is battling the fight and flight instinct. The only thing keeping her standing there is that tiny human part of her mind thats telling her to think this through. Her knowledge of canines have definitely given her an advantage, but she knows that even with her ability to communicate with the wolves they won't just leave. The horse is too big a prize. She prowls forward until she can grip the branch the raccoon knocked on its way down. Its surprisingly heavy and springy, its centre still a healthy green. She sidles to the side until the woman and her are touching shoulder to shoulder, she speaks low and fast, tripping over words. "See the stocky brindle straight ahead? With the mangled ear? Thats the Alpha," she explains with total certainty, "if you can kill him with a shot, that would be great. Or at least wound him and they might disband and run away. Just don't miss. We have a minute or two while they size us up. Maybe a few more if I up the anti." She turns to face the vicious foursome with a shaky breath. "Please, please don't miss." That was about the limit of her strategic planning capabilities. The human will have to come up with the rest. Her own human side appeased, she drops into a more comfortable mode. The instinctual side that does not plan ahead but takes things as they come. Her whole expression seems to pull back. Lips are thinned to a taunt line towards her ears, her eyebrows raise towards her hairline and every line in her face acquires new depth as her mouth opens into a parody of a wicked grin. Teeth are exposed past the gums and her overly long tongue is pushed forward and curled back in her mouth. Her eyes dilate to what could easily be mistaken for a solid black, and open so wide they look to be as big as a tigers. Arms are tucked in, shoulders thrown back, and both back and knee slightly bent while her hands hover in front of her belly, clutching her branch. The expression looks forced. The position is awkward and out of place. And all-in-all it would look rather comical, if it wasn't for the sound rolling from her chest in dilating waves. Something between grown men drowning, a thousand pieces of cloth being torn and sandpaper on fresh skin. A perfect concerto of a snarling growl that would put any predator to shame. She isn't posturing, parading, or warning. As dogs are apt to do. She is threatening. It might buy the woman more time for a straight shot.

[Gianne Basete]

"He's not really spirited, I just... startled him. That's how I could put it," she explained. "If anything, he's actually on the lazy side." The girl's comment about cats made her laugh, and she smiled crookedly. "I'll watch my back, I promise." Gianne listened to the rest of her small tale, with growing curiosity. She wondered where the rest of her family could be, and why one so apparently young would be on her own. But she didn't know much of Kelvics, like what age they are permanently on their own. She was taking a breath to ask when Gill's ears pinned flat against his skull and a nervous snort of air blew from his nostrils, buffeting her cheek. He pranced a few anxious steps to the side before the tension on the reigns stopped him. She laid a hand on the horses neck and looked at the Kelvic, a question on her lips but the expression on the girl's face froze her. Gianne followed her eyes and saw another pair peering at them through the underbrush. A chill ran up her spine, locking her in place. The girl was speaking, but she didn't catch much. Except for the last part. "They're after him." Her head snapped around to look at Gill, his head high and ears shoved forward. The poor horse's eyes were rolling in their sockets with fear. He could smell them, she knew, and he wanted so badly to run. Gianne was conflicted, not knowing if she should let him take his chances and run. No. Shoving her way through the tall grass, she pulled the frightened horse toward the tree that the coon had been flushed from. On a semi-low branch, she knotted the reigns as a horrible snarl ripped itself from a throat somewhere behind her. Fear and bile rose up in her throat, and she went to retrieve her bow, clumsily untying it from its place on the saddle. With a weapon in her hand, she feels marginally better as she turns to look at the red wolf that emerged from the brush. Several more followed quickly after. "I understand," she whispered, acknowledging the girl's instructions. How can I not miss? she thought to herself frantically. My hands are trembling like leaves, and I'm not even a good shot in the first place. Welling tears stung her eyes but she forced them back, and took a rattling breath. The Kelvic's back was to Gianne, so she couldn't see the transformation in her face, only in her posture. It looked odd until she heard the growl. It was absolutely menacing, and she never knew a human throat could make that sound. She wouldn't want to be the one being snarled at like that. The wolves were staring at the girl now, their hackles raised and muzzles quivering with their own snarls. With a quiet whimper, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it. It took two tries because her hands were shaking so badly. A warm breeze caressed her sweaty face, giving her a sudden thought. Kihala, Dira, please be in my fortune today. Don't let this be the day we die. The wind tickled her face again and rustled the leaves over her head. Caiyha, help me. If her prayers sounded extra pleading, she assumed the goddesses would understand, seeing the situation. Her arms shuddered as she pulled back the bowstring, anchoring the shot at her cheek. The red feathered fletching tickled her skin. She took a great breath, then let it out. Her trembling, to her relief, stilled. She could have cried right there, as she aimed the arrow toward the alpha's flank. Hopefully if she injured him they would turn tail and leave, but she'd have to actually hit him first. All these thoughts and emotions happened in the blink of an eye, as she readied her shot. In her adrenalin charged state she forgot to compensate toward the left, so when she released the string, the arrow veered to the right. The string was still humming as the broadhead embedded itself next to the wolf's flank, in the soft flesh beneath the rib cage, with a sickening sound. The beast shrieked and lurched away from the arrow, as if to escape the shaft sticking from its side like a giant thorn. Gill nickered frantically and reared back, throwing his weight on the reigns and branch. It creaked but held, and he landed back on his front hooves with a great thud. Gianne dropped the bow and stared at the wolf, backing away a few feet as she pulled her dagger from its sheath strapped to her belt, holding the handle in a death grip.

[Rhy]

Whats taking her so long, Rhy moans inwardly, I can't keep this up. The time it takes for the woman to pull her shot is agonizing. Every muscle is wound taunt and humming with the nervous impulse to lash out. She keeps up her crude attempt at intimidation, throwing everything she has into staying them off and keeping herself locked in place. But her zeal is pushed too far. She looks desperate. Finally there is a familiar twang as the arrow is loosed and a shuddering chill as it passes to her left, raising gooseflesh and a nervous twitch. She doesn't have time to cover her ears before the target screams in pain, the shaft of the arrow buried halfway through its abdomen. And she doesn't expect the powerful reverberation as all of the horse’s weight comes crashing down. This has a very immediate effect on the pack. The two closest pull back with an intelligible sound, but the third is shocked into action, and it rushes forward. Rhy has a tendency to go for the obvious hit when she fights. Most animals do. So when the wolf launches at her with its teeth aiming for her throat she pulls back her weight and takes a swing at the offending animal in true brawler style: aim for whatever you can reach. But the branch is too heavy or she is too slow, instead of clubbing it at the end of the branch she catches the wolf at the side of the head only a few inches below her wrist. It was still enough force to knock the animal off course, anyway. This earns a loud “Ha!” from Rhy that is somewhere between a bark, release of tension and a victory cheer. It nearly chokes her with all the foam accumulating in her mouth from the growling. The wolves seem to be thinking twice, and at least one is circling and looking for a way past the human and kelvic. She takes a second while her own opponent is down to glance behind her at the woman. Just long enough to see the look of terror on her face. But she is holding together well, and the knife she is gripping looks deadly enough, even if the knuckles around it are bleached as white as the bones beneath them. At least they are rethinking this, she notices even the voice in her mind is high pitched with tension, she makes a note to lower it into a calmer tone, but if thats the best we can do we are in trouble. And its true. The human couldn't kill the alpha instantly, (although the way its spinning with its eyes rolled back its very doubtful it will last long) and the Kelvic couldn't even land a proper blow! “We have to do better then this!” she yells, the private conversation in her mind bubbling forward and spilling from her mouth with its accompanying ferocity. At least her outburst seems to mollify her opponent, and it goes back to studying Rhy with a uneasy circling motion. Rhy takes this opportunity to wipe the sweat beading on her forehead and move back so she is directly in front of the woman and the other wolves. Not that she has a gods-damed hope of taking them all on her own, but she is confident the human will help her if she gets in trouble.

[Gianne Basete]

Gianne closed her fearful eyes for a moment and hugged the dagger to her breast, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. They need you. Think. Another shaky breath and her nerves stilled, but only a little. A wolf lunged for the Kelvic girl and Gianne screamed, but the girl swung her branch and clubbed it in the head, knocking it away. Another wolf was circling around now, looking for an opening to take advantage of. Gill shrieked and pulled on his ties once more. The branch groaned and bowed in protest, and Gianne didn't know how it was managing to hold. "We have to do better than this!" the girl shouted, moving to block the wolves off. Caiyha, forgive me, but I will kill them if I must, she thought, surprisingly calm. With that, she stepped forward to join the girl in facing the wolves, dagger held ready at her side. Another wolf stepped forward, a big gray beast with horrifying teeth. It didn't even hesitate to launch itself at her. Gasping, she threw up her arm, and its teeth closed around her forearm. Its weight hit her in the chest, knocking her to the ground where it crushed her, canines biting into flesh. Too horrified to even scream, Gianne beat at its face with her left fist. It was biting her right arm, which held the dagger. Clumsily she transferred the knife to her left hand, which was one of the most painful sensations she'd ever experienced. With a blind stab, she thrust the blade up into the wolf's throat. It made an odd, wet sound that was morbindly fascinating. The wolf garbled and reflexively bit deeper into her arm. This time she screamed. When she ripped the dagger from its throat, its yellow eyes rolled and its jaw relaxed. Blood pumped out onto her shirt with each beat of its heart, and with the last thump of life in its chest the awful beast collapsed in a heap on top of her. Bile rose in her throat and she shoved desperately at its body, groaning with the effort and pain it left in her right arm. The other wolves stared, transfixed by the smell of death, blood and fear. Gianne couldn't see them for the large corpse lying on top of her, but she could hear their labored breathing.

[Rhy]

There was a moment of gratitude as the woman stepped forward with her dagger held protectively to her chest. But the feeling was quickly replaced by horror as a large grey beast leapt at her. She takes the brunt of its weight to her chest and falls heavily on her back, and Rhy can hear the deflated sound as the air is knocked from her lungs. "Get up!" Rhy shrieks with a note of real panic. "Get up!" For all her screaming, she doesn't dare get any closer. She makes no move to pull the dog off of the woman or help in any way. The only she she does is raise her branch high over her shoulder for the attack she knows is coming. Because the one thing you cannot do when fighting with a canine, under any circumstances, is let yourself be pulled down. This is not lost on the other two red wolves still standing. Emboldened by the prone human, and the smell of rich red blood, they come running from the side opposite the snarling Kelvic. Streaking low to the ground, one behind the other, they both aim for human flesh not covered under the snarling mass of grey fur. Rhy grits her teeth and sprints to reposition herself. The woman isn't screaming anymore, she can't even tell if she's still breathing with her heartbeat hammering away in her ear like some perverse war drum. The branch comes crashing down with all of her weight and more force then she thought she had. Powered by panic and a bone chilling fear of what is happening to the human behind her. A solid hit to the side of the head and the red monster in the front buckles like a broken toy. The follow through of her swing isn't strong enough to sweep it aside, but the jarring impact vibrates through her arm and her one and only weapon spins out of her hands. She cant keep track of the red wolf before the other one behind it hits her like a landslide. Is it dead? Is it going after the woman? Is it running away? All of these questions evaporate as she shifts to her animal body and lands on the grey wolfs corpse in a snarling tangle of gold and red fur. Rhy is not a fighter. She knows this. So she rips and fights and tries to break the scrap as soon as she can, the two alternating from low lunges on the ground to tearing at each other on their hind feet.