A maned wolf chose the wrong season to displace herself far from her homeland. She stopped in a land where vegetation became sparse and rodents burrowed irregularly. Half her diet didn’t exist in these parts.
While scavenging around for fruit on an autumn day, Chrysocyon, an opportunist at any given moment, invited herself to the den of a real wolf. One with the official title of Lupus Canidae. And she knew this by the scent marks covering the area. Motivated more by hunger than fear, she traveled inward. A well preserved deer carcass waited patiently. Its neck had been broken cleanly by powerful jaws. Strategically placed incisions helped it bleed dry. This carcass would last three and a half days before expiration and there were still no bites. It had to have been placed there recently. Without further contemplation, Chrysocyon mauled at the carcass.
Once she had her fill, the plan was to escape. However, she had not such a fulfilling dinner in ages. Her stomach was heavy and her eyes ladened with sleep. Her body soon followed and she fell flaccid not far from the entrance.
Hours later, she awoke with a vague recollection of her location. Thirty seconds later she sat erect facing her opponent gnashing her teeth. Eyes narrowed, ears back, tail straight and crouched, she was ready for a FIGHT! He snarled and stood tall and stiff legged. He was asserting his dominance. Chrysocyon attacked, biting and clawing. She reared high and pinned the wolf. Shocked, the wolf finally began fighting back. Already having the lower hand, he had the stamina to pin the mixed haired dog but not enough to subdue her.
The wolf was sick and needed to retire earlier, but Chrysocyon wouldn’t let him go. He pinned her. She noted mydriasis of his eyes; adrenaline running high. He glared directly in her eyes and growled. It was no longer a fight but more a sensuous wrestle with pheromones flung around. He called the fight again, this time unable to breathe coherently.
Chrysocyon stayed near him, the eastern wolf called Lycaon. He took care of her physical needs and became receptive to her emotional needs. All the while, time passed and Chrysocyon became more importunate. More often she was pulling his coat, and prancing around pawing for his attention. She rolled over and whimpered. He didn’t want to sleep close either but would muzzle her, touch her nose, and bump sometimes while walking close. Did he already have a mate and was simply lonely? It was all too unclear. She pawed more and more often and refused meals sometimes. One all too clear night after letting her have her fill, he dragged her out and refused her re-entrance. She waited patiently without food or water for days that amounted to nearly two weeks before leaving with her head down and tail between her legs. Her doggie heart was torn and felt scraped across rocky concrete.
There were no callings for her to go anywhere and she didn’t want to return to her homeland. She was completely lost but headed homeward anyways. Much of her wanted to return to Lycaon and would make the journey to where ever he was. But instinct told her the journey would be fruitless.
On her journey, she re-encountered a wolf named Griseoalbus; Griz for short. Chrysocyon should have been ecstatic to see the one who’s pack accepted her as a brother the summer before, but she didn’t know her own emotions. Depression secretly owned her. Still lost, she took it upon herself to humbly follow him. It felt that any choice made in her state would just be fate acting maliciously; perhaps leading toward an ultimate low, and she would let it happen.
He soon returned to his pack. Again, she felt like family. Her days there were numbered, as were his. She took to occasional hibernating and her illness slowly seceded. Other days, she played and wrestled like any other canine, but the day came again where the two had to leave. Such a vacation was unprecedented during this season of scarcity but there were obligations to be met.
Unknown "Chienne" Calm
- 15 years, 10 months ago
