Black Flies

I. Winter Stole Summer's Thrill

A frustrating, cold wind is sending the creature's scent off-balance, hitting him directly in the face and causing the canine to spit a few times before taking a long trot to catch up with the rest of the pack. His nails grind into the tough earth, gripping, trying to stay afoot as the current turns his fur back and makes running crooked a reality.

Julian needs them to find something to eat. A difficult mix of rain and the wet season has made catching prey a more hasty task than normal, especially considering his pack of alphas and betas aren't the most hunkiness of creatures. They're on the thin side, with bad pasts and even worse intentions; Davie himself isn't the most loyal, with a carefree attitude finding himself deep on a list of hatred among the alphas.

A low growl sounds in the werewolf's ear as he finds himself trailing behind, just yards between the usually-slow Marcus, his bushy brown tail flying in the wind. The beta turns his head around, looking guilty, his muzzle dropping. He seems frustrated with the same wind and weather, his fur matted down with mud and dirt. The beta was an overworked creature for his title; the alpha Jools preferred he was treated more as an omega-type servant, though he was as fond of Marcus as a human child would be to a new toy. He was treated to-a-t, and that was something Davie envied on a regular basis.

He catches up to the young brown wolf just in time to cross a stream of icy cold, dark water, sifting down from the mountains that traced the starry sky like a city skyline. The liquid sends a feverish chill up his body, his bones protesting, whimpering to his friend that maybe their long-awaited summer season wasn't quite here yet. Marcus wags it off, sniffing the air, not giving a single care in the world about anything except providing for their pack.

The werewolf decides he should probably do the same, as an abiding hunger in his stomach stuck out like a sore thumb in his thought process. It had been a while since they had dined on a good meal; Jools kept a decent amount of weak snacks and drinks in his manor, things like beef jerky and canned meats, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the hunger of his small pack. Recently he even made spaghetti, a food bringing Davie and the rest of the betas back to their human-dwelling days, but with a lack of good portions, they all went to bed without full stomachs.

A smell, however, a nose-wrenching smell of something like carrion hits him in the senses like the wind, and the werewolf halts to pick up the scent. He whimpers to the rest of the pack, who have seemed to skip over the scent and continue their search. Except whatever is in the black woods could be something useful for his pack; if it is, Jools would be grateful, and the alpha may suggest a way to lift his curse.

He darts into the woods like a sneaky criminal, following the sharp trail along the forest floor with his nose pinned to the ground. Davie weaves around trees and puddles, the wet mud sponging up the aroma, and soon he picks up on such a scent that he takes a long step back and growls. It fumigates of smelling surprisingly sick, bloodied, and reeking with a smell of female and humans. It's an injured bitch- a dog.

The gray wolf whimpers, bowing his head, cautious of a possible ambush from a rival clan, but the quiet forest still creaks with crickets and blowing trees. She's alone, out in the cold wind and rain. He pads along quietly up to the figure, getting a better glance.

The first thing she notices is that she is most definitely not a werewolf, for her breed which appears as a husky and german shepherd mix. With shockingly rich red fur and a cream muzzle and undertone, the canine is freakishly thin and absolutely frail, her ribs sticking out like a neon light sign in the night sky. She's surprisingly not a young wolf; her body is well grown, just tiny and weak, with little muscle and thin bones. Her gorgeous fur is matted down and sprayed with blood, her chest rising and falling slowly like she's in a deep, coma-like sleep. He sees her being perhaps a very lean and short human form if she would be a werewolf, instead of a pet dog of a human family.