Suspended
Quote from Adriana on January 3, 2025, 2:40 pmChapman's ears went up at the sound of the hunter's dog crying out!
Now he peered around the tree and cursed inwardly to see Harvey moving in the direction of whoever had taken his animal. From the lack of scent, he quickly deduced they were from the mountain. He didn't hesitate - he pulled the pin from the cylinder and tossed it!
"Book it, kid!" he shouted, in a voice a werewolf would understand!
The cylinder, landing not a yard in front of Harvey, let out a cloud, and a powerful odor followed. It was tear gas, and was sure to affect any man or beast--werewolves included--that inhaled it!
Chapman's ears went up at the sound of the hunter's dog crying out!
Now he peered around the tree and cursed inwardly to see Harvey moving in the direction of whoever had taken his animal. From the lack of scent, he quickly deduced they were from the mountain. He didn't hesitate - he pulled the pin from the cylinder and tossed it!
"Book it, kid!" he shouted, in a voice a werewolf would understand!
The cylinder, landing not a yard in front of Harvey, let out a cloud, and a powerful odor followed. It was tear gas, and was sure to affect any man or beast--werewolves included--that inhaled it!
Quote from Kaqurei on January 3, 2025, 6:49 pmBig enough to be a man, but still a child. That's what the 17 year old boy was, even in werewolf form. 35 pounds of whippet-hound was scarcely a load to slow him down. The dog was light as a feather. He had her in his comparatively gigantic jaws, secured around the neck behind the skull so that she could not bite. She could thrash, and would, but her position was precarious, and his coat was thick.
Harvey was up on him furiously now, as the young werewolf intended. He knew the hunter would not abandon his dog, no matter how easy the prey before him had been.
But he was still thinking like a child, to whom the concepts of danger and pain were real but death was an abstract to which only others were subject. He did not truly know the depth of darkness that could swallow a human heart, nor the realities into which he leapt.
If he took a moment to think, perhaps the sickening realization would come to him that the dog had been a tool in ending many lives like his, and now that he had her, he could not let her go. Nor could he keep her captive, for she would make noise that would draw their pursuers as long as she lived.
He did not think. He only ran.
Big enough to be a man, but still a child. That's what the 17 year old boy was, even in werewolf form. 35 pounds of whippet-hound was scarcely a load to slow him down. The dog was light as a feather. He had her in his comparatively gigantic jaws, secured around the neck behind the skull so that she could not bite. She could thrash, and would, but her position was precarious, and his coat was thick.
Harvey was up on him furiously now, as the young werewolf intended. He knew the hunter would not abandon his dog, no matter how easy the prey before him had been.
But he was still thinking like a child, to whom the concepts of danger and pain were real but death was an abstract to which only others were subject. He did not truly know the depth of darkness that could swallow a human heart, nor the realities into which he leapt.
If he took a moment to think, perhaps the sickening realization would come to him that the dog had been a tool in ending many lives like his, and now that he had her, he could not let her go. Nor could he keep her captive, for she would make noise that would draw their pursuers as long as she lived.
He did not think. He only ran.
Quote from Mae on January 3, 2025, 9:40 pmIt was unfortunate timing, for both of them.
Danny was an old dog. She'd done battle with werewolves since she was two years old. She was trained to fight and escape any number of situations. But a hard fight for a young dog was a thrash and some torn flesh. A hard fight for an old dog was a thrash and a broken neck. Fortunately for Danny, her heart gave out, and she died in Levi's jaws before he even knew she'd gone limp.
As for Al, he'd stayed behind. There was two things he was unquestionably good at; one, was watching Harvey's back. The other, was hitting his mark. When the large werewolf called out to the young one, he took aim. And when he threw the silver canister, Al fired.
It was unfortunate timing, for both of them.
Danny was an old dog. She'd done battle with werewolves since she was two years old. She was trained to fight and escape any number of situations. But a hard fight for a young dog was a thrash and some torn flesh. A hard fight for an old dog was a thrash and a broken neck. Fortunately for Danny, her heart gave out, and she died in Levi's jaws before he even knew she'd gone limp.
As for Al, he'd stayed behind. There was two things he was unquestionably good at; one, was watching Harvey's back. The other, was hitting his mark. When the large werewolf called out to the young one, he took aim. And when he threw the silver canister, Al fired.
Quote from Adriana on January 3, 2025, 11:18 pmIt was by the skin of his teeth, or the silver furs on his back, that Chapman narrowly avoided certain death. For the moment the canister left his hand, he dropped down low on his good arm and barreled forward into the smokescreen!
Under the moon, the haze consumed him, and his silver fur was concealed. But when the teargas hit his eyes, nose and lungs, he could barely withhold the cough. He had only the visual of Harvey’s last location to go off of, as sight was becoming rapidly impaired, and beneath the acrid odor of the teargas, no scent could be followed.
He stifled a cough into his arms and continued towards the hunter…
It was by the skin of his teeth, or the silver furs on his back, that Chapman narrowly avoided certain death. For the moment the canister left his hand, he dropped down low on his good arm and barreled forward into the smokescreen!
Under the moon, the haze consumed him, and his silver fur was concealed. But when the teargas hit his eyes, nose and lungs, he could barely withhold the cough. He had only the visual of Harvey’s last location to go off of, as sight was becoming rapidly impaired, and beneath the acrid odor of the teargas, no scent could be followed.
He stifled a cough into his arms and continued towards the hunter…
Quote from Kaqurei on January 4, 2025, 11:04 amLevi ran fast, but he did not want Harvey to lose him. Not yet. Chapman was still behind, still injured. He still needed help. Harvey would follow the one who took his dog, but would the other hunters follow their leader?
How many hunters were there? Levi didn't know. He hadn't been expecting to find hunters. But it was the full moon, so he assumed they were most certainly expecting to find werewolves. So far from the pack's location. And how could they have known they would find Chapman? The older werewolf had been in a vehicle the last time Levi had seen him, so he would not have been laying tracks for them to follow. Was it possible they knew who he was, where he had gone, and had laid a trap for him? Did they, in fact, already know where the pack denned?
Last time he had faced them, there were many hunters, positioned strategically to prevent escape. He remembered their names, their voices, faces, and their scents. Things he had learned about them and their operations with Sabrina when Jackie and Ulric had been captured.
But being clothed in the Phantom Herb had a very specific drawback: he was as noseblind to scents around him as other canids were to him, and human nostrils could smell it just fine. Many months he had practiced with it, and learned to rely more on his sight and his ears with his nose impaired. But now he kept his body low in the underbrush, neither to see, nor to be seen, and he maneuvered through increasingly dense woods so that it would be harder for hunters to take a clear shot.
After his initial sprint to put a cushion of distance between himself and Harvey, he switched to slower, more precise movements to travel soundlessles and disturb the surrounding vegetation as little as possible. It was only then that he realized the dog wasn't fighting.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he ducked behind a large tree, both to listen if he was pursued, and to check on the dog. But he already knew. He'd hunted enough rabbits to know. His breath was already wheezing a high pitched whine due to his throat and nasal passages constricting with emotion.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, laying her gently at the roots of the massive tree. "I'm so sorry." His heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest, ears swivelling about for sounds even as he was trying to understand what had happened, what he had done, how the dog could have just died, just like that.
He took a big sniff and wiped his nose with the back of his arm, swiped off his tears with his wolf-like fingers. He had to keep moving. Circle back. Avoid Harvey. Spot hunters. Find Chapman.
Levi ran fast, but he did not want Harvey to lose him. Not yet. Chapman was still behind, still injured. He still needed help. Harvey would follow the one who took his dog, but would the other hunters follow their leader?
How many hunters were there? Levi didn't know. He hadn't been expecting to find hunters. But it was the full moon, so he assumed they were most certainly expecting to find werewolves. So far from the pack's location. And how could they have known they would find Chapman? The older werewolf had been in a vehicle the last time Levi had seen him, so he would not have been laying tracks for them to follow. Was it possible they knew who he was, where he had gone, and had laid a trap for him? Did they, in fact, already know where the pack denned?
Last time he had faced them, there were many hunters, positioned strategically to prevent escape. He remembered their names, their voices, faces, and their scents. Things he had learned about them and their operations with Sabrina when Jackie and Ulric had been captured.
But being clothed in the Phantom Herb had a very specific drawback: he was as noseblind to scents around him as other canids were to him, and human nostrils could smell it just fine. Many months he had practiced with it, and learned to rely more on his sight and his ears with his nose impaired. But now he kept his body low in the underbrush, neither to see, nor to be seen, and he maneuvered through increasingly dense woods so that it would be harder for hunters to take a clear shot.
After his initial sprint to put a cushion of distance between himself and Harvey, he switched to slower, more precise movements to travel soundlessles and disturb the surrounding vegetation as little as possible. It was only then that he realized the dog wasn't fighting.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he ducked behind a large tree, both to listen if he was pursued, and to check on the dog. But he already knew. He'd hunted enough rabbits to know. His breath was already wheezing a high pitched whine due to his throat and nasal passages constricting with emotion.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, laying her gently at the roots of the massive tree. "I'm so sorry." His heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest, ears swivelling about for sounds even as he was trying to understand what had happened, what he had done, how the dog could have just died, just like that.
He took a big sniff and wiped his nose with the back of his arm, swiped off his tears with his wolf-like fingers. He had to keep moving. Circle back. Avoid Harvey. Spot hunters. Find Chapman.
Quote from Mae on January 4, 2025, 12:47 pmDanny represented an investment to Harvey; an investment of time, money, and effort. It was convenient to work with a dog that had been by his side for fifteen years, a dog that knew more about how to outmaneuver a werewolf than any other dog alive. It made him proud to have a dog like Danny, a dog that was smart and fast and responsive to every subtlety of his character. But at the end of the day, Danny was still a dog; a hunting dog that had one specific purpose; a hunting dog that had very few hunts left in her. Harvey was never going to take Danny to die in a veterinarian's office.
The bottom line was that Harvey didn't value Danny's life above his own. When he heard Al's shot ring in his left ear, he spat a curse and dodged right, rolling to get clear of the gas. Still, he caught the outer mist in his throat when he looked over his left shoulder.
Al fired again, three times. That was as many shots as he could get off in the time and distance that it would take Chapman to overtake Harvey.
Al didn't have many virtues. He didn't have a career, a family, or many friends. What he did have was deadly good aim. Harvey always had Al watching his back in the field, but never asked him to fire. The reason was simple: Harvey typically tried to keep his query alive; a dispatched werewolf had a very short shelf life, and Al's shot had but one purpose: To save a hunter's life in a tight situation he had to be fast and precise; an inch was the difference between a hunter's life and a werewolf. In short, Al's job was to watch and kill only when necessary.
In this situation, it didn't matter how good Al's aim was. In the seconds that unfolded between his first shot and his last, Al mapped the speed of the werewolf from it's last known location to Harvey's. It didn't matter if it was going that direction. The fastest route from point A to point B was a straight line, and with Harvey's life on point B, Al filled the line to point A with bullets.
Danny represented an investment to Harvey; an investment of time, money, and effort. It was convenient to work with a dog that had been by his side for fifteen years, a dog that knew more about how to outmaneuver a werewolf than any other dog alive. It made him proud to have a dog like Danny, a dog that was smart and fast and responsive to every subtlety of his character. But at the end of the day, Danny was still a dog; a hunting dog that had one specific purpose; a hunting dog that had very few hunts left in her. Harvey was never going to take Danny to die in a veterinarian's office.
The bottom line was that Harvey didn't value Danny's life above his own. When he heard Al's shot ring in his left ear, he spat a curse and dodged right, rolling to get clear of the gas. Still, he caught the outer mist in his throat when he looked over his left shoulder.
Al fired again, three times. That was as many shots as he could get off in the time and distance that it would take Chapman to overtake Harvey.
Al didn't have many virtues. He didn't have a career, a family, or many friends. What he did have was deadly good aim. Harvey always had Al watching his back in the field, but never asked him to fire. The reason was simple: Harvey typically tried to keep his query alive; a dispatched werewolf had a very short shelf life, and Al's shot had but one purpose: To save a hunter's life in a tight situation he had to be fast and precise; an inch was the difference between a hunter's life and a werewolf. In short, Al's job was to watch and kill only when necessary.
In this situation, it didn't matter how good Al's aim was. In the seconds that unfolded between his first shot and his last, Al mapped the speed of the werewolf from it's last known location to Harvey's. It didn't matter if it was going that direction. The fastest route from point A to point B was a straight line, and with Harvey's life on point B, Al filled the line to point A with bullets.
Quote from Adriana on January 4, 2025, 2:10 pmThe haze had begun to clear. The old Alpha did not appear to stand, nor did he cough for the thick, burning gas in his lungs..
The haze had begun to clear. The old Alpha did not appear to stand, nor did he cough for the thick, burning gas in his lungs..
Quote from Kaqurei on January 4, 2025, 7:21 pmLevi heard the first shot, and everything stopped. He froze. He felt like the whole world did too. It felt like an eternity between that first shot and the ones that followed. By the second, he was moving again. Before the last echos of the last faded into the night, he had returned to the edge of the clearing, crouching so low he was upon his belly, hiding in the tall grass below the trees.
Through blurred vision at the men who stood and the wolf who did not.
His diversion had amounted to nothing but a dead dog. Anger, pain, disbelief. Shock. Denial. But he could do nothing but watch.
Levi heard the first shot, and everything stopped. He froze. He felt like the whole world did too. It felt like an eternity between that first shot and the ones that followed. By the second, he was moving again. Before the last echos of the last faded into the night, he had returned to the edge of the clearing, crouching so low he was upon his belly, hiding in the tall grass below the trees.
Through blurred vision at the men who stood and the wolf who did not.
His diversion had amounted to nothing but a dead dog. Anger, pain, disbelief. Shock. Denial. But he could do nothing but watch.
Quote from Mae on January 4, 2025, 10:03 pmHarvey coughed and grimaced through the pain, collecting himself through half-eyed attempts to see the werewolf.
Al kept his rifle aimed at the heap in the grass as he came down a few steps closer to Harvey.
"Ain't your big one." Al said, spitting out his tobacco. "Bout had your name on it, though, hm, Herv?"Harvey choked and stumbled back before he began to regain his composure. He panted, glaring at the downed animal and then called out into the woods. "Danny!" He shouted. He blew a shrill whistle.
A cold autumn silence answered... dark, gloamy trees under a pale moon gave no reply.
"Come on, Danny! Daddys callin' fer ya." Al called out good naturedly.
Again, no answer came.
Harvey wiped his face and tried again in vain to clear his airways. "Put a bullet in it's head and lets get after the other one." He said.
Harvey coughed and grimaced through the pain, collecting himself through half-eyed attempts to see the werewolf.
Al kept his rifle aimed at the heap in the grass as he came down a few steps closer to Harvey.
"Ain't your big one." Al said, spitting out his tobacco. "Bout had your name on it, though, hm, Herv?"
Harvey choked and stumbled back before he began to regain his composure. He panted, glaring at the downed animal and then called out into the woods. "Danny!" He shouted. He blew a shrill whistle.
A cold autumn silence answered... dark, gloamy trees under a pale moon gave no reply.
"Come on, Danny! Daddys callin' fer ya." Al called out good naturedly.
Again, no answer came.
Harvey wiped his face and tried again in vain to clear his airways. "Put a bullet in it's head and lets get after the other one." He said.
Quote from Mae on January 4, 2025, 10:41 pmAl didn't know why Harvey didn't just shoot the downed wolf himself, since he still had his rifle in hand. It wasn't like him. But he lifted and aimed his rifle for a secure shot in compliance. Then, a sound came up from behind the hunters that made them both turn and look. It was the squeal and whine of a dog in the black thickets and woods by the road. It wasn't the direction they'd seen the other werewolf go, but it could have circled around them.
Harvey gripped his gun and took off. Al forgot about the dead werewolf in favor of keeping an eye on Harvey's back, and the two sprinted off together.
Al didn't know why Harvey didn't just shoot the downed wolf himself, since he still had his rifle in hand. It wasn't like him. But he lifted and aimed his rifle for a secure shot in compliance. Then, a sound came up from behind the hunters that made them both turn and look. It was the squeal and whine of a dog in the black thickets and woods by the road. It wasn't the direction they'd seen the other werewolf go, but it could have circled around them.
Harvey gripped his gun and took off. Al forgot about the dead werewolf in favor of keeping an eye on Harvey's back, and the two sprinted off together.
