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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

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Into The Woods

Pairing: werewolf!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Werewolf!AU] It’s love at first sight when you move into a quaint, little house by the forest’s edge, but you soon find that there’s more waiting for you in the woods than you originally thought.

Word Count: 10k

A/N: my third commissioned story! this work has been altered so everyone can read it, but the plot remains the same. this story was a blast to write, and i hope you all enjoy it! <3

With a step back and a firm tug, the back door slammed shut with a satisfying click. You grinned as you turned the key in the lock. Slipping the silver keyring into your pocket, you turned on your heel, your gaze sweeping over the vast open forest that stretched out before you. Viridian green leaves loomed over the earth, standing in stark contrast to the clear, cerulean blue sky that stretched across the horizon overhead. On the ground below, the occasional wildflower sprouted up and out of the earth, their soft petals shyly unfurling and fluttering in the warm summer breeze.

For such a lovely view, you never would have guessed that you would be able to afford a place like this for so cheap.

Then again, Elmwood Ridge wasn’t a particularly notable town. Best known for its countless acres of elm forests and the large lake that laid at its centre, the town had become something of a nature reserve unto itself, despite being anything but. It was a quiet, quaint region, somewhere you had always distantly dreamed of visiting, if only because of its peaceful atmosphere. You never thought that you would end up living there, though.

It had been a split second decision made on impulse, and looking back, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move you’d ever made, but you didn’t regret one bit. Your new house was two stories tall and built with lovely stone bricks that looked like they came right out of a fairytale. The triangular sloping roof hung just over the sides of the house to provide some shelter from the rain, and the second floor had two balconies—one in the front and the back. Needless to say, you were sold in a heartbeat. Not only was the house pretty, but so was the price tag. You vaguely remembered hearing something about complaints of noisy wolves in the forest, but you weren't deterred. A little noise never killed anyone, and you were more than happy to share your space with nature.

Hopping down the back steps, you gently tread across the soft grass, careful not to step on any flowers as you walked. After moving in two days ago, you had planned to take the day off to hike and learn all that you could about your new backyard. You would head into town tomorrow and look for a job then—right now, all you wanted to do was explore and appreciate your new home.

Gazing up at the rustling elm leaves one last time, you smiled to yourself before stepping out of your lawn and into the forest.

In the distance, a faint howl rang out across the trees.

Between stretches of chestnut wood, a flash of tawny brown and golden fur dashed across the earth, powerful paws pushing off the ground with each leap. Landing atop a fallen log, the wolf raised his head, his muzzle raised toward the sky as he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring.

Fresh. Clean. Warm. The faintest scent of flowers.

He exhaled, emerald eyes blinking as he scanned the open forest around him.

Carrying out routine morning patrols around the pack’s territory was one of the alpha’s many duties, but Clay still wasn’t quite used to it.

Stepping down from the log, he let his tongue hang out of his mouth, his ears flicking as he took in every sound. Somewhere above him, a bird flapped its wings, chirping as it took flight. Along the breeze, he could pick up the distant scent of deer coming from the south. His eyes flashed at the smell. He would have to report that to the pack when he returned—it had been a few days since they last had a large hunt. Sniffing one last time, he began weaving between the looming trunks, his entire body rapt with focus.

He had only been appointed as alpha a little less than a month ago, and although he had technically been taught the ropes, it took more than just a few lessons for a wolf to truly become alpha. He could still remember how the former alpha had pressed his nose to his side, nudging him onto the rock peak in front of his pack with an aging howl. He had been getting older, and everyone knew it—it was only a matter of time until a new leader was selected, but Clay never would have dreamt he would be the one who was chosen.

Only a few people were as surprised as he was, though. He was one of the larger wolves in the pack, and while he wasn’t the tallest in his human form—that title belonged to the young, curious Ranboo—he was by far the strongest, having led more than his fair share of hunts before. It was only natural that he ended up in his position, and he was welcomed into the upper ranks with open arms.

A glimmer of warmth washed over him at the memory, and he would have smiled if he wasn’t shifted. He had never felt such pride before, feeling everyone’s excited gazes on him as he howled up at the gleaming, full moon. The shouts that filled the starry night sky made his heart swell in his chest, and he just knew he was going to do his best to make everyone proud. He would protect them to the ends of the earth, if he had to.

Kicking away a stray branch, his eyes quickly flicked over his surroundings. He recognized this area, and he knew that he had almost completed a full circle around the pack’s perimeter, by now. There was only a tiny stretch left before he would return to the camp and fill everyone in. Raising his head, he let his jaw fall open to catch any aromas that travelled along the breeze.

All of a sudden, a new scent wafted over his nose, an unsettling sense of unfamiliarity striking deep within his core.

There was something in the woods—something that did not belong here.

In an instant, Clay’s lips were pulled back in a snark, his sharp canines bared as he sank his paws into the soil below. His claws latched onto the dirt, his grip firm and unwavering as he pressed himself closer to the ground, careful not to let his scent travel in the air.

They weren’t common, but every now and then, hunters would venture into the woods with their heads held high and guns drawn. Most of them came hunting for game, shooting down the occasional deer or elk to bring back to their own families. Clay didn’t have a problem with those hunters, but as for the ones who came in search of wolves?

Clay wasn’t sure he could be so lenient with those ones.

Prowling forward, he kept his haunches low, his tail brushing over the shrubbery as he took step after step toward the strange, new scent. Ever so slowly, he crept closer, his pupils dilated in focus. Suddenly, he stopped, freezing in place.

He could hear footsteps.

Inhaling deeply, he let his eyelids fall shut.

One, two, three...

His eyes shot wide open, and he whipped his head up, only to go stock still as a silhouette came into view.

It was a person, a regular person.

He blinked as he lifted his head, his expression growing neutral as he watched you crouch down to examine a small pile of stones stacked beside a tree, one that he vaguely remembered being made by Tommy and Tubbo when they went exploring a few weeks ago. There was no gun strapped to your body, no pack hanging off your hips as you rose back up to your feet. You didn’t seem to be a threat at all, and from the back, he couldn’t tell if you were even carrying a weapon.

Just then, you turned to the side, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

The world suddenly fell away, his surroundings melting into nothing more than a hazy blur as his eyes locked onto your face. His heart came to a screeching halt in his chest.

You were beautiful.

The light framing your lovely face made your cheeks seem all the more lively as you rose. He watched as you brushed your fingers delicately over the bark of a tree, your brilliant eyes meticulously tracing over the curve of every leaf as you walked past. Your feet never lingered in one place for long, constantly moving and skittering across the forest floor like a rippling stream. It was almost as though your every movement cast streaks of dappled sunlight everywhere you stepped, the marvelling spark flickering in your gaze making his head spin with wild abandon.

Clay felt something warm and tight curl against his insides, unmistakably soft and affectionate. It was almost hard to breathe with the way his lungs squeezed and shook behind his ribs. He hadn’t felt this feeling before, but he had heard enough stories to know exactly what it was.

His mate—you were his mate.

There wasn’t any one way to truly describe what a mating bond was, but the most commonly accepted one was that it was a connection that tied people’s souls together, uniting them in perfect harmony. Every werewolf had a mate, and most of the time, they would find their mate in another one of their kind. But right now, as Clay stood in the forest, his gaze glued to the most beautiful human he had ever laid eyes on, he knew that he wasn’t going to find his mate in some other shifter like everyone else had said he would.

Having a human for a mate was rare at best, and unheard of at worst. After all, not every human had a mate, and he had heard stories of shifters being rejected by their human mates. Some of the elders in the camp still refused to believe that having a human mate was even possible, but nearly all of the younger shifters had accepted it—embraced it, even. But never in his pack, at least, had someone learned that their mate was a human.

It looked like he was going to be the first.

For a few long moments, he simply stood there, watching you silently with wide eyes as you slowly made your way deeper down the path. A part of him wanted to chase after you, yearned to walk by your side for as long as his legs would let him. But as soon as he raised his paw, he quickly lowered it again, a pang of guilt shooting through him.

He couldn’t go up to you—not like this, and most certainly not now. He didn’t have nearly enough experience under his belt as an alpha yet, and bringing you to his world could just make everything even worse if he wasn’t careful about it. He swallowed, taking a single step back as you slowly slipped out of view, disappearing into the trees and carrying your lovely scent away with you.

Anxiety gnawed at the inside of his gut, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you would even return. Surely you must live around here to be hiking in these woods—maybe you would hike here again, if not even more often.

He paused, then nodded to himself before whipping around, his tail swishing behind him as he clenched his jaw.

Tomorrow. He would come back tomorrow.

A few feet deeper within the trees, the sound of a stick snapping shattered the forest’s silence.

Along the lightly-treaded path, you whirled, your head pointing toward the sharp sound. Pausing, you raised your head, your gaze darting to the forest canopy above. The sun peaked down at you between swaths of vibrant green, and you squinted, raising a hand to shield your eyes. The trees remained quiet around you, only whispering with the soft rustles of their leaves.

A moment passed in silence. A robin warbled.

You let out a long exhale and shook your head. Turning once more, you stepped over a small crack in the ground, humming as you walked further into the woods.

It was probably nothing.

Sapnap grunted as he dropped the pile of sticks onto the ground, the wood clattering at his feet in a heap. He scowled at the sight, resisting the urge to kick the pile down. He couldn’t believe Wilbur had actually tricked him into doing something as simple as collecting firewood. It wasn’t difficult or anything, but he was the beta, for crying out loud! He could have at least passed the buck to someone like Tommy, that brat.

“Sapnap.”

Sapnap blinked at the familiar voice, turning to find himself standing face to face with Clay. His dirty blond hair was disheveled atop his head, and his cheeks were flushed with heat. A smile tugged on his lips at the sight. “Oh, hey, Clay. Welcome back.” He squinted at the way Clay’s chest heaved, his breaths coming out shaky and uneven. “Um, you good, there? Did you run back here or somethi—”

“It happened,” Clay blurted.

Sapnap blinked, raising a single brow at him. “What happened?”

Clay swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I met my mate.”

Sapnap paused. “Oh. Oh.” A wide grin stretched across his face, and he reached over to clap a hand to Clay’s back. “That’s awesome, man! I’m guessing it happened on your patro—”

“My mate’s human,” Clay said suddenly.

Sapnap paused again. “Oh. Oh.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Clay’s shoulders went slack at his side as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his scalp. “I, um,” he said, his words coming out in a hazy rush. “I don’t think I’m ready to—” He stopped, feeling Sapnap’s patient gaze rest on him, then opened his mouth, again. “I can’t just reveal our world so soon. I’ve only been alpha for what?” He gestured vaguely. “A month? I’m not experienced enough, yet.” He slumped forward, a hollow, wistful look settling onto his features. “It would be too much for both of us.”

Sapnap nodded thoughtfully, understanding flooding his face. “It’s okay, Clay. Take your time.” He fell silent for a brief moment, then quietly added, “Did you reveal yourself or anything?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I was too surprised to even move.”

Sapnap’s lips quirked up into a tiny smile. “Then there’s no rush,” he said. “You’re allowed to build up your confidence first, dude. Your confidence as a wolf. As an alpha.” His eyes flashed with soft reassurance. “As a mate.”

Clay raised his head, blinking as Sapnap gently nudged his shoulder with his. “You can do this. Plus,” he added, his tone growing more lighthearted, “I’m your beta. You know I’ve got your back.”

The chuckle that escaped Clay’s lips was low and short, but he could already feel the tension seep out his shoulders like a leaking dam. “Thanks, Sap.”

Taking a step back, Sapnap hummed, offering him a lopsided smile. “Anytime.”

Clay turned on his heel, jerking his head toward the centre of the camp. “Well, I need to organize today’s hunt, but I’ll catch you later. I trust you’ll keep things under control while I’m gone.”

He nodded. “Of course—you know me.” With a short wave and a small grin, Clay began walking off in the opposite direction. “Oh, also,” Sapnap suddenly shouted after him, “don’t forget to grab something to eat before you go hunting today, yeah? I know you missed breakfast.”

Clay didn’t look behind him as he shot a thumbs up at Sapnap from behind his back, but Sapnap could already picture the way he would roll his eyes with a smile. Shaking his head, he turned back to the firewood scattered around his feet, a new glower creeping onto his face.

He was so getting back at Wilbur for this.

Every morning after, Clay dutifully woke up early and strolled deep into the woods, shifted into his wolf form as he scented the air and patrolled the area just as any good alpha would. But time and time again, that one sweet scent never seemed to return, almost as though it had vanished from the forest entirely. At times, he thought he caught the faintest whiff of it, but some further exploration would only reveal a small patch of flowers, never you.

Needless to say, his disappointment was palpable.

It had been a full week now, and Clay was running out of hope. Maybe he was wrong—maybe you wouldn’t ever come back. His heart ached at the thought.

He had been too hasty, wasn’t he?

Hanging his head, he whimpered to himself in the quiet forest, sniffing absentmindedly as he ambled about almost aimlessly. He still had a duty to fulfill, he knew, but he couldn’t ignore the empty feeling burrowing deeper and deeper into his chest.

But right then, just as he paced another few feet forward, he heard it.

A melody.

It was soft, the singing travelling down from the west in a distant murmur, or perhaps a hum. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he surely would have missed it. He didn’t know this song, didn’t recognize it one bit, but he could already tell that it was sweeter than any thrush’s song or any loon’s call. He felt his heart flip in his chest, and just like that, he knew.

In a flash, he was racing across the earth, his paws flying out beneath him in a blur as he ducked under branches and darted past deer, missing the way they startled at his sudden approach. The song was louder now, and he could smell it—smell you.

It was only a few seconds later that he came to a stop, his paws digging into the ground as his heart leapt into his throat.

Soft hair. Bright eyes. A dazzling grin.

You were back.

You had headphones on this time, he realized, and you were humming aloud to yourself, your feet most likely moving in time to the beat of whatever song you were listening to. You were a little off-key and occasionally stumbled over the refrain as it came around, but he found himself entranced nonetheless. Even when you were doing something as simple as humming, you were stunning.

Why come back today of all days? he distantly wondered to himself. What made today so different from any other day?

He wracked his mind as he felt the sun shine down on him gently, warming his back as he crouched down a little. He rarely kept track of the days—that was Sapnap’s job—but he knew that there hadn’t been any special events or holidays going on in the human world. Pressing his ears flat against his head, he scratched his paw at the ground in confusion. Just what made today so special?

That was when the realization slammed into him.

It had been a week since he last saw you.

Once a week—you must hike here once a week.

If he could smile in this form, he already knew that he would have the biggest, stupidest grin plastered to his face. He wanted to leap for joy and howl like there was no tomorrow, but he didn’t want to alert you of his presence just yet. Again, it had only been a week, and he was still far from being a worthy mate for you.

Once a week, he thought once more, his eyes glued to you as you skipped further down the trail and out of his sight. I can wait another week.

The wind sang in his ears as a gentle breeze brushed over his tawny fur, the forest murmuring a silent lullaby into his ear as he whirled back around. As much as he wanted to stay with you forever, he had a patrol to finish and a pack to defend. He let his eyelids flutter shut for the briefest of moments, your face engraved into the rosy crevices of his heart as your humming filled his ears once more.

He couldn’t wait to see you, again.

One week later, you grumbled to yourself as you stomped through the woods, complaining about your new job under your breath. Clay wished he could comfort you, but stayed put with his claws buried in the dirt.

Two weeks later, you watched with wide eyes as a doe and her fawn drank from a nearby stream. He made sure not to hunt those two down in particular later that week.

Three weeks later, you were snapping photo after photo with the camera hanging around your neck, your eyes absolutely brimming with curiosity. He thought you were prettier than any view the forest had to offer.

As one week stumbled into the next, the months began to pass in a blur. Summer collapsed into autumn as the leaves turned gorgeous shades of crimson red and golden orange before tumbling from the sky. Shortly after that, the forest was covered in a blanket of ivory white snow, leaving the branches bare and awaiting the return of spring. The snow soon melted into rain, and puddles littered the forest floor while flowers began to bud and bloom once more. In almost a whirlwind of seasons and waiting, summer rolled around once more, marking the first anniversary of your arrival in Elmwood Ridge.

With each passing season, Clay continued to watch you from afar with a tender gaze. Some days, he would listen to you hum as you trekked along while other times, he would only manage to catch the tiniest of glimpses of you between the trees. No matter how short the instance was, every second he got was well worth the wait, and Clay could feel his affection bloom like a new spring flower. As the trees grew larger, as did his confidence. Time was the best teacher the forest had to offer, and it didn’t take much longer for Clay to grow comfortable with his duty as the alpha of his pack. But despite his newfound strength, he still didn’t feel ready enough to approach you outright, to reveal himself to you as he was. Doubt swirled in his mind like a raging storm, eating away at him like a gnat digging through mud.

He was beginning to fear he may never be ready.

Lifting his head, he sniffed the air, the now familiar scent of his mate drifting across the new summer breeze. You were taking a new path today, he noted in an instant. Perhaps you were doing some exploring.

Padding through the trees, leaves crunched beneath his feet as he leapt over logs and puddles, following after your scent as it grew stronger and stronger. It only took a few moments for him to find you standing atop an elevated rock face, your head lifted as you gazed up at the light scattered between the tree leaves. Your face almost seemed to be glowing in the pale, morning sunshine, your eyes looking like two dewdrops as they curved into tiny crescents. Clay’s heart rattled in his chest, and he resisted the urge to howl to the heavens above.

You were lovely, his mate. If only he could work up the courage to properly tell you.

Basking in the sunlight, he watched as you took a few steps forward closer to the cliff’s edge, your eyes still trained on the sky above. It wasn’t a terribly deep fall, he knew, but the fall was most certainly far enough to hurt someone if they fell at the wrong angle. He narrowed his eyes as you stopped dangerously close to the edge, halting just a few inches from the drop. Surely the stone was strong enough to support your weight, even as old as it was, right?

Apparently not.

Clay saw the cliff crumble before you did.

Terror shot through his body like a bullet as he watched the rock face collapse under your shoes, your feet tumbling out beneath you. Your hands desperately reached for the cliff face, but he could tell from the way your scream cut through the forest’s silence like a sharpened blade that you weren't going to be able to grab it in time.

There was no time for him to think—his body moved first.

In one moment, he was standing with his mouth slack and his emerald eyes blown wide with horror. In the next, he was lunging across the rock face, his jaws wide open as he reached for the lower collar of your shirt. The moment he felt his nose brush against the back of your neck, he snapped his jaws shut, careful not to pierce your skin with his sharp canines as the cloth caught between his teeth. Your weight bounced beneath him once, and the gasp that escaped your lips made his head spin dizzily.

Close—you were so close, and your scent was intoxicating.

You turned your head ever so slightly, and he felt it the moment your eyes locked onto his. You were scared, he could tell, but as you took in the sight of the wolf holding onto you, you almost seemed to relax in his grip. Planting his paws firmly against the rocky earth, he tugged his jaw up and backwards, pulling you away from the cliff face and over even ground. Your hands scrambled to latch onto the cliff edge, helping to pull yourself up until finally, he let go of you, your now torn collar resting against the back of your neck.

Heaving a sigh of relief, you let yourself collapse against the rock face, lying on your back as you gasped for breath. Your chest felt tight like a wound-up spring, and adrenaline pumped through every vein in your body, yet you felt oddly calm. After a minute or two, you slowly pushed yourself forward on your arms until you were just barely slouching forward, looking over your shoulder. A few feet away from you, the wolf stood, his eyes trained intently on your face as you swallowed.

“Um,” you breathed, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Hello?”

He didn’t say anything in return, simply shuffling further away from you. He was giving you space, you realized after a brief moment, and you blinked as you scrambled to sit completely upright. His fur was a soft, golden brown, and you had half the mind to distantly think that you wanted to run your fingers through it. Something about him seemed comforting like that.

“Hi,” you whispered once you were seeing him eye-to-eye. “Ah, um, thank you for saving me.”

Maybe you were just imagining it, but you could have sworn his eyes widened in an almost human-like manner. He didn’t move from his spot a few feet away from you, and you swallowed. You thought you would be more scared than this, more terrified of the beast standing before you. But as you sat there, watching as he blinked at you, you felt as though you were anything but. An unfamiliar yet strangely comforting warmth curled around in the pit of your stomach as you tilted your head at the wolf.

He felt so... safe. So familiar, almost like you had met him before.

“Are—are you a nice wolf?” you asked after another moment, your voice faltering the tiniest bit. “I’d like to think you’re a nice wolf, since you just saved my life.”

Once again, you were greeted by silence, the only indication that he had heard you at all being the way his ears flicked. What am I doing? you suddenly thought, your mind running at a million miles a minute. I’m talking to a wolf—an animal. I’m not a Disney character.

This was weird—or at least it was supposed to be. Yet, as you stared at this wolf who simply stared back at you with these bright, stunning green eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that everything in this moment was just perfect. Like you had been waiting your entire life for this moment to happen.

“You’re really pretty,” you suddenly blurted. In an instant, you were slamming your palm over your mouth, your cheeks flooding with heat. “Oh my god, that was embarrassing,” you murmured, your voice coming out muffled. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage like a caged bird begging to be let out, and ever so slowly, you lowered your hands from your mouth, offering the wolf a shaky, sheepish smile. “Um, thank you, again,” you said gently, honestly. Leaning forward, you pressed your hands against the cool stone to balance yourself, your fingers digging into the rock as you spoke. “I don’t really know how you knew I was there or how you knew I was going to fall, but I really appreciate it.”

The wolf blinked at you once more, then took another step back, subtly dipping his head. Your smile widened at the sight. Pushing yourself upward, you rose to your feet, brushing off the dust from your frontside before standing upright, fidgeting almost nervously.

“I—I,” you stammered, suddenly feeling awkward, “I think I’m going to go home now, but...” You swallowed, raising your hand in a small wave as heat rose in your chest. “...thank you so much, again!”

Before the warmth in your heart could burst, you whipped around, sprinting away as fast as your legs could take you. You didn’t see the way the wolf practically crumbled into a ball on the ground, whimpering to himself as you disappeared out of sight.

Bolting down the hill and past the trees, branches blew past you in a blur as you dashed between the trunks and over patches of wildflowers. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears like a beating drum, and your chest felt oddly light. You couldn’t shake the memory of how intense that wolf’s gaze had been on yours, his eyes swirling with something that made your stomach churn and your mouth go dry.

He really was pretty.

Sapnap yawned as he stretched his arm behind his back and above his head, rolling his neck as the joint popped back into place with a satisfying crack. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in like this, but he did not regret it one bit. Clay had given him the okay, after all. One late morning wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Sapnap, you are not going to believe this.”

Sapnap yelped, whipping around with eyes as wide as saucers as he stumbled back a step. The drowsiness left his body in an instant, almost as though he had never been tired to begin with. Clay’s hand shot out to grab his arm, steadying him as he swallowed, relaxing once he realized who he was looking at.

“Holy crap, Clay,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his racing heart, “you scared me! I know you’ve gotten better at this whole stealth thing, but that was just straight up terrifyi—”

Clay’s grip on his arm tightened. “I saved them today,” he whispered.

Sapnap froze, and there was a beat of silence. “You did what, now?”

Just like that, Clay had flung his arms up and around his head, his fingers buried in his hair as he began to pace, his tone frantic and rushed. “There—there was this steeper area with this cliff but it was kind of hidden, and then it was breaking and I just knew something bad was going to happen, and I couldn’t just let that happen, so I moved without thinking and I was pulling them back and—”

A pair of hands suddenly grabbed onto his shoulders, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Breathe,” Sapnap instructed calmly. “You need to breathe, dude.” Clay opened his mouth, but Sapnap spoke before he could. “You are talking so quickly right now, and I can’t understand you when you talk like that.”

Clay closed his mouth, mulling over the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions steamrolling through his head. After a few moments, he finally spoke once more. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, suddenly sounding completely and utterly awestruck. “My mate actually stopped and thanked me. And called me pretty.”

Sapnap’s fingers loosened around Clay’s shoulders, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “Yeah?”

Clay sighed, sounding absolutely lovestruck. “Yeah.”

Pulling his arms back to cross them over his chest, Sapnap eyed him up and down, cocking his head. “So,” he began gently, “how are you feeling?” When Clay opened his mouth, Sapnap quickly added, “Slowly, please.”

Clay groaned, teasingly rolling his eyes before leaning back on his heels, rocking back and forth as he began to speak. “I only revealed myself as a wolf,” he said softly, “so I don’t know if they know about the mating bond yet. I don’t even know if humans can feel it like we can.”

He tilted his head back, gazing up at the cerulean blue sky. “But there’s something about the way we looked at each other that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, humans can feel it,” he whispered, sounding breathless all at once. “Call it a gut feeling, I guess. I don’t know.” He cast a glance over at Sapnap, his eyebrows furrowed. “Do I sound crazy?”

A thoughtful look flickered across Sapnap’s face. Then, he grinned. “A little bit, yeah.”

Clay sighed, something he noticed he had been doing a lot more, lately. “I just…” He swallowed. “I just don’t want something like that to happen ever, ever again.”

Suddenly, he fell quiet, his lips parting as the wheels in his head began to turn. Sapnap watched as a tiny spark came to life within his focused gaze, small but oh-so vibrant.

“You got an idea there?” he prompted after a few seconds of silence.

Clay blinked once. Twice. Then, a smile stretched across his face—a smile as bright as the full moon.

“Something like that.”

It was probably a dumb idea for you to return to the forest for your weekly hike as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t quite quench the curiosity that bubbled up inside you every time you thought about the wolf who had saved you. His gaze had been fiery, yet compassionate, and he had been purposely so gentle when tugging you away from the cliff. You weren't a fool—you knew how powerful a wolf could be. Then why did he treat you so kindly?

You had to find out.

Marching through the brush and shrubbery, you whipped your head this way and that, scanning every strip of forest you could lay your eyes on. Wolves were good at hiding, you knew that. After all, if they weren’t as stealthy as they were, they would never be able to catch a meal. But you had been hiking for almost an hour now, and you still hadn’t seen a single glimpse of the wolf. You couldn’t say you were completely surprised, since it wasn’t like you knew every inch of the forest, but you were frustrated to admit that you were at least a little disappointed. Maybe this was a lost cause.

But then, you heard it.

The sound of a stick snapping.

Freezing, you paused, turning as you glanced to the sides. Nothing out of the ordinary stood among the bushes. You stopped again, then pursed your lips.

No, something was there.

A tender curiosity sparked between your lungs, but it was coated in a thin layer of reluctance. Sucking in a deep breath, you whipped around, squinting at the seemingly empty trees around you as you opened your mouth.

“Wolf?” you called out slowly into the quiet. “Is that you?”

At first, all was quiet, and you held your breath. The leaves rustled around you almost tauntingly, and you distantly heard the caw of a crow. You were just about to give up and go home when a flash of gold caught your eye.

Standing motionless a single yard away was a wolf—your wolf.

A grin stretched across your face, joy surging through your body as you carefully took a few steps forward. Oh, this was definitely a dumb idea, but you was more than brave enough to keep going.

“Hi, there.” You shuffled your feet, a tentative look passing over your face. “You’re, um—” You gulped. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Clay’s eyes went wide, and he took a step back. No! he thought, hoping you would be able to read his expression, even as a wolf. Never. Not in a million years.

You stared at him for a long moment, blinking slowly as you scanned his face up and down. Then, your lips quirked up into the tiniest of smiles.

“No,” you murmured in the softest of voices, and he felt his heart melt in his chest. “If you were going to do something, you would have done it by now, wouldn’t you?”

Clay nearly sank in relief, and he barked. You raised a brow at the sound, furrowing your brows slightly. “Do you want me to keep you company?” you asked, beginning to walk up to him. “Is that what you’re doing?”

You had only made it a few steps when he suddenly barked again, taking a step toward you. In an instant, you froze, watching with bated breath as he curled around to your other side and gently nudged at your leg with his nose. You shot him a curious glance, stumbling forward the tiniest bit. “Hey,” you said, “what are you...?”

You trailed off, a cut rock face suddenly catching your attention from the corner of your eye. The stony grey wall was nearly perpendicular to the ground and looked almost eerily similar to the one you had nearly fallen down the week prior. Just like that, it clicked.

There was another small cliff right there. He was trying to keep you away from it.

“Oh,” you breathed, your lips splitting into an even wider grin as you made sure to steer away from the short cliff, “you don’t want me falling again, do you?”

He snorted, and you blinked at him. That sounded far more human this time—almost too human. It almost reminded you of a dog, if anything. A triumphant smile slowly crept onto your face, and with your head held high, you turned on your heel, marching onward and away from the rock face.

“Well, wolf,” you said, a teasing arrogance seeping into your tone as you glanced over your shoulder at him, “I promise you that I’ll be much safer this time arou—woah!”

The toe of your shoe caught on a protruding stone, and with a sharp yelp, you stumbled forward, gravity pulling you downward with a harsh pull. With a flail of your arms, you only just barely caught your balance as your hand shot out to grab onto a tree and steady yourself. Your heart flipped in your chest as you planted your feet firmly against the ground, the soles of your shoes pressed flatly against the earth as your fingers curled into the bark. Your chest heaved with surprise as you stood upright, turning to look over your shoulder at the wolf. He blinked at you, and while you knew wolves couldn’t quite smile, something about his gaze almost seemed cocky—like he was laughing at you. Heat crept up your neck and onto your face, your cheeks bursting with warmth.

“Y-You did not see that,” you sputtered, coughing into your sleeve as you brushed off your pants dismissively.

Almost as if to spare you some embarrassment, he turned his head away from you, although you could see his eyes glance your way every few seconds. Pouting, you huffed, whirling on your feet as you continued to trudge down the path. Soon enough, the sound of soft footsteps trailed after you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that he would follow you even if you weren't looking.

That night, you dreamt of whispering trees and a pair of bright, viridian green eyes.

What had once been a weekly ritual of watching from afar soon turned into an amicable companionship between human and wolf. You weren't afraid as you walked into the woods to see a familiar pair of eyes waiting for you, your eagerness to see him only growing with each passing week. Clay himself could hardly contain his excitement. Actually walking beside you was so much better than simply watching from the woods, hidden by the trees. He loved your company and absolutely basked in your presence, even if you sent his heart into an absolute frenzy.

“Sometimes,” you said aloud one day, “I really do think you can understand me.”

Clay stiffened, praying you wouldn’t notice the way his ears pressed flat against his head as he turned to look at you. You sat on a tree stump while he padded atop the fallen trunk it sat beside, your gleaming gaze slowly blinking at him as he silently circled around you.

“I think it’s got something to do with the way you react to some of the things I say,” you murmured. You watched the way his tail flicked behind him, the soft fur brushing gently against the low-growing plants. A second later, you sighed, waving your hand. “Ah, I’m probably just imagining things.”

Clay nearly heaved a sigh of relief, continuing to pace. You would say surprising things like that every once in a while, and it would send his heart racing. Well, you usually only said one absurd thing per week, so you probably weren’t going to say another thing like that toda—

“Can I pet you?”

His paws came to a halt. Perhaps he thought too soon.

Before he could even properly process what you had said, You were backpedaling, shaking your head with an apologetic look. “Agh, that’s a terrible question. You’re a wolf, not a dog. There’s no way you wou—”

All of a sudden, he was crawling up to you, jutting his forehead toward your hand. His muzzle was clamped shut as his eyes bore into yours, and you gaped at him, the realization beginning to dawn on you.

“Wait,” you breathed in disbelief, “you’re actually going to let me?”

He didn’t move, lowering his eyes to the ground almost shyly as his ears curled toward you. Slowly, you raised your arm with a shaky hand and reached forward, letting your fingers gently brush over his tawny fur with a feather-light touch. You nearly gasped at the feeling, not noticing the way his legs trembled beneath him.

“Wolf,” you whispered after a few seconds, “you’re really soft.”

Clay nearly combusted on the spot. Perfect—everything about you was just perfect.

With your hand buried in his soft fur and the summer breeze ruffling your hair, You smiled, sighing with warmth lighting up your heart as the wolf at your feet melted beneath your touch.

Sapnap tapped his foot impatiently, squinting up at the glaring sun. George slept in, again. He was kind of used to it now, but even though he wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was more than just a little ticked off.

“My mate pet me today.”

Sapnap tensed for a split second, turning to see Clay staring at him with wide eyes. Relaxing once more, he stared at him for a long, long moment before speaking. He really needed to start giving him some sort of heads up at this point.

“Dude,” he said, “I know that the last time you asked me if you sounded crazy, I said a little bit, but I feel like I might have to change my answer.”

Clay shot him a glare, and he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching in amusement. “Sapnap,” he said bluntly, “you act like you don’t talk about Karl and Alex like this.”

Sapnap looked taken aback for a moment, raising a finger, then lowering it with a defeated look. “Touché.”

As Clay walked off with his head held high and a bounce in his step, Sapnap chuckled, watching him leave with a small smile. He recognized the gleam in his eyes, the rosy hue of his cheeks.

Love—Clay really was in love, wasn’t he?

“I’ve been thinking,” you said one day, a few months later.

Clay perked up at the sound of your voice from where he lay at your feet, soaking in the first few rays of sun. It had been well over a year since he had first laid eyes on you now, and a little over a few months since you began walking together. It was only a matter of time until the leaves would turn golden brown once more as autumn descended upon them.

“I dunno,” you murmured, knocking your legs back against the stone you sat on. “I feel like I should give you a name instead of just calling you wolf all the time.” You flashed him a shy grin, your gaze darting this way and that. “It feels kind of awkward, you know?”

He cocked his head. A name? Chances were you probably weren't going to guess his actual name. He supposed he wouldn’t mind a nickname. Then again, he didn’t think he would mind anything that you might do. Lowering himself closer to the ground, he let out a quiet bark of approval.

Your lips twitched the tiniest bit at the sound, and you hummed, drumming your fingers against your thigh. “How do you feel about... Aaron?”

His emerald eyes flashed as he took a step back, ducking his head the slightest bit. Your lips pursed into a small pout, and you leaned down to rest your chin on your hand. “Alright,” you murmured, “not Aaron, then.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a second. “Roy?”

Clay didn’t even have to think about it for more than a second before he was whimpering, pressing his head to his paws as he dropped his haunches close to the ground. You snorted at his obvious disapproval, tapping the toes of your shoes together with a pensive look.

“Okay,” you said slowly, drawing out the vowel sound, “maybe we should try some less... human-sounding names.” You tilted your head, letting your gaze trail up the tree trunks and up at the sky above. The sun wasn’t shining directly into your eyes this time, and you blinked with surprise to see a puff of white fluff blocking out the light.

“What about,” you offered with a hum, “Cloud?”

You glanced down again, only to see the wolf staring back at you blankly. You couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes, but you had a feeling he wasn’t quite satisfied with this one, either. Lowering your chin, you puffed your cheeks, glancing this way and that across the forest around you. You couldn’t just call him something like Leaf, or Sky—those would be too obvious, too plain for a wolf as lovely as him.

Sighing, you let your eyelids flutter shut, letting the sun wash over your cheeks and warming your skin. He was... special, even if you knew you were biased in your opinion. There was some special quality about him, something that made your chest swell and your heart skip a beat, almost as if he came straight out of a—

“Dream,” you whispered at last.

Clay’s ears perked up at the new name, and he lifted his head, flicking his ears at you. Maybe it was the name itself, maybe it was the way you said it, or maybe it was just you, but something about it just felt right. He barked once, lifting his tail as he stepped toward you.

You blinked at the sight, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Dream?” you repeated. “You like the sound of Dream?”

He barked again, leaping up onto his hind legs for a moment. You grinned, giggling at the sight of such a large wolf acting almost like a dog around you. “Alright,” you murmured, reaching your hand out toward him, “Dream it is.”

Leaning closer to you, he sank into your touch as you rubbed your hand over his head, scratching behind his ears as he let out a soft whine from the back of his throat. Your eyes softened, and you curled your knees a little closer to your chest, resting your chin on them.

“It probably doesn’t matter to you since you’re a wolf and all,” you said softly, your voice almost sounding shy in the quiet of the morning, “but my name is [Y/N].”

Clay felt a tender warmth blossom in the cracks beneath his chest, heat unfurling from the depths of his soul as something inside him swelled beyond belief. Your hand continued stroking his fur all the while, not at all noticing the way he pressed his head a little closer into your soothing touch, yearning and longing for more.

“[Y/N],” his heart sang, shooting from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “[Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N].”

Had a name ever sounded as beautiful as yours?

Sapnap was going to wring Skeppy’s neck. Skipping out on a morning meeting was one thing, but skipping it to hang out with your mate? Not even he did that.

“[Y/N].”

Sapnap didn’t bother flinching as he turned to see Clay standing in front of him, panting like his life depended on it. This was far from the first time this had happened, and he was sure it most certainly would not be the last. “What?”

Clay shook his head, half-looking like he was about to collapse on the spot. “My mate’s name is [Y/N].”

Sapnap blinked, then his lips curled up into a smile. “Congrats for learning what it is, man,” he said honestly, patting Clay’s shoulder with his free hand. “That’s fantastic, really. You’re making progress.”

Clay swallowed, and he reached up to drag a hand down his face before letting it drop loosely at his side. “Sapnap,” he said slowly, his voice sounding quiet and raw, “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Sapnap’s eyebrows knit together, confusion rippling across his features. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You can’t keep visiting?” Something uncomfortable and cold tugged at the back of his mind. “There’s no way you’re just gonna give up like that, are you?”

Clay’s jaw dropped. “What? No! I mean that...” He paused, squeezing his fist for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t think I can keep showing up in only my wolf form.”

The cogs in Sapnap’s whirred to life as he took in his friend’s clenched jaw. Then, his eyes went wide. “Are you saying...?”

Clay nodded, pursing his lips as he swallowed thickly. “I’m going to reveal who I am.”

His eyes flashed with determination.

“Who I really am.”

You hummed as you twisted the key in the hole, the back door locking shut with a click you had grown used to hearing every week for the past year and a half, now. Whirling around, you could already feel the smile start to spread across your face as you leapt off the porch and ran toward the well-worn path, the forest beckoning you forward with a distant howl. You didn’t remember when exactly your weekly hikes grew to become your favourite part of the week, but you couldn’t imagine life without them, anymore.

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest swelled at the fresh air rushing into your lungs, excitement flickering through your body with every step you took. You couldn’t wait to see Dream again, as strange as it may sound. He had grown to be a greater comfort than you would have ever imagined, even if he was just a wolf. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but you knew your feelings were true—you couldn’t deny the warmth he made you feel.

Whipping around a tree trunk, you felt your heart skip a beat. You already knew Dream would be waiting for you at your rock—the one he had saved you from all those weeks ago. It had become a sort of meeting spot for them, and every week without fail, he would appear there, no matter how early or late you were.

As the shrubbery gave way to a clean, dirt trail, you lifted your head, squinting your eyes. You recognized this part of the forest, and you knew that you were getting closer. Just then, you saw it—the familiar streak of grey stone slanting up from the earth in a small cliff face. Usually, Dream would sit at the cliff base, his ears already pointed toward you. But today, your brows furrowed when you didn’t see a pair of ears facing you, but a head of hair.

Someone else was at your rock.

Slowing your pace to a walk, you paused for a moment, eyeing the figure sitting at your usual meeting spot. It was a man, you realized, and he was facing away from you. He wore a simple white shirt with jeans, and his hair was a shade of dirty blond with streaks of gold. Even if only from the back, it looked almost oddly familiar gleaming underneath the morning sun.

Taking a tentative step forward, you curled your fingers into your palm. “Hello?” you called hesitantly.

The man startled for a moment, then turned toward you, his face coming into view. As his gaze locked onto yours, he opened his mouth and uttered two simple words.

“Hi, [Y/N].”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat.

His voice was soft, gently wrapping around you like a soothing blanket. Your gaze only briefly raked over the comforting smile gracing his lips, instead focusing on the gleam in his eyes that danced with something warm and inviting.

His eyes were green—a shade of green that you had grown to know and adore.

No, you thought, your heart trembling in your chest. He couldn’t possibly be...

You took another step forward, closing the space between them by another few inches. With your eyebrows knitting together, your voice dropped to a small, curious whisper. “Dream?”

He shot you a crooked grin, chuckling softly. “That’s my name—or at least the one you gave me.” Leaning forward, he rose to his feet, the sun casting a bright streak of light across his cheeks. “My real name is Clay.”

All of a sudden, you felt as though all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. “Clay,” you repeated, your mind slowly growing murky with confusion, “but you’re also Dream. How...?”

A sheepish look skittered across his face, and he ducked his head. The way he lowered his chin was familiar, looking almost far too like a certain wolf you knew. “I—I guess you could say I live in two worlds with two forms,” he began. “Sometimes I’m a wolf, sometimes I’m a human.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you didn’t miss the way his shoulders remained tense. “You already know one of them, but I didn’t want to keep hiding this form from you, so...” He gestured to himself with a bashful look. “...here I am.”

You blinked at him slowly, the muddled fog in your head slowly giving way to a strikingly warm clarity. But before the clouds could fully part, your lips began to move.

“You’re still pretty,” you blurted, your eyes going wide as soon as the words left your mouth.

In a flash, Clay’s cheeks flushed crimson, a haze of rosy pink dusting his freckles. “H-Huh?”

Waving your hands in front of you, you took a step back, embarrassment shooting up your spine. “I-I mean to say that you’re still pretty as a human! Because you’re pretty in both of your forms!” You stiffened, exasperation soaking your features as your knees buckled. “Wait, no, oh no, that’s also embarrassing... wait, please, um—”

Suddenly, he began to laugh. You fell quiet as you watched Clay clutch at his stomach, his lips split into a wide grin as peals of laughter tumbled from his lips. A familiar pit of warmth flared up in your stomach, one you had felt standing here with Dream so many times before.

He really was Dream, wasn’t he?

As his chuckles finally died down into silence, he stood upright once more, wiping a barely there tear from his eye. “I’m sorry for laughing,” he managed with an apologetic smile. “You must be confused about, well, everything.”

You offered him an honest, lopsided grin. “A little.”

His smile slowly melted from his features, and he cleared his throat as he turned to face you head-on. “Well, this is probably going to sound weird, but you and I...” He swallowed, his gaze flashing. “We’re mates.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise. Something in your chest slowly expanded. “Mates?” you repeated softly.

He nodded, his expression firm yet hesitant. “Yes, mates. It means that in one way or another, our souls are connected.” Inhaling deeply, he screwed his eyes shut before continuing. “It’s a lot to take in, I know, but I just want you to know that you don’t have to accept the mating bond.” His voice was trembling now, growing quieter by the second as he squeezed his hands into fists at his side. “You don’t owe me anything. I know this must be scary for you, and the last thing I want is for you to feel pressured because of m—”

“I’m not afraid.”

Clay’s eyes shot wide open, and he raised his head, shock etched into his features. “You aren’t?” he whispered.

The smile on your face was open and kind, and you shook your head. “No,” you murmured, sincerity lacing your every word. “Not at all. Dream, Clay... no matter what your name is, you’re still you, and I know you.” You took another step forward, your eyes never leaving his. There was hardly any space between them now, and Clay could feel his shoulders begin to shake with the sheer gravity of the moment. “I can’t explain it, but I just know I do.”

He swallowed, a whirlwind of anxiety and affection brewing just beneath the surface of his skin. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know I’m just a stranger to you.”

You shook your head, again. “You’re not,” you said quietly. “Not to me.”

Before he could even register what was happening, you were reaching for his hand, clasping your palms around his fingers and holding them gently. His heart flipped in his chest at the feeling of your skin against his, and something stung at the back of his eyes.

You were so warm.

“I want to do this,” you whispered, just for him to hear and him alone, “I promise. I—” You gulped, your gaze remaining steady. “I might not know anything about your world yet, but I want to learn.”

You squeezed his hand. “I want to learn more about you.”

Clay sucked in a ragged breath. With shaky fingers and a gentle touch, he pressed his other hand to the back of yours, squeezing back ever so slightly. “I want to learn more about you, too.”

The smile you flashed him easily outshone the sun and every star that scattered across the night sky, and for a moment, he thought his heart had stopped in his chest.

“I’m glad,” you said, your eyes gleaming with delight. “I think we’ll have plenty of time to do that on our hike.”

Right then, a breeze came drifting past, the distant scent of rain filling the air. The trees murmured with rustling leaves and flapping wings as two birds landed on a hanging branch above, gazing down at the two silhouettes standing at the base of the rock face. Just for a moment, or maybe even two, the entire forest went still.

And unbeknownst to you and Clay, right between your feet, a flower began to bloom.

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docholligay · 2 years

Note

Besides the ethics I’ve always considered fox hunting such bizarre overkill. Tons of guys with horses and guns plus packs of dogs vs….a fox. Boar hunting I get the hype, as it’s huge and could easily kill you dead but a fox?

We were talking about this the other night at Shabbat, how a lot of my approach to winning, to hunting, all of that, is: Can I be proud of this?

I am very much not anti-hunting. Before my wife came along, who enjoys it so much more than I do* I used to hunt every year because for relatively cheap, you could get a lot a lot of meat. We hunt every year. We usually get at least one deer. I am very much into hunting, and i would argue with anyone who eats meet that it's largely more ethical than most of the meat you can buy in a store. I'm not even opposed to trophy hunting as long as you ALSO intend to eat it. The biggest most majestic rack elk is going to be old and is going to taste like shit, but if you're devoted, I think that is fine.

But.

I can't stand WASTE. And so I am opposed largely to what I would call 'sport hunting' where there's no fucking point or purpose other than to kill something. You can even enjoy killing shit, but I want you to USE it. That's what I've always told Jill, is she can hunt anything she likes, but we're eating it, so choose your life choose your choices. I think she's going to try for coyote this year because I Want A Coat, and so...we're going to eat coyote. LONG COOKING LOTS OF SPICES, it'll be fine, we'll all live.

That's where fox hunting and I part ways. If you're fox hunting with dogs, as I understand they tear it up after you kill it so you can't even make hats or whatever. Like you said, it just seems like insane overkill to me, and I don't understand it.

back to things I can be proud of, this is why I scoff at the Southern styles of hunting which often include baiting. I come from the West, which does stalk hunting, which takes much more skill and patience than leaving some fucking corn out for deer. That's not hunting, that's a harvest. And like, my wife puts in for the Prairie Reserve Buffalo Harvest every year, because we want buffalo, but they call it a harvest for a reason: Those things are half tame**. It's like sneaking up on a cow. Jill would never be like, 'I AM A GREAT HUNTER WHO HUNTED THIS." as opposed to a wild sheep which is just, my god, so fucking difficult. Anyway, if you bait something with corn and feel like a proud hunter I am gonna laugh at you, and i feel the same way about the incredible overkill that is fox hunting.

The whole thing just seems so incredibly stupid to me. If I were going to go to all the trouble to kill some foxes, you bet your ASS I am going to shoot it, and shoot it as carefully as fucking possible so i can use the pelt. We've talked about getting into muskrat trapping because they have great coats. I love fur. I am here for all of this, and I would be proud of fur I personally had worked to get.

But yeah it's such a fucking stupid thing, and more importantly its WASTEFUL. I am happy to merely roll my eyes at something stupid, but its such a waste.

*Not a "poor animals :''(" but "oh my god sitting still and being quiet for hours I want to die"

**The NPR buffalo, not all buffalo

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whywishesarehorses · 4 years

Text

A Mustang Crisis Looms in the West

With too many animals on public lands and too many on the public’s hands, the federal wild horse management program is short of money and palatable solutions.

By Dave Philipps Published March 22, 2020

CHALLIS, Idaho — Dawn broke over the peaks of the Lost River Range, revealing a chase in the wide open valley below. Seven wild horses crashed through the sage, dark manes billowing in the golden light, pursued by a government contractor in a glossy helicopter that dodged left and right like a mechanical Border collie, driving the band forward into a hidden corral.

Within hours, the captured mustangs had been sorted, loaded onto trucks to be stamped with an identification number and sent to the Bureau of Land Management’s wild horse storage system. And the helicopter was back out hounding the hills for more.

All over the West, similar scenes have played out as the federal government fights to control the number of wild horses roaming public lands. Managers say they need to keep the herds down so they don’t destroy delicate native species habitat and threaten the livelihoods of ranchers.

But in recent years, the Bureau of Land Management has been losing that fight on two fronts: It hasn’t been able to round up nearly enough horses to limit the wild population. And it doesn’t know what to do with the ones it has managed to capture.

The roundup operation itself is strikingly efficient — a helicopter and a few workers in jean jackets can catch scores of mustangs in a day. The bureau rounded up 7,300 in 2019.

But once they are caught, they have to be fed and cared for. And the costs and frictions of having so many animals on the government’s hands — 49,000 at last count — have pushed the whole wild horse program toward collapse.

The rented pastures and feed lots where they are kept now devour more than two-thirds of the program’s budget, leaving little money for anything else, including looking for ways to get the bureau out of its current fix.

Low on cash, the bureau cut roundups drastically in recent years. But officials acknowledge that the move just made matters worse, by allowing the population on the range to grow rapidly. There are now about 100,000 wild horses and burros on public lands — more than at any time since the days of the Old West. The government reckons the land can sustain only about 27,000.

Bureau officials warn that the mustang herds are a looming catastrophe for the land, and there is no cheap or obvious solution. Capturing all the excess horses and caring for them in storage for the rest of their lives could cost up to $3 billion. Doing nothing may prove costly, too.

“If we don’t get this controlled, it’s just going to get worse,” said Alan Shepherd, the on-range branch chief for the wild horse program. Mustangs have already destroyed fragile desert springs in some places, and the birds, snakes and butterflies that depend on them, he said: “We are going to get to the point where the public lands are going to be almost unusable by anything.”

Mr. Shepherd started his career 30 years ago working on an emergency roundup on the Nellis Air Force Base missile test range in southern Nevada, where drought and overpopulation killed thousands of mustangs.

Now, near the end of his career, he worries that more herds are headed for a similar collapse.

Wild horse welfare groups argue that the crisis is largely invented. They say the government sets its population targets artificially low to justify mass removals that serve the interests of cattle ranchers and distract from other public land policies that are far more damaging.

“It’s a bait and switch,” said Suzanne Roy, director of the American Wild Horse Campaign, a group that has lobbied against roundups. “They say wild horses are an existential threat; meanwhile, they are loosening regulation on energy extraction. We do agree that roundups are creating a crisis in management, but the claims of overpopulation and horses starving are just not borne out by on-the-ground observations. Generally, the horses are doing pretty good.”

Crisis or no crisis, the number of horses on the range has risen into uncharted territory. Mr. Shepherd estimated that while 7,300 horses were captured in 2019, 17,000 foals were born. “We’re not even keeping at status quo,” he said.

In the early frontier days, wild horses in the West were too numerous to count. Explorers saw herds running on the Great Plains, likening the sight to the roll of waves in the ocean. On early maps, vast areas were labeled simply as “wild horse desert.” Later, as the region was settled, the herds were hunted down. Many were shipped east to pull city streetcars in places like Manhattan. Others were slaughtered for dog food and fertilizer. By the 1960s, only a few thousand mustangs were left.

Congress granted federal protection in 1971 to the remaining herds, which were nearly all on Bureau of Land Management land. With few predators and no hunters to cull them, the herds began to rebound, and land managers realized in the 1980s that they were quickly outgrowing the patchwork of public land allotted to them. That is when the helicopter roundups began.

At first, the program appeared sustainable. The bureau publicized an adoption program that found homes for captured horses, and the wild population stayed relatively constant. But news reports in the 1990s revealed that most of the “adopted” horses were actually going to slaughter, often while bureau employees profited. Regulations were tightened, and a backlog of unwanted horses began to build up on rented pastures in the Midwest.

Some conservative lawmakers from rural districts have pushed the bureau to euthanize excess horses or sell them for slaughter, but those steps remain widely unpopular and have not gained traction in Congress.

The bureau has told lawmakers repeatedly that it could create a sustainable program if Congress budgeted enough money to reduce the wild population to 27,000. Three times in the past 30 years, Congress has done so. Each time, though, the efforts were tripped up by dizzying costs and lawsuits from animal welfare groups.

Now the bureau is asking again. William Perry Pendley, its acting director, is a longtime conservative activist and lawyer who sued the bureau a number of times on behalf of ranchers before entering the administration. In an interview, he said he favors a proposal to remove more than 70,000 horses from the range over five years.

“Right now, it’s the ‘Sorcerer’s Apprentice,’” he said. “We’re carrying water and not getting anywhere.”

The bureau is in talks to open two huge feedlots to hold thousands of horses. But it is unclear if Congress is willing to spend billions to store unwanted horses, especially if an economic downturn drains public funds. Bureau staff say privately that they expect the population on the range to continue to grow toward disaster.

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. More than a decade ago, government auditors warned that the cost of storing captured horses would “overwhelm the program.” A 2013 report by the National Academy of Sciences urged the bureau to shift away from roundups and start using readily available and inexpensive fertility control drugs, which are typically administered by dart gun annually in the field.

Bureau leaders acknowledged the warnings and promised to embrace fertility control drugs, but their use actually declined in the years after the report. Less than 1 percent of the program’s current budget is spent on them.

Nearly all of the fertility control now happening on wild horse ranges is done by local volunteers, often retirees, who have learned to wield dart guns in the field.

That includes Andrea Macki, a visual artist who has been darting horses in the Challis herd for more than five years. She says the fertility control treatments have slowed reproduction rates by half, and could do more.

“It’s the obvious solution,” she said as she squinted through the dawn light to watch the helicopter rounding up horses she knew. “I wish the B.L.M. would invest in it, instead of all this.”

Bureau officials say that darting tens of thousands of horses in the field each year is not practical, and would take years to shrink the herds as much as a roundup can in a few days. Congress approved a $21 million increase in the wild horse program’s budget for this year, with the stipulation that the money would be released only when the bureau submitted a five-year plan that includes increases in both roundups and fertility control.

The bureau has also taken steps to dispose of captured horses, including deals that may be sending horses quietly to slaughter. It has ramped up sales of horses it deems unadoptable, charging $25 a head. In 2019 it sold 1,967 that way, often by the truckload in bulk sales; officials have refused to say who the buyers were.

Mr. Shepherd say the bureau tries to screen out slaughter buyers, but acknowledged that it does nothing to monitor the fate of horses after sale.

The bureau also created a program that offers $1,000 to anyone willing to adopt a horse.

Together, the sales and adoptions put about 7,000 horses into private hands last year, not enough even to keep pace with roundups, let alone draw down the number now warehoused.

On the edge of the wild horse range in Challis in central Idaho, Jackie Ingram, a rancher, has shared 168,700 acres of public land with the mustang herds for 46 years. Each spring her family drives hundreds of Black Angus cattle up a steep road through Spar Canyon to graze the high, windswept hills on Bureau of Land Management land.

In some years, she said, the wild horses left so little grass to eat that other wildlife disappeared, and her family had to cut back their cattle herd.

“We like the horses, but we also want to protect the land,” she said. “Every time they do a roundup, we’re happy. If the horses get to be too numerous, it affects the sage grouse, the elk, the antelope and us. All of us depend on the grass.”

#long post #blm mustang #mustang horse #horse news #equestrian #equine

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mlmxreader · 4 years

Text

Take Me To The Bottom | Arthur Morgan

Summary; Arthur has some time to think while out with you.

notes; gender neutral reader, drinking, SONG FIC!!

Out of the way of civilization, somewhere up near the snowy mountains but now quite that far, the stars glittered like bubbles in a glass of champagne, the moon was high and silver as it grinned, and the sky was a perfectly dark navy canvas to show it all off; coyotes and foxes yapped and barked as they chased rabbits in the dark, wild horses snored softly from their spot nearby. The only trace of any human presence was the tent that had been pitched by the fire, and the smell of the wood burning; it was just you and Arthur, you were supposed to be out hunting for bigger game like moose and elk in order to feed the gang, but it was getting late, and you both needed to rest.

But, even then, Arthur felt like he was on top of the world when he was with you, sharing a bottle of cheap red wine he managed to get from the shop in one of the towns you had passed through on the way; he shook his head as he watched you dancing around the fire, singing along to some old song that he was sure he knew but couldn't quite think about.

“Come dance with me, Morgan,” your voice was so sweet as you offered him your hand, grinning. “Come on, we're out here all alone... no one's gonna see you.”

Arthur shook his head again, slowly and steadily rising to his feet as he grumbled and looked at you with a fond but hidden smile, bitten back between his teeth. “Now, you know I don't dance.”

“Please?” You softly begged, and when Arthur pulled you in close and allowed you to lead the way, swaying from side to side around the fire, he knew he was done for.

You had pulled him in far too much, you had pulled at his heart strings and tied them around your own; he thought for a moment that your love was like the Mississippi River - seemingly never ending, seemingly having no limits to its depths and how far it could stretch before becoming something else.

Yours hands were so soft as you laid one on the side of Arthur's neck, the other resting on his shoulder as you smiled; if you were a preacher, Arthur was sure to be a new believer.

Arthur wanted you to hold him down and to fill him up with water until he drowned, he wanted to give you his soul as well as his heart; you just had to show him the bottom of the river.

“Kiss me,” Arthur almost demanded, his voice a soft rumble of thunder, and when you leaned up to press your lips against his sweetly, he could feel his lungs filling up with water; all he could do was smile as you cupped his subbled cheeks softly, taking his last breaths away.

He felt like he was done, he had almost everything he wanted in life, and as the effects of the kiss slowly and steadily washed over him, all he could do was pull you in for another; his arms circling around your waist tightly.

“What's got you so affectionate, cowboy?” You asked softly, your breath ghosting his lips like the licks of river water on the bank during a windy day; your eyes were filled with curiosity as you hummed quietly and traced the scars on his chin.

Arthur could only shrug, he could never put it into words how you made him feel, he wasn't smart like Lenny or Hosea, he wasn't smart enough to tell you properly that your love was like the Mississippi River and that he wanted you to drag him to the bottom; he let out a few grumbles, cursing softly beneath his breath as he avoided the way your eyes looked, the sparks from the flickering fire sparkling in them. Arthur could only clench his jaw tightly. “Nothin’, don't worry about it.”

“Tell me,” you pleaded. “C'mon, Arthur, tell me.”

“It ain't nothin',” he promised. “Nothin' important, anyways...” he licked his lips, looking over at the half empty bottle of wine and sighing. “Wanna finish off that bottle before bed?”

“Sure.” You agreed quietly, pulling away.

Arthur couldn't tell you, he wasn't smart enough to admit all the things flooding through his head; he promised he would write it down in his journal, and that if he ever went and left you, then you would know. It wouldn't be smartly worded, and you would probably laugh through the tears, but at least you would know.

You would know that, to Arthur, your love was like the Mississippi River, and your touches were like that of a preacher's, and with every kiss, you caused him to drown in the sweetest way, and with every touch, you made him feel as if he had found heaven; if you showed him the bottom of the river, he would surely give you his soul as well as his heart... and he would only hesitate a little.

Letting you sit in his lap, Arthur took a few swigs from the bottle before sighing heavily. “I appreciate you comin’ all this way, (y/n)... you know that, right?”

“I know,” you nodded, taking your turn. “But you know I jump at every chance to spend time with you, Morgan... I didn't agree to be yours to not do stuff like this.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “But I just... shit, I need you to know that this... comin’ out all this way with me... it means somethin'... to me.”

tags; @ivancarreras @princess-of-fuckup @wing-dingy

#arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 one shot #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 one shot #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #mlem writes

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trainthief · 4 years

Note

Hey man. I’ve been spending too much time online this yr & I need a hobby or I’m gonna start developing opinions on podcasters’ dating histories.. You mentioned woodcarving or smth similar a while back & you seem like the guy to ask about this. Do you know any similar cheap, relatively practical hobbies that are about working with your hands? Thanks man xoxo

All podcasters are just Blue Apron salespeople and it’s important to remind yourself of that every once in a while, so good on you... And yeah, I’ve got you! Whittling is a good one like you said, I started off carving bars of soap when I was little but I’d honestly just recommend going straight to wood, since it’s free and everywhere and less wasteful to fuck around with. Find a soft wood like pine, always cut away from yourself (in whittling there are techniques where you cut toward yourself for more directional control but until you’ve got great knife handling don’t risk it). There’s all sorts of fancy knives you can get but I just do it with the super cheap Opinel knife I always keep in my pocket anyway and I think it works great, highly recommend (just get a sharpening tool too because wood carving can dull a knife more quickly than just average daily use). There’s lots of little patterns you can start with but I’d recommend this easy old man face pattern from this specific YouTuber, check out his other videos as well because he’s great.

Other stuff off the top of my head..... um, my mom and I used to cross-stitch together when I was little and it was pretty fun, I’ve meant to get back into it some day but have yet to. I was also just looking through my mom’s old scrapbook from when she was my age and it gave me the hankering to try scrapbooking as a form of journaling since I love taking random pictures of my day and am not particularly inclined to put my feelings down on paper. That might be worth trying... Woodworking in general is a lot of fun but it’s not an easy one to get into if you don’t have the right tools. Fishing is great, not really the right time of year for it currently unless you want to start off with ice fishing (which I wouldn’t since there’s a steeper learning curve), but in the spring it’s pretty easy to get a basic spinning reel and a rod and the rest of your setup for under $50, or even much cheaper if you go secondhand. If you happen to have a backyard and don’t have an aversion to firearms BB shooting is a lot of fun too. You can get a Red Ryder (a la Christmas Story) from Walmart for like $25, and a huge tin of BBs for another $5. It’s always worth practicing good gun safety, but a Red Ryder has such a soft velocity, even compared to other air rifles, that you’ll have a hard time actually shooting your eye out. If you live in an area where there are cervids, aka deer and elk and moose and whatnot, then shed hunting season starts up in about a month. Shed hunting is searching for antlers that are naturally shed at the beginning of winter, and are just lying around on the ground hidden in the thickets. Depending on your state you might be required to get a (probably free) permit first that you can print off from your DWR website, but it’s a good time. And when shed hunting season ends then mushroom hunting season begins, just be careful to identify everything before you stick it in your mouth. Umm... I’ve been drafting up a dream house blueprint lately just because. My younger brother likes to create really intricate topographic maps from his imagination, also just because. I think that’s everything I’ve got off the top of my head, hope that helps.

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akampana · 3 years

Note

16 cutoria but in a vampire/werewolf au?

ANON LOOK WHAT YOU DID ITS 6716 WORDS LONG/lh

16 “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I have no choice.” Werewolf AU Cú Chulainn x Arturia Pendragon

________

“You’ve stalled for too long, brat.”

The she-wolf dropped into the clearing without a sound, her experienced paws padding across the forest floor as lightly as the beating of butterfly wings. Scáthach was a creature of grace, even as a large canine. Her hunts were nothing short of elegant either, carried out quiet enough such as not to disturb the night. It was no wonder at all that she was once the Alpha of the pack.

The new Alpha was not so. Though the runs he was tasked to lead were mostly just as productive, he was rough and arrogant, hunting larger prey while scorning rabbits and smaller faunus. While the pups enjoyed being handed larger game whenever he came to the den, his chosen prey’s strangled cries always alerted nearby animals to go running. In winter, such conduct put the whole pack in danger of going hungry.

Despite that, it was only Scáthach who ever told him off, for there was no one else quite as strong as the large grey beast that was bestowed the honor of being their leader.

“You know what snow does to the rival packs, Cú,” hummed the wiser wolf as she circled the hubristic pup. She was never in favor of putting him in the lead just yet, but she had served her purpose, teaching him all that she knew. She didn’t doubt he had the prowess. He just lacked the responsibility.

“They have been seen closing in on our territory, now that prey runs scarce. You’ve been lucky, bringing in as much elk as you have thus far. But how will you maintain that while defending the territory, hm? Pull a miracle and find some loose sheep like you did last winter?”

Her pup-turned-leader snorted, shaking his snout as he stalked away. “This another attempt at getting me a mate, old hag?”

The she-wolf bared her teeth at the new alpha, batting his snout with her paw. “A mate shows power and longevity, you know this. Fionn may not have been the best father to you, but he brought you brothers and he brought you safety.”

“I ain’t taking Medb,” Cú snarled back, his fur standing on end at the thought. “So shove it. I’m heading out. Tell Ferdíad I can’t make it to game night.”

Without another word, the alpha wolf bounded off into the trees faster than the human eye could follow. He leapt past hills, his paws crunching snow beneath him, careless of the little prey that scuttled about. They were done with today’s hunt. Even Ferdíad's litter could go to sleep completely satisfied.

The wolf dodged through the thick vegetation mile after mile, until the paths he marked out for the younger wolves were no longer in sight. Although he doubted the den mother would approve of him going so far out into their territory alone, he was the alpha now. His decisions would no longer be questioned.

Finally, he came to a cave: an old abandoned bear den, that lesser beings avoided though its owner no longer lived there. His sharp ruby eyes darted to his surroundings, making sure he wasn’t followed. Then, he entered the den, as he had done several times before, and came out the cave’s other end.

Only Diarmuid knew about his hideout, and he’d like to keep it that way. As long as the beta kept this little secret within the pack territory, Cú could keep her safe.

The large canine made his way past a few evergreen trees ‘til the humble farm came into view. Sure enough, there she was in the middle of the fenced off enclosure, sitting amongst her sheep while the lambs fed on the last of the grass.

Here was Scáthach’s little “miracle”: a shepherd that had seen Cú’s starving figure at the edge of her farm last winter and purposely left her fence gate open. To this day, Cú still did not know why she did it, but her generosity got his entire pack through the harsh season.

In return, he’d secretly kept foxes and wild wolves off her farm, making sure the lesser beings knew better than to encroach on his personal territory.

At least, that’s what he did as a wolf.

Cú returned to his little cave, snarling as his fur receded into his skin. The alpha curled onto the ground, biting his own paw to stifle his groans as the bones within him shrank and contorted into a lesser form. His snout receded into a straight nose, his fangs into passably human sharp teeth. Without his night vision, Cú reached blindly for the small duffel bag tucked into a small hollow and pulled out an artificial coat and a pair of trousers.

What snuck out of the enclosure was no longer a grey apex predator, but a tall, muscled man with flowing dark hair: an ordinary hunter, no more special than the ones that frequented the northern town.

The bell chimed as he walked through the entrance, signalling the blonde shop owner of his arrival. Cú tried not to smile too widely as Arturia Pendragon popped her head through the staff door, but he knew that was a futile effort.

“Hey, shortie.”

“Good evening, Cú,” replied the woman, snorting at his favorite nickname for her as he hung his coat on the rack. “I have your usual ready...though I still cannot understand why you prefer coming here rather than the supermarket. You know Arthur takes our supply every Monday. He's down there with Arash the rest of the week. Isn’t that a little closer to home?”

Right. She still thought he lived in town. It was easier than saying he lived across the woods in a village even more secluded then hers which would be impossible to get to from here without a two hour drive unless you were a wolf that could cross the forest terrain in a fraction of time, so he didn’t correct her.

The Irishman shrugged and sank into the rug before the fireplace. “Mutton’s better fresh. 'Sides, the grocers don't stock your pies. Ya really should sell 'em, Arturia, I'm tellin' ya.”

The woman scoffed, lightly nudging her friend to the side with her foot. As he scooched over, she set down a food tray between them: one with two glasses of whiskey and two slices of pie.

"Flatterer," she accused, handing the bigger slice to Cú anyway. He wolfed it down in seconds.

The first time he showed up at her door went much the same way, just a lot more awkward.

It was the day after his wolf came home with her sheep. He'd already knocked on her door to thank her before realizing how stupid that idea was. What was he meant to say?

Hey, uh, thanks for letting me hunt your sheep to feed my pack. My best friend's wife just popped a litter of hungry babies, hehe gotta feed them young am I right? Oh, by the way, I'm the wolf from yesterday, nice to meet you—Yep. No. not gonna work. This was a terrible idea. Stupid, really. He was stupid. Why did he even come here again?

Then she swung open the door, freezing the man in place with his mouth half open.

"Can I help you?" She asked, but before he could even reply, he was greeted by snow. Everywhere. All at once. Down his spine and into his underwear.

Now, he wasn't as susceptible to the cold as the common human, but she did not know that. Before he could even get a word out, he was sitting in front of the fire to dry while she ran to get him something warm to drink.

A change into Arthur's clothes and some hot coffee later, he was being served pie at the dining table to make up for his unexpected snow shower.

"Again, I sincerely apologize for that. My brother and I haven't had the chance to fix the porch roof. We just moved to this old farm last month,” rambled the short Welsh woman as she handed him a hot towel.

After some hesitation and observation on the stranger’s way of dress, she asked, “Did...did you come here for lamb?"

Little did she know, she'd just handed Cú the perfect excuse. Plus, he now knew exactly how to show his gratitude.

"If I fix up yer roof would ya give me a discount?"

Over the next week, Cú would come to the Pendragon residence to make repairs. It wasn’t just the roof that needed patching up.

It turns out she and her brother were alone in the world, cheated out of their inheritance and everything else they owned by their older sister. All that was left to them was this old farm and cottage, which neither had visited since they were kids. Their half-sibling even threw in three truckloads of animals as a joke, since she had all the riches in the world to spend and a special budget for humiliating the two green-eyed blondes.

Still, the twins were educated. Brilliant, even. And though they were clumsy when it came to most household repairs, their experience tending equine stables for their late father translated rather well to animal husbandry. In a month, they had made enough to pay the bills and get them a secondhand laptop and working Wi-fi. The next month saw Arturia getting her own computer.

Half a year down the line, Cú was sure that the Pendragon siblings would move out, but here they stayed, still maintaining their humble farm though it was no longer their only form of income. Neither of them needed the burden of moving back to London, with its ridiculously high cost of living and impossible rent rates. They’d grown fond of the land they actually owned and its peace.

That suited Cú just fine, because he had grown fond of Arturia.

Cú still visited, even after all the repairs had finished. His nephews were always hungry, and while the mutton did not satisfy the little pups’ bloodlust as much as wild game, it made up for the deficit while the children were in human form. But even Arthur knew his bi-monthly purchases were just an excuse.

He was there for the coffees, for the brief moments his fingers would brush hers. He was there for the whiskey, the cheap bottles they shared before the fireplace while she told him everything she could about the city. He was there to make fun of her posh way of speaking, to pull the ribbon from her hair, to bring her fruits and berries and furs and let her read him books.

He was there for her.

Scáthach’s training only increased in intensity as the months passed, and between his day job and being the new alpha, Cú had little time left for himself. But what he could spare, he spent with his favorite person, even if it was just watching her tend her sheep from a distance while he kept foxes out of her territory.

Cú tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, happy to see she didn’t even flinch, but plagued by the thought of his wolf. He was the pack alpha now, and that meant a shitload of other responsibilities that would keep him from her for as long as he held that title.

“That’s all yer charging me, shortie? Nah, can’t be,” Cú resisted, pushing a few more bills across the table. “That’s way too cheap, even if yer sweet on me.”

Pink-faced, Arturia slid the packed meats back across the counter, reached behind her, and procured a carefully wrapped circular dish which she placed in a bag.

“Take it,” she insisted, hooking the bag onto his fingers. “We’ve been ridiculously lucky to not get any wolves and foxes considering how much higher into the mountains we live compared to the rest of the town. There is more than enough left for Arthur and I.”

Cú peeked into the extra bag, catching a glimpse of a familiar crust. God, she was far too kind. He’d reject the offer, but he’d always wanted to bring some shepherd’s pie back to the pack. This was his chance.

“Ya sure?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, holding open the front door as Cú made his exit. “This is the least I could do for you, Cú. You have helped make us feel home in this far-off place. I would even say that you are family but—”

“Go out with me,” the werewolf interrupted, shoving all his reservations into his internal dumpster. He didn’t know how yet, but he was gonna make this work. “Come on, I know ya like me, shortie.”

Tiptoeing, Arturia snaked a hand into his hair and pulled him down to her level, planting a small kiss on his cheekbone.

“It is...a little more than ‘like’, I believe,” the woman admitted bashfully, trying to mask her embarrassment by awkwardly sneaking back behind the door. “...Eight tomorrow?”

Cú bit his lip, glad to hear confirmation on what he already knew. She loved him back. She loved him back. God, he better not be looking like a child just handed some candy.

“Nah, this morning weekend. This weekend morning. The morning of this weekend,” he fumbled, rewarded with a short chuckle from her end. “I wanna have a whole day with ya for once, shortie. I’ll make it worth yer time.”

There was a spring in his step as the alpha bounded across the forest that night, carrying the bags carefully with the handles between his teeth.

If only he weren’t so distracted. Then he’d have noticed the salivating spy that watched him leave the abandoned bear den with a fresh pack of meat.

Snow fell heavily across the landscape on Tuesday evening, covering the last of autumn’s colors in a blanket of pure white. After dinner time was always idle for Cú, so he spent it sharing Arturia’s gift with the kids and spinning his phone in his fingers.

Instinct told him a storm was coming, and though it would probably have passed by Saturday, Cú wondered if he should try and reschedule his anticipated date. He wasn’t too worried about Arturia, since Arthur said he’d be coming back up to the cottage tonight, so at least she wouldn’t be alone all through it. Plus, the twins really did have a lot of food in stock. In comparison, he and his pack were the ones less prepared.

His sharp ears perked up as a familiar presence entered the grounds. The alpha’s brow knitted, as the slight smell of blood entered the air, but if the little ones weren’t alarmed, it must not have been such a serious wound.

Diarmuid stepped into the kitchen, still pulling on a wool jacket and shaking the snow off of his dark hair.

“Evening, Alpha,” the handsome man said softly, taking notice of the pie that sat in front of the pups.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just call me Cú. Yer no less my little bro now than ya were before, Diar,” he corrected, sliding a plate his way. “Try that.”

The amber-eyed man approached the meal like a cat did water: hesitantly and suspiciously. Thankfully, as soon as he had a taste he had about the same reaction as Ferdiad’s kids did. Which was...basically nearly crying tears of joy.

“Where did you say you got this?” Diarmuid asked, snatching up another helping as Cú smirked. He’d not give the answer up that easily.

The alpha’s red eyes landed on his brother’s shoulder, finding a clumsy bandage just sticking out the collar. At once, he herded the beta into a different room, far enough from the pups that they couldn’t hear.

“The hell happened to ya?” Cú demanded, pulling the shirt collar to the side to better gauge the severity of the wound.

“It’s a warning, Sétanta” Scáthach answered for her son, entering the log cabin from the back door. “The rival packs were closing in on the border. I doubt their side of the mountain is as scarce as they make it out to be and yet they have the gall to encroach on ours.”

“Our territory’s guarded. That’s why we moved Fergus, ain’t it? To cover all bases. Den in the center with the pups, Me and Diar in the North, and dad in the South. Fergus’s gang to the west, and we got the town in the east and all wolves know not to mess with the towns,” Cú shot back, unconcerned.

Red eyes much alike to Cú’s observed him with kind care, seeing the wolf pup and alpha both. The new leader was strong, but he was arrogant. In a way, he was a perfect successor, for she knew he could kill her should the need arise. However, too loose he was with laws; too untethered by the rules that kept their kind safe.

“It would be a show of strength to take a mate. To let all know that our new Alpha has his right hand—”

Cú waved his arms dismissively. “The hands I do have are more than enough to drive them off. Ya know that. Now, are we stocking up for the pups or what? The storm ain’t gonna delay, I can smell it.”

22:24 Read

Cú paced the main den like a dog kept in an enclosure for far too long, tossing his half-charged phone while he awaited her message.

Four days. It had been four days since the blizzard started, piling snow on top of snow day after day as if it was trying to beat some arctic record. The log cabin’s ground floor was completely sealed in. They’d been on generator for the last four hours, listening to the weatherman on the radio as he promised for the third time that tonight the storm would finally pass.

Diarmuid was curling up with his nephews, keeping them warm in wolf form as they slept. Cú thanked every god he knew that they went on a hunt before the blizzard hit, else the kids went hungry. He and Diarmuid hadn’t planned to stay at their brother’s but the weather hardly gave them a choice. Their cottage was a lot further off.

22:24 Read

Cracks appeared on the glass as Cú glared into his mobile’s screen, hoping for some sort of change. But no. There sat the same exchange from an hour ago, the same bloody text just very loudly broadcasting to him the worst news of today.

One of our generators broke down. I need to move the power to the barn.

For real? Are you okay, shortie?

Arturia?

Hey, ya can’t just leave me hangin like that.

Arturia?

22:24 Read

“Sétanta, would you just put the bloody phone down?!” Ferdiad screeched, snatching the device right out of the alpha’s hands. “I said we were gonna talk, how the hell are we supposed to talk when yer not even givin’ me the bloody time of day!”

The low growl that escaped through the alpha’s bared teeth shook the cabin like an earthquake.

“What,” Cú barked, grabbing his precious device back while his brother stood his ground. “If this is just another lecture about how Scáthach was right, I should have just fucked with Medb and get it over with, I ain’t hearing another fucking word.”

22:24 Read

“No, you piece of—” Ferdiad inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring with frustration. The older man grabbed his brother by the shoulders, shaking him like a rattle. “Cú. Listen to me.”

As Diarmuid shushed them both, Ferdiad pointed outside, to where nothing could be seen but heavy white ice.

“Do you seriously think Scáthach wants you to mate that pink-haired priss? ‘Course not. She just needs ya to set down roots,” the delta wolf explained, looking over the alpha’s shoulder to his three sons. “You are the strongest of us, Cú, but nothing ties ya to this territory. For all the outsiders know you could be planning to move and make your own pack.”

The younger of them grimaced as Diarmuid nodded from his perch with the pups.

“I ain’t going nowhere,” the new alpha emphasized, shrugging out of his brother’s touch.

“Well they don’t know that! What if this whole time, the only reason they haven’t advanced is cause we’ve been keeping close watch on our borders, hm? Hell, you and Diar have basically been here the entire fucking week, they probably think you’ve bloody moved on. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they took advantage of this stupid storm to move into our territory, now that you’re not guarding the north!” Ferdiad argued, baring his fangs at his superior.

22:24 Read.

Cú’s heart stopped, the poor phone in his hands near crunching in his grip. No. The Pendragons didn’t live too far from the town. It was fine. She was fine. Just snowed in.

No werewolf was crazy enough to go near town in their canine form, not even the rival packs. There was too much risk of being found out. Simply no way.

Unless...

22:24 Read.

Unless they didn’t have any food in store. Unless they were looking for some easy pickings. Maybe a couple of sheep that wouldn’t be missed, stolen from a farm just a little out of range of the nearby village.

A farm with a single, vulnerable caretaker, forced to share a heater with her flock.

22:24 Read.

Cú frantically pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear, shushing Ferdiad before the delta could return to making his arguments. Three rings later and the line cut. He tried again, heart dropping like deadweight when it gave the same result.

His footsteps became panicked as he walked round in circles, scrolling upward to a contact that was here only for emergencies.

“Arthur,” Cú said through the phone, hearing the familiar voice of his blonde friend coming through the line. “‘S Arturia there with ya?”

Suddenly a quiet bang resounded throughout the room. A gunshot, deafened by distance and snow. Any false sense of security Cú still had shattered with the sound.

“The hell?” Ferdiad exclaimed, rushing towards his children to comfort them. “There can’t be any humans crazy enough to hunt in that storm.”

The alpha was no longer around to hear him.

Arturia never held any hate for her half-sister. Not even when she banned her and her twin to Ireland with nothing left to their name. Despite everything, Arturia thought her punishment was not too cruel, for she still had Arthur. She still had a degree under her belt, and in a way, Morgan had cast her far away from a destiny she didn’t even want to fulfil. Arthur never wanted to take over the mining company and neither did she.

The first few weeks were difficult, but they learned to live on their own. They made a humble world for themselves that wasn’t tied to their prestigious last name. It was simple. But it was good.

She’d admit it got a little lonely with just the two of them around, but...then there was Cú. Cú, who helped them fix up the house, who came bringing drinks or food they could all share by the fire. Cú, who helped them get set up at the market, who got them their regular buyers and still made himself a frequent customer. Cú, who made up excuses just to see her, who scorned the couch to lie down on her lap while she read.

The cabin was always a little warmer when he was around. It was home when he was around.

She should have asked him out sooner.

The wolves came crashing through the windows, raining thick glass all over her flock. There were seven of them. All massive beasts with fur of brown and grey, glowing eyes and bared fangs. In their view, she may as well have been just another sheep, helpless in the face of the predator.

The air was a cacophony of distressed bleating, panicked hooves and growls as the sheep tried their best to escape their fate. Amidst it were her own hoarse screams as a brown beast sank its fangs into her arms, her frantic kicks to its belly doing nothing to throw the large beast off. Desperate green eyes searched the floor for her gun, which sat useless under her first attacker, a chestnut wolf that had ignored smaller prey and gone straight for her.

Her own blood dripped down onto her cheeks as the wolf above her crushed her limbs between its teeth. Arturia’s eyes prickled with tears as fresh cries escaped her lips, grieving not from the pain but for all she was going to lose. So soon, she had to say goodbye to her new life, her brother, to any chance she ever had at a happy ending.

The woman felt her predator’s claw stomp onto her throat, stifling her screams as its teeth dug into her shoulder. Salt fell freely from her eyes as the beast tore through the muscle. Was this how she was going to die? Cold and alone amongst the carcasses of her flock? Was this how Arthur would find her when the blizzard did subside, torn to pieces and left scattered all over the barn floor?

Arturia shut her eyes, unwilling to let her last sight be that of her killer. Instead, she thought of Arthur, hoping someone would be there for him through it all. She thought of Cú, she thought of the lovely blue dress she was supposed to wear when she finally went out with him. She’d been waiting for the day to finally wear it. She knew he loved the color blue.

As her lungs began to burn for air, her final thought was a prayer to a God she didn’t know she still believed in. If she were to die today, then let it be the last pain her two favorite boys would ever experience—

Suddenly, frigid oxygen entered her lungs as her attacker was tackled off of her, leaving Arturia hacking and coughing as she gasped for breath. She sat up dizzily, gripping her injured shoulder with bleeding arms as she tried to get her bearings.

The pack had abandoned the few sheep that were left, hounding instead the new arrival: a wolf easily larger than her from head to tail, with grey fur that glistened in the little light. Its glowing red eyes seemed aflame with rage as it sank its teeth into her attacker’s throat and snapped its neck like a toothpick, showering all the surrounding dogs with their leader’s blood. Even then, the grey wolf did not stop, jumping at the next canine and carrying out its execution.

The woman limped to the exit as fast as she could, bracing herself against the biting cold as she made her way back to the cabin. Behind her, the barking continued as wolf fought against wolf, the red-eyed one beating off the remaining four while the frightened sheep ran wild with fear.

Arturia slammed the cabin door closed behind her, bolting every lock there was with frostbitten fingers before sneaking a glance back into the barn through the window. There was barely anything to make out amidst the pouring snow and the painful throbbing in her head, but all she knew was that somehow...the newcomer was winning.

She didn’t know what kind of divine intervention must have occurred for that wolf to come save her, but...all it did was buy her a little time. Even if she was safe from predators in the cabin, the freezing cold would take her before morning. Maybe she could start a fire, but she’d lost so much blood, she could barely even stand.

After much struggle to ignite the tinder, the injured woman slumped onto the rug before the fireplace, taking comfort in the hearth’s warmth as the blizzard raged on outside.

A loud crash brought her attention behind her, to where stood the red eyed wolf, blood staining the grey fur on his shoulder. Two emotions gripped her heart at the same time: fear and recognition. As the beast stalked its way toward her, she finally understood why he looked so familiar.

It was the young wolf from last year, the one who sat right outside her fence, neither coming in to attack her flock, nor fleeing at the sight of her. She’d always wondered what became of him after he ran off with a couple of her sheep. He had a lot more weight on him compared to back then, enough that she knew it was hopeless to try fighting him off. If he’d somehow defeated the entire pack in the barn, an injured human like herself didn’t stand a chance.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she croaked, her shattered vocal chords barely able to keep up. “Please just make it quick.”

Almost as if he could understand her, the wolf whimpered and flattened his ears against his head, lowering himself as he approached.

For the second time that night, Arturia shut her eyes as the wolf caged her broken, shivering figure to the floor. She stiffened, anticipating another bite as he brought his head closer.

Then she felt a warm tongue lick her cheek.

Arturia’s eyes snapped open in surprise, locking with increasingly familiar ruby irises. The wolf lay its head on her chest, gently resting on top of her as it whimpered. Suddenly, it began to whine, jerking back and forth as its body contorted itself into a different shape. One that was smaller, one that hadn’t a silver coat of fur, one that no longer crushed her underneath its weight.

Soon it wasn’t a wolf at all that Arturia held in her arms, but a man. Large hands that she recognized traveled up to her cheeks, his thumbs stroking away her tears. Her heart warred with itself, overtaken by pain, relief, fear, security. But all of that could wait.

Cú leaned forward til he was kissing her, molding his mouth into hers til he had her lips memorized.

“Cú,” Arturia whispered, when they separated to breathe, her injured arms wearily looping around his neck. “You’re…”

“Sorry,” The man shushed her with another deep kiss, enveloping her shivering figure into his embrace. “I didn’t wanna tell you like this, but I have no choice. I’m—”

“The wolf from last winter,” she interrupted, her mind struggling to put together the pieces. “The…wolf who came to save me. You were here with me this whole tim—mmh”

The man’s fingers snaked behind her head, supporting her as tasted her mouth once more.

“Ya saved me first.”

There was a desperation in the way that he moved, the way he touched her cold skin. He didn’t want it to be like this. He wished their first kiss would have been somewhere warm. He wanted to take her out to the lake, hold her hand…not drag her into his world of hunt-or-be-hunted.

Cú pressed his lips to her neck, regretting the multitude of wounds she sustained there. If only he were here earlier. If only he were faster. This would never have happened if wasn’t so damn careless.

The werewolf pulled down her scarf and jacket, exposing the deep wounds the rival pack leader had left at the junction of her shoulder and all over her arms.

They bit her.

Cú pursed his lips, placing a few more kisses to her temple. He hoped it would be enough. He hoped she would understand his feelings for her. He hoped she would forgive him.

“Let’s get ya patched up, shortie, okay?”

Cú borrowed some of Arthur’s clothes for the second time, leaving her momentarily to redirect the power back to the cottage instead of the barn. There were nothing but carcasses to warm over there now. After that, he no longer left her side, nursing her wounds the best that he could and keeping her close to share his body heat.

“You’re gonna turn,” Cú said seriously, hugging the one person he loved more than anything to his chest. Werewolf saliva was powerful, and so their kind never endeavored to sink their teeth into humans unless they were sure to kill the target or intentionally make them part of their pack.

“How soon?” Arturia answered back, turning to look up at her saviour. All the fear in her eyes had disappeared, replaced with melancholy and trust. Of course she was upset. Creatures of his world had just gone and stolen her new life away.

“The next full moon,” Cú answered regretfully, “Tomorrow night.”

Cú brushed her bangs out of her face, letting his ruby eyes clash with her emeralds. “Ya scared?”

The man didn’t even know why he was asking. But what were you supposed to say to someone who was just dragged into a hidden world she knew nothing about? How was he supposed to tell her she’d be riddled with bloodlust for the rest of her life, that she’d crave the hunt, that she’d yearn for the night? How was he supposed to tell her she had to give up the one family she had left to keep him away from the life of a hunter?

“Should I be?” Arturia answered, deceptively calm. No doubt, she was thinking of the heavy price she had to pay for surviving.

Cú knew Scáthach was coming. He could feel it. As soon as this bloody storm let up, the she-wolf would put her nose to the air, track him down to this cottage, and put down the rival pack’s unintentional new member before she even had the chance to morph.

Not if he could help it.

“Ya said l was like family to you, Arturia, did ya mean it?” he asked, his heart racing like crazy. His favorite person nodded into his chest, fiddling with his fingers and palm.

“Then...d’ya wanna be that to me, forever though?” he stuttered out, suddenly losing all manner of confidence.

Arturia got up to face him. “How do you mean?”

“Damn yer really gonna let me get into the specifics, huh? Right,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head despite himself. “Look, for us, there’s just one. One mate, for the rest of our lives. You just feel this...bond with them, ya know? Strong enough ya can’t bear to be without them. If ya let me, I want you to be that for me."

"Cú, are you asking me to wed you?" she asked back, confusion settling in the crease between her brows. "But we haven't even gone out yet—"

"Ya were gonna marry me eventually," he shot back, flicking the hair outta her face. "I'm quite the husband material, dontcha think? I bring ya food, I eat your pie—my family likes them by the way—I'm handsome as fuck, not ta mention, charming, what’s the harm in speeding things up a lil’?"

The werewolf grinned at her, trying to cover up how bloody nervous he actually felt.

“And also my pack won’t kill ya. Cause you know, technically ya belong to the rival pack, because they’re the ones that bit ya. But also yer all that’s left in that pack, after tonight and…” he paused, cupping her face with his hands, “I'll still court you, 'Turia. I want to. I'll give ya a good life. Swear.”

Arturia’s lips quirked upward for a second, knowing how crazy adamant Cú could be with following promises.

"Alright,” she confirmed, accepting his kiss. “I just...I worry about Arthur."

"So you finally show up, hm? Disappear for a while, why don't you? Doesn't matter whether or not the rival pack comes to—"

Scáthach inhaled, sniffing her grey wolf pup as she circled him. Something had changed about her son, she could feel it.

"There is no rival pack," Cú answered, grinning like a madman. “Only two new additions to ours.”

"What?"

“Last winter, it stormed just like this, didn’t it? No game, not even the smallest of hares. We were considering crossing over to the other side of the mountain, yeah?” Cú asked back, eagerly goading out the she-wolf’s response. Scáthach stared at him intensely, her red eyes glowing in the light of the full moon.

“You came back with sheep—”

The grey wolf nodded its head in a near-human fashion.”They were gifts. From them.”

Cú yipped, calling for the two concealed wolves to come into the den.

One was large and long, with fur as black as the bark of trees. He came out of the woods like a moving shadow, paws of coal shuffling through the snow. Even Scáthach, who was a midnight color herself, thought she was looking straight into a beautiful void.

The second wolf was smaller. She had a pelt of pure shining white, purer even than fresh snowfall. If not for the black nose that nuzzled into their alpha as she came close, she would be completely missable in their landscape of ice.Though of shorter stature, she strode like a king. Scáthach hadn’t a doubt that if this newcomer were born a wolf, she’d be an alpha herself without question.

The two newcomers stared at the she-wolf with matching emerald eyes, each set of orbs sparkling with the colors of the aurora. Siblings. Strong ones. But any wolf could tell these two were not born with beast’s blood like the rest of them, their footsteps were too unnatural. Too clumsy. They were made beasts, and by their scent it had been the doing of the rival pack.

As her son pressed his snout to the white wolf’s nose, several things finally clicked into place. Cú had gone and done what she’d been pestering him to do for the last few months and had eliminated the pack that had been encroaching on their territory in one fell swoop.

Cú had chosen his mate: a human convert who’d inherited their rivals’ land the day she was bitten. A human who they just so happened to owe a great debt for getting them through last year’s winter.

As Cú’s beastly eyes stared her down, Scáthach had to admit... her bratty pup finally had her at a total loss. She couldn’t be mad about anything, couldn’t even nitpick at the tiny size of his chosen queen or her tar-coat brother. Gosh, Fionn was gonna get a lotta kicks outta this.

“Names,” the she-wolf demanded, circling the twins while Cú gave her a shit-eating grin. Then, she turned, looking back just once to signal for them to follow.

Side by side, the new wolves and the alpha made their way into the central den. Arthur was immediately swarmed by Cú’s brothers. Arturia, by Ferdiad’s pups.

Later, when all had settled back into human skin and a fresh change of clothes, Cú looked about his pack. Fergus and Medb had come to visit, with all sorts of food in tow. Diarmuid excitedly showed Arthur around the wolf den while Fionn and Scathach kept to their own corner. Ferdiad and his litter sat right in front of the brick oven, eagerly awaiting the shepherd’s pie the twins had prepared.

The alpha leaned down, resting his cheek atop Arturia’s blonde head.

“We never did get to go on that date,” she whispered lightheartedly, leaning her head onto his chest. “I even had a dress prepared.”

“Mmmmm that so?” Cú shot back, grinning, “I just think since we are “mated” we really ought to get to mating if ya know what I—”

Arturia’s palm snapped onto his lips before he could complete the thought. Suddenly, they were wrestling each other to the floor, the older wolf chuckling like a madman all the while.

“Kidding—ooofghmhm--kidding, Arturia, I’m kidding, jeez,” he managed to get out, placating his blushing mate as he grabbed onto her hands. The Welsh woman panted, from her seat atop him, her green eyes looking everywhere else but into his red orbs.

“Eight tomorrow?” Arturia asked, though she knew full well Cú was coming home with her that day.

Not even caring about the teasing whoops resounding through the wolf den, Cú pulled his mate down for another hug.

“Yeah. I’d like that, shortie.”

#tysm for the ask!#:>#akampana asks #love confession prompts #whew that was a long one #hope you liked it anon #might remake this into a fic on ao3 soon #cutoria #cuturia #arturia pendragon #cu chulainn #artoria pendragon #cu #arturia #artoria #fate #fanfic

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bestrelevant · 3 years

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Best Vacuum Sealer For Hunters

The best way for hunters to keep all meat fresh is to vacuum it once it's processed. When done right, it extends the shelf life of the meat up to 3-5 times longer! You really can't afford not to if you're a hunter who keeps and freezes his wild prey.

All too often we hear of hunters pulling meat from their last hunt only to find that the meat is now burnt in the freezer and spoiled. I think we can all agree that the meat from your hunt is special and, in many cases, essential to your family. Think about how much meat you would have to buy to replace it. How much would it cost?

We've compiled a list of the best vacuum sealers for hunters below. These products are made with you and your wildlife in mind. Check them out and be sure to miss your next freezer catch.

How to choose the best vacuum sealer for hunters ?

As we mentioned at the beginning, hunters have a slightly different use case than the normal home for a vacuum sealer. First, hunters only occasionally use a vacuum sealer, but when they do, they use it all at once. The best answer to this would be to invest in a commercial vacuum sealer like our "premium pick" above. These machines are made to run all the time. They are made with sturdy construction, quality materials and performance in mind. The downside to all of that is that they are LARGE AND EXPENSIVE!

Read to know: VP210 Chamber Vacuum Sealer Reviews

There are tons of cheap vacuum sealers on the market for $50-$100. Will they do that? Most of these cheap sealing machines leave a bad taste in your mouth. Many of them are small and only made for 1 or 2 stamps at a time. Sealing tons of venison in one go would cripple or even break most of these vacuum sealers. That's a problem for hunters.

That's where the GameSaver GM710 food storage system comes in handy. This FoodSaver vacuum sealer was built with hunters in mind. You can perform up to 80 consecutive stamps without a cool down period. To put that in perspective: the average vacuum sealer has to switch off and cool down after 6-8 seals. This is exactly what hunters need to preserve their game, fish and other meats.

Not only that, but this machine is ruggedly built, has a carrying handle and includes a 12V DC power adapter that allows hunters to use it in a car, side-by-side, or even in a boat with a 12-volt cigarette lighter port.

Why use a vacuum sealer?

Using a vacuum sealer is an easy way to split and extend shelf life and reduce freezer burns in your game. It does this by removing all air from the package before sealing, removing oxygen from the package and preserving the food. This is a practice often done with meats, fruits, nuts, vegetables, and even liquids. That makes a vacuum sealer the perfect tool for the following:

Deer, Elk, Elk Hunter

fishermen

gardeners

… and more!

Frequently asked questions about vacuum sealers

If you haven't used a vacuum sealer in the past and don't know much about it, it can be intimidating to try one. We've searched the web for some of the most common vacuum sealing food storage questions to try and ease your fears. It really is a quick and easy way to extend the shelf life of food, prevent freezer burn and save money.

Are vacuum sealers worth the money?

A vacuum sealer is definitely worth it, and there are several reasons for this. First, you can buy food in bulk and divide it into smaller portions at home, saving you money! This also works for much bigger things, like buying a full side of meat at a time. In addition, hunters and fishermen can preserve and extend the life of their catch or dead for years.

What should I pay attention to when buying a vacuum sealer?

When choosing a vacuum sealer, you should consider how you will use it. If you rarely use it, buy a cheap machine. If you pack whole deer every year, make sure you pick a good one from our list to last and get the job done. Also keep in mind the cost of suitcases. You can find cheap rolls of vacuum bags on Amazon, but if you don't buy the brand, read the reviews first.

Does vacuum sealing really work?

Yes, vacuum sealing is a great way to preserve food for a long time. It also has the secondary benefit of reducing food burn on long-term storage at sub-zero temperatures.

Vacuum Packing Tips and Tricks for Hunters

There are so many benefits that hunters and anglers will notice when purchasing a vacuum sealer. If you're still unsure, or just want more information on how it all works, check out this great article on Vacuum Sealing 101 for Hunters from Avid Armor.

#vacuum #vacuum sealers

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knifeimport-blog · 6 years

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You must have elk ridge knives on your person at all times while on a hunting trip. One can get elk ridge hunting knives through Knife Import at wholesale prices anywhere within the US & Canada. Just remember, never to take your high quality elk ridge knife without its awesome sheath.

#knives #Knife #cool knives #cheap knives #hunting knives #hunting knife #best hunting knife #elk ridge knife #elk ridge knives #elk ridge hunting knife #cool hunting knives #knife import

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tharkenta · 4 years

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Wolvden Lore

Hey folks! I tried to write some actual lore for my pack! The writing is probably shitty, since I'm not a native english speaker and the last time I actually tried to write something is a few months back, so don't expect a well written story.

The story contains: 5k+ words, death & gore, 50% humans, guns and some racism towards native americans

Late August, 1898

Thunder roared and rain poured down since days. There hasn't been a storm like this in generations and now it was right above the den of the pack. Trees were cracking and uprooting under the heavy winds, the wolves were scared and crawled together in a large pile. Skahkatew - the lead wolf - was nervous. He was young and never saw such chaos caused by nature before. He whined and looked around, with every thundercrack and the sound of groaning trees he felt sand and dust falling from the cave ceiling. He barked lowly, wanting his pack to leave the cave, even if they would be vulnerable to the nature then. After a loud growl they finally started to stand up walked with their tails between their legs past their snarling leader. He knew this decision didn't bought him any popularity, but his instincts told him to leave this place. Their own home, which gave them and their ancestors a feeling of security for countless moons seemed to became a deathtrap in this storm.

After the last wolf walked slowly past Skahkatew, he heard a stone dropping to the ground. The cave was collapsing.

A sound between a bark and a growl left his throat and alarmed everyone of his pack to move faster. They all started sprinting to the exit, jumping out of the way from falling rocks. More and more obstacles were in their way and Skahkatew saw Kaineeha getting hit by a large stone on head. She fell down, a little bit confused and whining. He wanted to help her get up again, but a crack above his head made him pause. The ceiling above them started to split, rocks crumbled and before Skahkatew was able to help Kaineeha, she was crushed by a boulder. Skahkatew shrieked from the sound of breaking bones and Kaineehas last cry of pain, but if he kept staying here, he would have met the same future. He sprinted after his other packmembers, yelping and whining. He hoped everyone else came out of here alive, but his hopes were destroyed when he ran around a corner. There was she, Talika. Covered in blood, her muzzle wide open and fear in her lifeless eyes. Her stomach was burst and small dead bodies were visible. The bloodcovered boulder, who just rolled over her body, laid behind her. She would have expected pups in a few days.

Skahkatew was able to reach the exit a moment afterward, the rest of his pack - 2 females and a male - were also able to escape. A few seconds later the cave crashed together, emitting a sound louder than any thunder. Out of breath and panting, they all moved closer together, not knowing what to do next. Skahkatew walked in circles a few times, listened carefully to his sorroundings, but nothing more than the howling wind, creaking trees and thunder reached his ears. The creek, that was running in front of the cave was now during all the rain a wild river, going rapidly downwards the mountain. Following the stream would probably the best option, who knows if the storm was even stronger up the mountain. He slowly started going down on the slippery stones. Looking a few times back and quietly yelping. The rest of his pack was devastated, just like him. But they couldn't stay here, now wasn't the time to mourn. They formed a line and everyone stepped carefully down the mountain, always following the raging stream. The pack had to be careful, the storm was still raging above them, loose stones were rolling down the hills, aswell as broken branches. The trees besides them were creaking dangerously.

No one was sure how long they were wandering in the rain, but everyone was wet to the bones and tired. Skahkatew knew down here were dangerous humans, but here was also prey to hunt. Up the mountain they would have trouble pursue the bighorn sheep, they were far better at running on the steep walls than any wolf. Now they just needed shelter, and they would need it fast. He noticed that the other male wolf was limping. Seems like he also was injured while their cave collapsed, but he was lucky enough to come out alive.

The pack decided to rest below a ledge. Even if the stones were still slippery and wet, they seemed the most comfortable thing to lie upon right now. Skahkatew came closer to Lapu, who was licking his wound. It was larger than expected, the fur was torn away, the skin was broken and blood painted his dark grey fur almost black. The packleader couldn't do anything different than comfort him with his presence, since their herbalist died in their cave. Skahkatew was sure he will loose another family member soon.

They tried to get a few hours of sleep. The pack was sure it was night, but the heavy rain clouds took away every possibility to tell if there were stars or a sun hidden behind them, but at least the thunder stopped. Skahkatew woke up groaning, every bone in his body was hurting and his fur was still wet. The storm was over, and now thick fog was crawling slowly above the ground. After a few moments this family woke up, exept for one.

Lapu was still lying there, his legs stretched out from the body and his mouth a little bit open. His eyes were closed. The remaining 3 wolves gathered around the lifeless body. Saqitaipa, a wolf with striking yellow eyes, started howling at the sky. She began with a soft tone, but the rest of the pack joined in quickly until the song echoed from the mountains around them.

The heads low and drained from hope, they had to continue their uncertain journey to a new home. Their paws were swollen and Skahkatew was sure his were already bleeding from the rough underground. A mile ago they were able to reach the lush valley and the feeling of soft grass was heavenly below them. They entered the forest, needing some food soon. Skahkatew wasn't sure if they would have enough energy to hunt, but if they would work together, they could maybe be able to corner a small deer, it would be enough to fill their bellys at least a bit. The smell of blood shook him out of his daydreams and he sniffed the air. Something was hiding in the bushes and it seemed to be easy prey, if it wasn't a bear or a full grown elk.

Stalking through the underbrush, the wolf was following the scent. Skahkatew stopped when he was able to look into the forest clearing. In front of him was a human, pulling out an arrow from a dead hare. Blood was dripping to the ground, and Skahkatews mouth started watering. He wanted to snatch the corpse from the humans hands and run away with it. But he knew humans were rarely alone and very often they had loud sticks with them, who could just kill somebody if they pointed it on someone.

He wasn't willing to let the human just leaving with the rabbit, so he crawled out from the bushes, his body pressed to the ground. The man in front of him looked up in shock, freezing in his motion. Skahkatew saw how he was clothed. He recognized it. Those people weren't like the others he knew, this one had long, braided black hair, his garb was made out of leather and coarsely woven fabric and he had an Bow lied beside him. Once in a change of seasons, those kind of people usually came to the mountain and put gifts near their cave, which was now destroyed. Small trinkets and sacrifices in the form of fresh meat, his pack always respected this. However, they did not know why these people did this.

The man laid the bunny down, his hands parallel to the forest floor and his fingers spread apart. He slowly retreated then, looking Skahkatew in his eyes.

The human dissapeared between the trees and after a while Skahkatew heard the sound of hoofbeats getting quieter. He snatched the carcass and returned to his remaining family. Of course, the rabbit was far too little to feed a wolf, but it was better than nothing.

Skahkatew didn't ate. He wanted to explore the forest more and looked for a place to stay. He made sure the remaining 2 wolves of his pack started tearing the carcass apart, before leaving. He wandered at the edge of the forest, looking for other humans or any danger, but there was none. He found an old man-made path, almost completly overgrown with bushes and trees. It looked abandoned, so he followed it. It ended at a hillside, and there was a hole in the stone. The cave was framed with old wood, two very long broken strands of Iron came out of the cave entrys floor. Skahkatew stepped into the darkness of the old mine. The walls and ceiling were supported by thick wooden posts, here and there nature came through and a few bushes grew were the sunlight could reach them. The mine was large, larger than his former home and the humans seemed to have abandoned this place a long time ago. This cave didn't wore any smell of a different wolf pack, bears or cougars, so it seemed to have no owner. It was perfect.

With a wagging tail, Skahkatew came back outside. Grass grew in front of the cave and a few meters further, the forest thicket started then.

Cheered up and proud, he began to bark and howl at the darkening sky. His pack has found a new home to begin a new life.

The sun disappeared behind the horizon and the stars lit up the forest. The moon would rise tonight.

---

"They are WHAT?!", screamed James Davenport at one of his maids. She looked at the carpet and answered calmly,"They are outside Sir. They would like to talk about the old silvermine." She didn't dared to look up. Since James father died and he inherited the manor and the business, he slowly started to go insane. Day for day the paranoia was growing. He was greedy and bought cheap, but almost empty gold and silvermines hoping he would discover a treasure. But he was too selfish of selling the old mines of his father, fearing he could still find a few grains of precious metal in them.

James stormed outside with a rifle in his hand, but even if his visitors intentions were bad, he wouldn't been able to defend himself. He never used a weapon before, only one time years ago when he tried to impress a young lady by shooting empty bottles from a fence, but he failed miserably back then.

He was greeted by 5 natives sorrounded by his guards, who had their guns drawn but they held them loosly in their hands. The natives weren't armed, except for one, who also wore rather fancy clothes, a white patterned shirt with rolled up sleeves and a fine vest. His clothes, stance and overall aura revealed that he clearly wasn't raised in a native tribe. However, his face features could tell James he was one of them and he seemed to speak their language.

"Mister Davenport, I suppose?", he asked in perfect english, taking the cigarette butt out of his mouth and threw it to the ground.

"What do you want on my property?", James asked with clenched teeth. His mother came out of the house behind him, with a worried look on her face.

"Ma'am", the native spoke and tipped his hat, before turning his face back to James. "My name is Jonathan Smith, and my friends here-", he pointed at the other native americans, "wrote you a letter a few weeks back. They haven't gotten an answer so far, and we wanted to make sure you recieved the letter." He got off his chestnut horse, took a letter out of the Saddlebag and walked with with hands held up a little to James, so everyone could see he wouldn't draw any weapon.

Jonathan heard alot about the Davenport family, and since the son took over all the mines they were going rapidly downhill. He would love to shoot his face off and rather talk to the mother, she seemed to be a better negotiating partner, even if she hadn't said anything yet.

Jonathan hold out the piece of paper to James, who took it in his hand and scanned it quickly before he crumbled it and threw it to the ground.

"I recieved the letter and I'm not selling the place, just because there are some damn Mongrels in that mine that you worship! It is my property, I can do what I want!", James rambled, holding the rifle tight in his hand.

"Alright then", answered Jonathan with a raised eyebrow, before he translated James' words to the natives behind them. They exchanged a few sentences, before Jonathan spoke english again.

"Sir, we are talking about an empty mine. When was the last piece of silver found there? 20 years ago? maybe 25? Anyway, the mine is abandoned. The rails are broken and theres bushes grown everywhere, and now the wolves. 800 Dollar is a lot of money for such a place, Sir. Please, think about it."

"I don't need your dirty money, you Redskin! Now, leave my property!", James barked.

His mother, Mary, hushed to his side. She was whispering in his ears. "James, please. Start thinking! 800 Dollar, you will never get such a good offer ever again!"

But James just shoved her aside and entered the house. He was raging. He would never show weakness and sell any of his mine sites to these kind of people. He placed the rifle aside and looked out of the window. The native was back on his horse and he and his friends were leaving.

His mother stormed inside, disappointed in her son. "Why are you doing this? This mine is empty, it is useless! Just take the money, you know we need it!", Mary Davenport rambled with the wrinkled letter in her hand.

"I’m not selling it! Father would have done the same. They should have put these savages in the reservate already!" The man sat down on a fancy couch. The walls of the manor were mostly decorated with old family paintings and animal trophys. Some of them were wolves.

"It's not about the mine, I don't care about it. It's a demonstration of our power. These people should know their place and we are still a respectable family, mother. To hell with these Redskins! I'll kill those damn wolves myself and throw their corpses in the river!"

"Oh lord, this damn fool", she said to herself before leaving the room. Then she called for her personal servant.

"Leroy, would you please ride after that gentlemen who offered 800 Dollars and tell him to wait? Come back after then and take me to him, I would like to talk to him."

---

The open coach came to halt right next to Jonathan, who stood in front of a tree and was just lighting a cigarette. His horse was grazing behind him. Mary Davenport got out of the carriage, and stepped with a walking cane closer to him.

"Listen, I'm incredibly sorry for what my son said. And I know our family history is stained with the blood of your ancestors, but I can't stand behind anything my son had said to you and done to my husbands business.", she said.

Jonathan exhaled loudly and answered her, "If you just wanted me to wait here, so you could tell me how sorry you are for you son and my people, then it's just a waste of time. We offered enough money for the mine, he declined and now we can just keep our eyes open and hope no one plans to hunt the wolves on his land."

"Well I am truly sorry. But thats not why I'm here. My son wants to kill your wolves. He may be my only son, but he's insane! I really hope this conversation stays between us, Sir. But just for your information: If something may happen to James Davenport on his mission to hunt these wolves, it would be a tragedy. I would mourn like a mother would do, and then I would take the business over and try to get this shitsow back on the stage.", she told him, not once breaking eye contact.

Jonathan was a little bit baffled by her words, he had never heard an old noble lady talk like this. "You want me to kill him?", he asked.

She continued,"Young man, I may be old. But I am not dumb. And for sure I'm still in a position of power in my family! And I am done with James. He tried to run my husbands business after he died - God bless him - and he failed, and now he refuses to listen to me and keeps throwing my money away. He ruined me! If anything will happen to him, I will just stay silent and sell you the mine after you did what has to be done. So, yes I am asking you to kill my son. If that's not too much to ask, Sir. It will be beneficial to both of us."

She paused a few moments to give weight to her words, then she raised her hand.

"I've done worse, Ma'am. But I really hope you are not trying to fool me.", Jonathan said and shaked her hand.

---

Three figures were riding along the path that would lead soon to the old Davenport Silvermine. They were armed with rifles and revolvers, their intention very clear. After a few minutes of silence one of them spoke. He had a heavy irish accent.

"That bastard really wants us to hunt some damn wolves? What the hell does that fool think of us... We are guards, not hunters!"

"Eh, he doesn't have the money to hire proper hunters for this job. This Idiot is broke and I recommend you to look for something else to work. I'll soon go to to Boston with Jeanne and become a fisherman.", his friend said.

"I heard another mine went empty, the one he just bought a few months back. Now he wanted me and a few others to renovate the old barn. I guess he wants to breed horses now.", the third one said sceptically.

The other two were looking at each other in disbelieve. A few moments later the Irishman spoke again. "Seriously? That Idiot can't tell the difference between a horse and a donkey! Oh jeez, it's really going downhill with him. I'm telling you guys, after this damn job I'll look for something else. Maybe a barn where people actually know how to care for horses."

"Shut up, there he is."

All three really had to pull themselves together. James Davenport stood there next to his horse, trying to load a revolver with cartriges. He wore clothes that looked like he wanted to go on a safari, not on a hunting trip.

"What the hell...", one of the men said under his breath, so only his two friends could hear him.

"Mister Davenport? Looks like you are ready to hunt those wolves in the silvermine, but are you sure one revolver is enough? Those things are fast."

"Of course this is enough! Those are nothing more than some dogs that get worshipped by those damn Indians! I could have done this on my own, but I just don't know the region. Please, if you would lead the way?", he pointed along the way with his gun and got on his horse.

No one talked while they were riding. The three men didn't had anything nice to say to James Davenport anyway.

---

Jonathan kept his eyes and ears open for the next few days, so he wouldn't miss James Davenport, if he really wanted to keep his promise of killing the wolves. He thought of telling his former tribe about his plan, but rumors and storys could arise and if those rumors would reach the town, no native would be save anymore. Especially if James Davenport would mysteriously die after the rumors spread. He decided to do this alone. It wouldn't been easy, Jonathan sensed his victim wouldn't come a alone, maybe with one or two other men. But James didn't look like he knew how to use weapons. That was an advantage for Jonathan.

Jonathan and his parents were captured and sold to a tobacco plantation years back, when he was still a kid. His mother then got sold off to somewhere else, he never was able to find out where she is. But his father was able to get him out of this hell and he grew up on the streets of a large city. Jonathan stole a horse with 13 and rode off, trying to get work in the countryside. He was able to find the tribe he and his parents descended from two years later and lived with them, tried to reintegrate into his former lifestyle. He could still speak some of their language, but had to relearn a lot during that time. He lived with them for almost eight months, but Jonathan knew this wasn't the way he wanted to live, so he left them again and took back his name, which was given to him on the plantation. Jonathan found allies in the south of the country, living the live of a outlaw with them for a while. It was very lucrative, but robbing trains and stealing other peoples money wasn’t really his thing either. He still had a bounty on his head in a few states. He is now destilling and selling illegal alcohol with other people, the business is flourishing and thats where he got the money from, he offered the Davenports.

---

Skahkatew and his pack accustomed nicely to their new home. The first nights were filled with mouning howls for the lost packmembers, but they looked forward, established a new, larger territory and the pack was growing.

There was also a nest of humans a few miles away, and sometimes people would come to the forest, point their loud stick on a deer and took the carcass home. He also found the home of the black haired man, who gifted them a hare when they came down from the mountain. They lived in tents and seemed to have a close connection to the nature around them. Skahkatew somehow liked to watch them go about their day's work.

The sun was high in the sky and he didn't wanted to come back with nothing to the den. Maybe a small rodent should do. While he searched the bushes for any scent or tracks he heard multiple horses coming closer. Four people were trying to get the horses through the thicket to the mine it seemed. Skahkatew crept closer, but he wouldn't be able to defeat the alone and if he tried to call his pack, he would give away his position and maybe even his packmembers would run straight into the gunfire. He was willing to sacrifice himself for his family, they just found a home and he was not ready to give it up again so soon. Growling lowly he made himself ready to pounce. Just when he wanted to ambush one of the riders, a sharp bang and a impact of a bullet was heard- The men screamed and one of them fell dead to the ground. Somewere in his forest was another human hidden, who was killing others of his kind. Skahkatew rethought his plan, maybe he should rather wait and see what will happen. Maybe the hidden human will kill the other men aswell? The three remaining intruders jumped off the horses, who where panicking and fleeing as soon as they could. Two of them aimed their rifles at random bushes and trees, they didn't seemed to know where the shot came from. The third one struggled with his small firearm and Skahkatew saw how he was shaking. He must have been the runt of his litter... The second shot took down another men, but this time they had seen where it came from and returned the fire.

Projectiles flied through the air and while one man was hiding behind a thick tree, the other one was behind a bush and still shaking. He tried to reload his gun unsuccessful. The mans hands trembled too much and he dropped the bullets.

He crouched and crawled out behind the bush, to collect his dropped objects. The man behind the tree whispered something to him, it sounded like a curse. The man on the ground looked up, but that was his last move. Another shot and the bullet hit him right in his Temple. Blood and brain mass was painting the green leaves red and the man fell to the ground.

Skahkatew watched the scene with awe, those humans were crazy. If they wanted to fight each other, they shound do it with facing their enemy and not by hiding behind trees and making loud noises while shooting around. He kept scanning the forest, but he wasn't able to discover the attacker, he was very well at hiding from his prey.

---

Jonathan was able to take down James Davenport, but there was still one person left, he was stood behind a tree. Jonathan reloaded his rifle, changed his position swiftly and aimed at the spot.

"Come out you fucker!", the man behind the tree shouted. He didn't had any ammo left. The irishman thought it would just be quick hunting trip, not a shoot-out with someone else.

Jonathan kept silent and waited for the man to move away from the tree.

Skahkatew thought it was over, and moved a little bit from the bushes, trying to get a better view of the bloody scene. Unfortunatly the leaves started rustling, and the hidden man seemed to think there was another person hiding, so he shot. The bullet whistled through the air and struck in front of Skahkatew's paws. He shrieked up, fled into the next group of bushes and kept quiet from now on, he didn't wanted to end like the death humans.

Jonathan, was confused. Was it one of the wolves? Shouldn't they been startled by the gunfire? He reached into his pocket and tried to find another bullet. He still had enough, but he wished this would have gone smoother, he wasn't expecting four people trying to kill the wolves. He looked up at the tree, before he started to load his gun again.

"Oh you damn Redskins!", he heard behind him. Jonathan spun around on his heels, confused how the hell that man has gotten behind him, but it seemed like he used the moment while Jonathan looked for a bullet in his pouch and located him.

The irishman was fast and grabbed the rifle, threw it to the ground and started punching his enemy. Jonathan was overwhelmed from the situation, but he was able to counter a few blows from the larger man. Jonathan wanted to reach for one of his revolvers on his belt, but this move gave his rival the oppournity to punch him directly in the face. He fell to the ground, his nose bleeding and probably broken. The irishman threw himself on him, grabbed his throat and pressed hard. Jonathan fidgeted and tried to pull his hands off his neck, he wasn't able to breath. The man above him twisted his face and bared his teeth, his gaze was pure madness.

Skahkatew had been been following the scene, and wasn't sure what was happening. The hidden man tried to fight off the other one, but regardless what he did he was too weak without his shooting stick. He looked a little bit like one of the people who gifted him the hare, and the other one was clearly not interested in letting him go alive.

Skahkatew started to move, he couldn't watch this scene anymore, he wanted the people to leave his territory. If death was the only option, then so be it. He started to growl, dashed out of the bushes towards the men, who didn't see him at first. The native man was busy with staying alive, while he was gotten strangled. But other man looked in the last second of his life up into his killers eyes.

Skahkatew opened his mouth, baring his teeth and jumped at the man, who was trying to kill the other one. He grabbed his throat, bit down and heard something crack inside of him. His windpipe.

A weird whistling groan left his maw, and he tried to grab the wolfs head and shove him away, but Skahkatew was stronger. His teeth dug deep into the flesh of the human, painting his white fur red. More blood was pouring out of the mans neck, and he tried to breathe under the wolfs biting pressure. The human wasn’t able to breath through his mouth anymore. Skahkatew felt air sucking in through the wounds he made with his teeth through the skin and flesh, it made him biting down stronger. The prey should die.

A few moments later, the body went limp. Skahkatew jolted him a few times, still biting down hard, to make sure he was truly dead, but he body didn't move. He let go and looked up, the other man was on his knees, holding his throat and tried to breathe steady. Then both locked their eyes. The wolf was ready to jump again, but the man held out his hands now, looking shocked.

Jonathan wasn't able to process this scene so fast, he just had tried to fight this man who wanted to kill him with his bare hands. Suddenly he was ripped away from him by an unknown force. He held his throat and tried to get air back again in his lungs, then he looked up. An almost white wolf stood on the dead irishman, fletching his teeth, growling and its hair stood up. It was a ferocious beast, with blood smeared around its muzzle and fur. The wolf climbed slowly down from the corpse, ready to kill him too. Jonathan held out his hands, "It's ok, wolf. I'm not here to kill you.", he said with a scratchy voice. It was a dumb thing to do, a wolf couldn't understand him. He got on his feet slowly, both staring at each other. He held out his hands to the ground, his fingers spread. One of the other natives had told him to do this, if he would meet a wolf of the pack, and it seemd to work. The wolf stopped growling and didn't move towards him anymore. Jonathan was sure he saw something intelligent in this wolves eyes. Both stood there for a brief moment, before Jonathan started to move backwards slowly.

He stepped carefully, Jonathan had seen enough blood for today. The last thing he wanted, is to die here by some wolf. He entered the clearing, where his horse stood. The mare was nervous and neighed softly, when she saw his owner. Jonathan mounted the saddle and galloped into the direction of the Davenport manor. He would come back later to gather his rifle and remove all the evidence of the gunfight, if the wolves would leave something behind.

Skahkatew howled and waited for his packmembers to arrive. What ever caused this scene, gave his and his pack enough food for a few days. They gathered what they could transport to the cave and left the scene. The pack-leader kept patrolling the area of the fight the next days very carefully, he didn't wanted to see anything like this again, so close to his den.

---

Jonathan rode along the path, back to the place where he left his horse on the day he ambushed James Davenport. He dismounted his mare, his spurs clinging as he touched the ground. It was a foggy morning, and he could only see a few meters before the trees would vanish in the mist. The gunfight was just a few days ago and he wanted to see now if the wolves took the bodys. If not, he would have to bury them somewhere, where they couldn't be found. Jonathans nose was colored in a deep purple, a part of his right eye as well. The irishman had beaten him up well that day.

Miss Davenport was relieved, after she heard the news about her son, and she promised to sell the mine as soon as the upcoming hustle and bustle around her son would subside.

The corpses were gone, so the wolves had taken them he supposed. He collected the rifles and revolvers from the dead men, and as he walked to the spot, where he got attacked by the irishman, he found his own rifle stuck in the mud. Jonathan took it, cleaned some of the dirt and inspected it.

He sighted,"Damn." If he still wanted to use the gun in the future, he would have to disassemble it, to clean every part properly. That would take him hours.

The strange feeling came over him, as if he was being watched. He looked around, but couldn't hear anything except for the gentle wind in the branches and the singing birds. He felt uneasy, the last time the wolf was satisfied with the Irishman's corpse, but today he could be on the menu.

In the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw light grey fur scurrying behind a bush. Jonathan decided it was time to go. He had a seven-day ride to his home ahead of him, and he didn't wanted to loose any time.

#wolvden #lore #wolves #someone played too much rdr2 #i hope the read more link works #if you found any grammar errors pls tell me

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