Risen to a Trial -- [ Open! ]

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/huj50k.jpg][atrb=style,text-align:justify; ] Dull in its waking, Azalea's mind was accosted by challenges and questions, each more deeply disturbing than the last. The unfamiliar scents of her surroundings flooded her nostrils, and the faint thrum of pain against her muscles was quickly giving way to a ravenous hunger that lurched at her belly and angrily demanded satisfaction. The stinging sensation of blood rushing back to once-crushed extremities seemed distant to the basic, mortal needs that she was now confronted with, and her hackles raised subconsciously – aggressively! – to the unsavory situation that presented her rousing form. In the simplest terms, she was not pleased. The river's bend boasted an interesting series of spindling rivulets, each reaching out towards her as if intelligently offering the wolf a drink of themselves in the face of her plight. Though the initial phases of her reclaimed consciousness left this to be largely ignored, the soothing trickle of water was not to be lost on her for more than a moment, and the taste; oh the taste. It was impeccably refreshing, sating her dire thirst as if she'd never had a bit of water before – and perhaps it was an embellishment of her cravings or a sincere oddity of this place, but it tasted deliciously sweet in stark contras to the sour caking of a dry mouth. For a moment her belly halted in its cries – deciding, perhaps, whether the water was enough – and Azalea allowed herself to inhale more deeply of the world around her. It was peculiar to wake up in a strange place, but the alleged maneater supposed herself lucky to even be alive if she'd actually been caught by humans. She couldn't remember. A ghostly miasma wrangled with the darkness, misting over the river banks and sweeping through the tall grasses and clawing branches of the marsh foliage. Illuminated by the moon, it drenched anything to be seen in a sort of sickly pallor that seemed vividly hinged upon the line between corporeal realities and something less tangible; less real. Too pained to be dreaming, she dismissed this quickly as stunningly earthly beauty, but it clung desperately to the sides of her mind like coagulating blood on her pelt. Irritating, yet intoxicating. Her analysis of the scents and oddities of her surroundings was cut immediately short to the offensive stench of rotting flesh, and finally her aureate gaze was discerning enough to lie upon the days old carcass of an otherwise untouched rabbit. It looked young and unbroken aside from the maggots and various other creepy-crawlies that now inhabited its figure, and so Azalea could only assume that it had been intended as a meal for her in her waking. How darling. This, however, also further roused those questions that demanded to know how long she'd actually been unconscious for. Her sense of scent assaulted by the rot and her hearing, already sensitive in her more fragile state, defeaned against the chattering hum of the evening's own brand of life, Azalea could only assume – hope – that she was alone. She snorted through her nostrils in disgust and, on wavering legs and weakened convictions, began to walk along the river bank to explore the new world at large.

[s.a.r.c.a.s.t.i.c.]

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[bg=111b28][atrb=style,text-align:justify; ] The large brute made his way slowly through the forest. He was meandering; he dare not go fast, nor stop completely, and so he strolled. His head cocked to the side, he allowed his ears to flop forward giving him a cute, innocent, deceiving appearance. His form moved gracefully, like a felines, as he walked through the forest. His deep green eyes were blank as they scanned the area around him. He was familiar with the area already. He was near the Rhomosa River, even at the thought of water, his throat began to ache. His paw steps came quicker now, not yet a trot, but the movement had a steady purpose that brought life to his muscles. The brute’s handsome form snaked through the trunks of trees that got in his way; his paws left large prints in the small covering of snow. He moved quietly, stealthily, as he knew naught of what went on closer to the river. The trees began to thin, and his manner changed, his ears prickled alertly, mouth open, tongue rolling; he was sure to use all of his senses to help him decide whether it was safe outside the cover of the trees. It wasn’t another wolf he was afraid of, no indeed. He had heard a few wolves of late talking about humans on the river banks, bringing strange creatures with them. He was a good fighter, and a fast runner, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have precautions. He picked up a trace of an aroma which he identified as another wolf. Finding no harm in that he trotted out, his head arrogantly cocked. His feet flicked out, he was strutting as usual. The male moved quickly, his long legs reaching out with big stride to carry him towards the water. As he reached the liquid, he dropped his head. The cold liquid, icy from the winter’s influence burned a cold trail down his throat. Shaking his head to and fro, he rid himself of the drops that clung to his broad muzzle. His thick, steely frame caught the liquid that dripped down his face. Turning away from the water, a figure in the distance came into sharp focus. Emerald eyes went slightly surprised before the emotion in them was cleaned. He felt as though he should alert the creature of his presence. The wolf that stood on the river bank and while away was correctly the one who he’d scent earlier. He voiced a low croon, not a loud howl, but enough of one to warn of his being. One ear end flopped, giving him a lopsided air as he studied the femme from a distance. The femme was darkly coloured, which was odd in these parts, thinking he would rather study her than continue on, he sat, muzzle slightly in the air, showing that he thought of himself in a higher power than her.

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/huj50k.jpg][atrb=style,text-align:justify; ] Howling tunes through mist-glazed nights were natural embellishments to human horror tales, and so perhaps there was a delicate irony to be appreciated when the cold, piercing call ran its course and ripped through Azalea's spine. It forced an immediate pause in her steps and a cold shudder, a hateful but wary bubbling of emotion trickling into her limbs with every rushed heartbeat. As they had done in her initial waking moments, thoughts and questions worryingly flooded the forefront of her mind and she questioned her earlier – perhaps foolish – notions of having been safely alone. There was a pointed lack of pungent, warning scent markers drifting through the air and her nose – quivering attentively and remoistened – continuously scouted the ground as she'd been walking for anything even faintly there. The rabbit had been rotted and yet untouched, and she had woken alone. She mused through the facts and wondered with vicious suspicion if the calling wolf had been watching her all this time – deciding on her reactions and testing her in the likeness to the very two-legged halfwits that brought her here. Her gaze was serious, and seemed to catch the moon just enough to be the luminous, predatory golden to match the other wolf's howl in traditional story. A still silence befell her and for what seemed like aeons, she only watched him and contemplated his stance and the necessity of any response to it. Solitary by nature, she was a dominant female and his posture tipped her immediate aggression, but she smoothed her hackles carefully and only left her ears to prick forward in physically displayed attentiveness and curiosity. Anything but submission. And then she sat in a slow and deliberate motion, ignoring the natural instinct to actually call back to him and forcing him, instead, to decide upon her with little else but his eyes. It was a welcoming gesture and a wary acceptance of his presence – she would not approach him and risk herself, but he was welcome to come closer and be of some potential use.

[s.a.r.c.a.s.t.i.c.]

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[bg=111b28][atrb=style,text-align:justify;] The male studied the femme carefully. His kissers pulled back into what would appropriately be called a smirk at her attentiveness. He saw her hackles lower and smugness seemed to come off of his pelt in arrogant waves. Though she did not display any submissive actions, this did not worry him. He rarely fought with females; they more or less just watched him with wide eyes. His lips twitched as if something humorous had crossed his mind, before they settled back into the correct frame of seriousness. The brute’s eyes watched her for a few moments, taking in her odd beauty. She seemed wilder than most, the defiance; though cute was frustrating. He did not low his gaze, he feared that she might mistake it as a submissive trait, so instead his eyes turned upwards. He watched the cloud roll over head, there seemed to be a storm brewing. The angry, purplish colour that hued the botten layers of the clouds told him that much. Deciding that he should once again challenge her to a battle of wills, his optics focused on her. The she-wolf seemed to be welcoming, not afraid of him, or whimpering for his attention. She sat, mimicking his movement, which was a shock to his system. This odd non-greeting did not sit well with Nuzu. He was used to femmes who knew their place, and who grovelled at his feet. His green gaze steely a low grumble left his throat. Who does she think she is? Sitting there all proud like. Look at her colouring she looks like a dog. Like a mutt. This change of events where she sat and waited for him did not sit well with him at all. The thought had been harsh he reflected but he had reached an interesting conclusion. His ear straightened, and twitched from the sharp crack of wood that sounded from the forest beyond. She cannot be from around these parts. I’m sure she would’ve heard of me as all the others do. And she does look like a cur the humans would have collected. For her fancy coat at least. Why is she here? If she had run off why would she be here? Why would she choose this place above others? The thoughts in his head were not displayed in his eyes; they hid his secrets well. A light breeze blew towards him, carrying the scent of rotten food. The wind blew away from the she wolf, and so Nuzu, the prick that he was, assumed that the stench came off of the femme. His head cocked, and his nose wrinkled in distaste, he allowed his lips to pull up over sharp canines; displaying his disapproval. Muscles tensed lightly as he stood, he strolled closer to the forest, refusing to go closer to the female if he did not come to him. He was a proud fool, but eventually he would give in. His ego was big, but not big enough to control his curiosity. Though, like the silly brute he was, he couldn’t keep his roving optics off of her and her oddities.

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/huj50k.jpg][atrb=style,text-align:justify; ] Interestingly enough and completely unbeknownst to either party, they were sizing one another up in similar ways and coming to equally similar conclusions. Dog, half-breed, mongrel – it all passed through her frantic thoughts as she considered her potential opponent and his too-large ears and obvious, haughty necessity to demonstrate and too apparently prove himself. Under normal circumstances, Azalea might have found this genuinely endearing in its futility, but the present situation bid her to find it only moderately annoying. Brewing storms in the darkness, her raging and demanding starvation and the sharp, cracking announcement of something else looming not too far off only reaffirmed her decided lack of time for his petty male ego. She growled back in response, knowing well enough that if she could hear his, then he could most certainly hear her otherwise wordless but damning reply. If he wasn't going to play and he wasn't going to speak, then she was at a loss for what he wanted from her? Why had he called? Was this a trap? Suspicion demanded she watch him circle in closer to the treeline rather than turning away and ignoring his presence altogether, and she spitefully considered the impasse as an obstacle between her hungry body and potentially catching a meal. Their eye contact, constant and unwavering, made it all the stranger when the she-wolf abruptly stood up, something of a half-cry emerging from her throat in warning and her eyes widening in unsuspecting concern for the aggressively prideful fool. A careful look might have noted that Azalea was no longer looking at the male, but instead at something behind him; something that lifted her gaze high above its former point of focus. Something massive. When the snarling, dominating roar of a grizzly boomed through the darkness, it was only to accompany the heavy, multi-taloned paw that now swept down towards the male wolf's comparably small body.

[s.a.r.c.a.s.t.i.c.]

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[bg=111b28][atrb=style,text-align:justify;] At her growl which did little to intimidate him, he prickled his ears. His attention had been so focused on the femme; he had not been listening to the world around him. Time seemed to slow; he prickled his ears, and watched the females feral eyes go from his to something above him. He was about to ask (with a strong amount of exasperation) what she was starring at, when she bolted on to her feet. There was a look on her face, that once had been cold and beautiful, now thundered a warm and vibrant RUN. The sound that leapt from her throat was not a fully formed noise, only sounds to warn, but Nuzu was already turning. His mind was racing, like thoroughbred lathered at the finish it whipped through the possibilities. His mind came to two quick conclusions. Either a bear... or a human. The rumble, so loud and so close answered that doubt. Nuzu leapt forward, his form launching into the air quickly, but not quickly enough. His ears, now tuned for the sound heard the rushing of air through fur. His eyes widened once, fear perhaps changing their normal size, before the emerald depths spit pain. The bear’s paw, aimed for shattering his ribs landed on his haunches instead. The creatures claws passed harmlessly threw Nuzu’s overcoat before slicing five, four inch long gashes down the inside of his leg. The masculine bit back a whimper of pain, as the force of the blow sent his muscular form flying. He flew for a instant, it seemed to last longer. As his frame crashed against the ground, he fought with himself to stay awake and thinking. The bear’s heavy footsteps alerted the male to its lumbering presence that continued to follow him. Nuzu heaved himself to his feet, the pain flooding his form replaced with white hot rage. Emerald eyes spitting fire, they narrowed into dangerous slits. Of course he knew he couldn’t take on a grizzly that size by himself, but obviously he was not thinking clearly. Adrenaline cascaded through his muscles, making him tremble with the suppressed urge to kill, slaughter and maim this beast before him. The bear’s forepaw crashed towards him again, but his form dodged the hit. The bear reared back on to its hind legs, swatting at Nuzu as if swatting at an annoying fly. Nuzu dodged the hits, his wounded leg burned like fire. Orbs focused on the enemy in combat with a anger so hot it was cold gaze. The wolf, which was easily dwarfed by the bear, seemed to dance. There was a graceful taint to the way the battlers moved. Each step was precise, for that could be the difference between life and death. A fixed snarl of rage was struck on his formerly handsome face, and like the hunter he was, he waited patiently for the moment that would tip the balance.

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/huj50k.jpg][atrb=style,text-align:justify; ] The interesting thing about bears was that, for the most part, they were extremely solitary – even shy – creatures in spite of their great size. Hulking, brutish, and certainly prone and capable of serious, damaging aggression, they rarely bothered anyone unless there were cubs or food nearby – whether that food was alive, dead, or wolf cubs. The result was that many wolves saw them as fleeting ghosts or caught their drifting, stolen scents on a passing breeze; just enough to claim they existed at all, but generally allowing of an entire lifetime without incident. The bear, lumbering and yet fast and angry, seemed like the monster that Azalea had once been rumored to be – an apparition manifested into a physical form, bent on vengeance for a crime no one could fathom or remember. In the dim moonlight its eyes glittered like gemstones against a hematite backing, and its foam-slathered mouth glistened to more appropriately boast the horrible, carnal image of its massive fangs. Their maws were not quite so different than a wolf's own, but it was so much bigger, and it was such a case that size really did matter. Unpredicted and difficult to manage for an already strained body and an even more taxed mental state, Azalea could only watch in a mixture of awe and horror for the first few seconds of the male's most recent ordeal. Her thoughts fluttered over the intensity of the bear's fury as it tossed the other wolf like a ragdoll and the scent of blood – and the faintest whimper of pain – flooded the humid air, and then further to the sheer stupidity of the male who thought to stand his ground against what was, for all intents and purposes, a pillar – a titan – of strength and resolve. It had been six months since she had last seen another wolf, and now she had been abruptly relocated and thrust into a situation where she was forced to contemplate putting her life on the line for a stranger. It was a social predicament in which she pointedly did not delight, and yet she had all of the wisdoms to manage the very plain conclusion: she needed him. .. Even if only to live for a while longer, and die to blood loss later. A cold rationale, but rationale nonetheless. And so although Azalea was exhausted beyond belief and sent through dizzying spells in the face of her nauseating hunger, the bear would lift its paw as if to smack down again at Nuzu only to sharply lower down to the ground and spin away from its first prey and quarry. The female, comparably smaller but managing significant force behind her more delicate body – would be seen as the bear turned frantically, her body latched onto a shoulder haunch, gripping with her teeth to just barely break the thick hide. She salivated hungrily to the sweet taste of blood, but knew in conscious earnest that killing the larger predator wasn't the goal. They just had to convince the thing that neither of them were worth the effort or injury. Uninterested in pressing her luck too far, the bear's spinning was rewarded with Azalea releasing her bite and dropping to the ground to skitter just out of any immediate reach. Her teeth were bared, her ears pinned back and her hackles raised to their very ends in a menacing threat meant to either provoke or to inspire fear. Though she didn't dare to look at the male wolf now – her eyes transfixed on every movement of the temporarily paused attacker – and though they hardly had any meaning to one another as pack, she hoped he understood well enough to take the opportunity of the bear's now presented backside.

[s.a.r.c.a.s.t.i.c.]

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[bg=111b28][atrb=style,text-align:justify;] Nuzu continued to dance with the bear. He paid no mind to the femme that had caught his attention only moments before. Honestly, he believed she’d left. He was a loner, he paid his respects to some of those who passed his by but he didn’t immediately assume that the other wolves would help him. He hated to owe others, and he knew he’d gotten himself into his own mess. His leg was throbbing painfully, but he pushed this thought to the back of his mind. He knew if he concentrated on the pain, it would only get worse. He dodged again, his body having to move quickly to be able to get out of the way fast enough. The bear seemed to lose interest after that hit, it turned away from Nuzu, and it seemed like the bear was running in circles. More than a little confused, Nuzu watched the bear closely. A dark frame was clinging to one of the bear’s shoulders. From the wet patch that was forming around the wolf’s mouth, her fangs had broken the skin. He was surprised to say the least when he saw her hanging there. He knew two wolves would never be able to take down a grizzly of this size, but he also knew that a little bit more harrying and the beast would lumber off the leave them alone. The she-wolf unhooked her jaws and slipped down the bears shoulder, she slipped out of the bears range. Nuzu was placed behind the bear. With a leap that made his leg sting his jaws clamped down around the grizzly’s legs. He bit hard, sharp canines slicing flesh. His paws scrabbled at the matted flank of the bear. An enraged roar rumbled from the creature. It whipped its body back and forth. The bear seemed to be making its way back towards the forest, but its motions were indecisive. With one last clamp, the masculine, Nuzu, dropped to the ground, he skipped away from the bears swat. The bear looked from one wolf to the other, Nuzu could almost see the wheels turning in the animals head as it wondered if the two wolves were worth it.

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[atrb=background,http://i52.tinypic.com/huj50k.jpg][atrb=style,text-align:justify; ] Wheels that were spinning, twirling, whirling indecisively within as it judged its opponents with appropriately vicious scrutiny. The bear, a certain match in any actual wrangling with either wolf, was limited by the very size that made it so terrifying, and consequently left to the mercies of the canine agility it faced as a result. Agility and prowess. Azalea took note, albeit one of silence. Again the bear would rush, this time seemingly aware of the futility of the action and merely proving a point; making them jump to sate and console wounded pride. Azalea could only snap her jaws in response and pant a predatory grin, her heaving breath matched against her comparably delicate frame dodging just barely away from the ragged claws of the lumbering attacker. To judge or to notice the playful tone behind her antics – impish if they were to be described accurately at all – would certainly leave one to wonder if she were keeping so close in her movements out of play and some aggravating urge to rub salt in the proverbial wound. The bear groaned again, venting its frustrations against ragged breaths before turning to steal away into the darkness from whence it came. As the ghost that had formed so rapidly, suddenly, immediately onto the scene, it was just as quickly to disappear. The she-wolf watched it go, licking the last remnants of blood and excitedly frothed saliva off of her muzzle as her hackles smoothed and her ears found their rightful placement to the responsive calm. For a few moments she took the pause necessary to let her heart rate slow and her expression settle, and it was only once her composure had been properly reestablished that she glanced almost lazily towards her impromptu ally and flicked an ear to the sudden awareness of his presence. The scent of blood still stained the air, different than the bear's own and most certainly not hers. Though her exhaustion was beginning to nag again in the face of a waning adrenaline, Azalea was capably coherent enough to be politely concerned. "You'll live?" It was a demand on the seriousness of his obvious wounding rather than an inquiry on his general well-being. Perhaps he'd think it rude, but the thought didn't occur to her until after she'd asked.

[s.a.r.c.a.s.t.i.c.]

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[bg=111b28][atrb=style,text-align:justify;] The bear was lumbering back and forth. Nuzu swayed unsteadily on his feet, watching the bear with a fixed snarl on his jaws. The beasts size seemed to be hampering it, for the rocks, bush, and trees around it caused its speed to lessen and it to tire of this awkward game it played with the two wolves. The bear rushed forward once more, stumbling slightly on the environment around it before it came to a halt and growled. It seemed to be trying to prove something, but Nuzu, weak and tired as he was, couldn’t be bothered to think about it more carefully, though he guessed the bear was prideful, like himself, and for some odd reason he found that funny. The snarl dropped from his lips, and the bear disappeared as silently and as mysteriously as it had come. The male slumped to the ground. He paid no mind to the femme that was mere paces away. He noted that the only serious damage done to him had been done by the bear’s claws on his back leg. He licked his injury clean, before pressing the wound against the cold layer of snow. The cleaning had make the wound sluggishly bleed again, but with the cold of the snow on it, it soon slowed to a trickle and then all together. "You'll live?" The femme’s voice was current, almost demanding that the male would survive. He propped himself up carefully, sure not to aggravate and open the still scabbing wound afresh. Nuzu, the silly male that he was stirred up a cocky smirk. “A little scratch like that wouldn’t do me in.” His eyes gleamed, their emerald depths in an oddly good humour. One of his ears flopped over, giving him a youngsters air.