He should've known. From the moment he left Jaks alone, S'ric should've known something was going to happen. For all the times the werewolf was vigilant, the one time he wasn't cost him. And Jaks. His elf. The one soul in the world that S'ric actually felt responsible save for his own. The one soul in the world that he actually wanted safe, the one he didn't want to be hurt. At least, not by anyone other than himself. The hunting had been slow. He was tired, and because of it his first meal had been fish. They were easier to catch, but hardly filling. He'd practically flopped in the water at first, until snapping a few of the dry meated pray down. Which woke his hunger, roused him to actually chase down a buck.
S'ric had devoured the whole thing, bones, fur, and all. That gave him enough energy to hunt for down three rabbits, a doe, one unlucky vulture, and a lynx. All of which didn't compare to how filling the bear was. By the time S'ric was not only full, but actually –not- hungry, the whole of the forest had settled into terrified silence around him. Such was the way of it when he moved into new places. Even the birds learned they were on his menu. If S'ric could catch it, it was fair game. Of course, all this hunting took over the better part of a night and into the morning. Ready to curl up and sleep, which he'd yet to do, S'ric had wandered into the clearing he'd left his elf. Only to find he was gone. Even though his was tired, the anger that shot through him didn't care. The first thought was that Jaks had run again.
Ten minutes of sniffing around told him otherwise.
His scent was just... gone. As thought he'd never left. Only the area S'ric had left him was marked, letting the werewolf know that he wasn't crazy. Jaks had been here... and now he wasn't. Not only that, but there was absolutely no scent trail. None. Not even one that suggested he'd been carried off. Of course, S'ric wasn't daft enough to think that Jaks had managed to wipe himself off the werewolf's radar. Which meant someone else had.
Someone else had taken Jaks. His elf.
All of S'ric bristled at the thought. Sleep was no longer a wish, not even a possibility. Someone had Jaks. Someone had taken him from S'ric. And he was going to be very angry when he finally found them. The lack of a scent trail didn't deter the werewolf, but it did slow him down. Starting where he'd left Jaks, S'ric began to search in steadily expanding circles. There would be a hint of where they went. Something. Broken branches, footprints, scuffed leaves, pressed foliage where they made camp... S'ric wasn't just a wolf, he was a human. He knew what to look for that some animal might miss. And while he wasn't the best at finding footprints, the drag marks were noticeable.
Which led him to where the camp had been. Even though he'd followed such an obvious visible trail, he still smelt nothing. As though he was purposefully being deterred. So be it. He followed the much more obvious trail the campers had taken, the going slow just because he didn't want to lose the trail.
Then, as though he'd stepped through some invisible barrier, the smells returned. Jaks. He'd paused, sorting through the smells, cataloguing, remembering, and filtering through the plethora of scents around. Horses. Men. Humans. Something... decidedly not... and his elf. With a growl, his slow pace turned into a run through the woods. With his nose to guide him, still in his very large wolf form, the ground fell beneath him in a blur. For S'ric, who had yet to sleep, he kept this rapid pace up until he came to the second camp. They were still ahead of him by some lengths...
Ignoring the strain it cost him, and the deep pants required to actually get enough air, S'ric ran some more. Anger added to his stamina, and while most would've cooled off after so long, so tiring a journey, it just pissed him off all the more.
By nightfall on the second day, he found them. A couple were out and about, clearly the lookout, while the others were nestled in tents. Since he was down wind, on purpose, the horses didn't know he was here. Nestled amongst some thick brambles, S'ric caught his breath, black fur blending into the encroaching twilight. Jaks was there. Somewhere. His whole body was tense with anticipation despite the running it'd taken him to get here. The strain would cost him once the anger wore down. For now though, it was fuel enough.
Horses were like alarms when attacking camps of men. There was no way to effectively silence them without alerting the men, and they would rouse the whole camp. Good. His bloodlust was peeked. There were the unfortunate souls that had taken something that belonged to him. And he fully intended on killing them to make sure it never happened again. The running, the wear and tear he'd endured up to this point had left his human side buried deep within the beast, giving himself over to animalistic purpose to find them. This also meant he didn't even try to plan a better course of action other than: kill them all. The wolf in him could settle for no less.
With minimal energy, body pained from the run, and mental state rather frayed when it came to humanity, S'ric leapt from the brush to land on one of the men. His weight crumble his frail human bones, producing a sickening crunch before he hopped from that body to the next. That's all he got before the horses freaked. Even though they'd been tied to trees, they reared and screamed, alerting everyone in the vicinity that he was there.
S'ric wasted no time, barreling into a tent just as someone was trying to come out. The canvas provided little protection as S'ric tore into it, and the man it contained. He wasn't even sure what his claws sank into, but he pulled back with a power none of the human men could match... and promptly threw part of the man's ribs and spine off to the side. The smell of blood fueled his ire.
His ears pressed flat to his skull, ignoring the animal's shrieks, before turning to the nearest man. Drawing back lips to reveal glistening canines, S'ric lunged.
*****
He was so very close to breaking. Another morning, another day... so very little time, and before she knew it, this elf would be a trained slave ready to be whisked off to market. She'd watched and felt the steady deterioration of him, judged the way he responded. Never had Seinya had a pet that gave in so easily. He hated pain though, more than he hated anything she made him do. Which happened to be unlucky for him, as she often used that as a motivator.
It thrilled her more so to learn he healed so rapidly, quickly becoming a clean slate for her to work with. Physically, of course. Mentally, he bore each welt, each release, as something fatal. Breaking down what little resistance he had. Breaking him.
Seinya loved every minute of it. The deterioration turned her on more than anything else. Her exact control over him, the way she could make him respond to her, was a heady addiction. This was the whole reason she was a slaver. Not the profit, but the 'work'.
Poised over Jaks, Seinya was more involved this time than any other. Why? Because he'd soon lose all of who he was, and that was such wonderful motivation. Who knows, maybe by the end of this night, he'd be broken. The she-devil could certainly try. Next, she could...
The horses outside screamed. Normally, this would be cause enough for her to poke her head out. But she was busy, and in wasn't all that rare that one of the men pissed off one of the horses. When his fingers dug into her hips, Seinya impaled herself harder. She liked the stronger grip. The she-devil leaned forward, hands to either side of his head, as she panted softly. He was closed off, trying to save what was left. He looked gorgeous so... violated. So broken. Feeling close to her own end, Seinya groaned just as Jaks growled.
Wait.
She looked down at him. He wasn't growling. Frowning, her attention wandered to the tent opening. The largest wolf head she'd ever seen had pushed aside the fabric. Though she couldn't see any of his body, if the head was any indicator, the beast was big. So... this was the werewolf. He was growling, crystal blue eyes very much intent on her, with lips pulled back to reveal long, bloodied fangs.
***
After the first tent, he'd not destroyed any others. Rather, he'd peek in, trying to find Jaks. He couldn't go collapsing tents if Jaks happened to be in one. Doing so had earned him cut to his head that had nearly taken off his whole ear, and would've cut into his skull had he not ducked. The man had been waiting, rather than running out to fight with his other companions. He died just as quickly when S'ric's large clawed hand reached in, dragging him close so he could bite one end of the man, such as his face, before pulling his legs with his claws. The human flailed until his neck snapped and his head came off. Which S'ric promptly crushed before moving on.
Just as he was about to duck into another small tent, some sound... a very familiar sound, drew his attention. Of course, this meant that some man was able to actually stab him. He'd been stalking toward the sound of Jaks when the blade was pushed into his back. Had he not been frayed and tired, he'd have heard the man. Luckily, the mundane weapon wasn't going to cause any lasting damage. Whipping around, the blade lodged is his upper back, S'ric racked the man with a claw, pulling him close with the other, and promptly biting down on his shoulder. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he applied enough pressure to crush his collarbone and shoulder, sinking his fangs in, before pulling away. Flesh and bone was pulled off the human, who didn't even get to scream before he crushed his neck.
With the sword still in his back, producing a dull ache, S'ric finally made it to the tent he thought... He pushed his head in, and went rigid. Mostly out of sheer fury. It was one thing to take what was his, it was another to hurt, mark, and claim it. Growling, he managed not to simply leap at her. Jaks was beneath her, and he looked... S'ric didn't even want to focus on that right now. Couldn't. He was already as pissed as he was going to get.
Crossing the space in the span of a breath, he pulled the woman off, twisting to pin her to the floor. He didn't end it quickly, but rather, pressed most of his upper body weight to her neck. She drove some metal instrument against his arm... and his vision blurred for the briefest of moments as sharp pain, more than he'd felt in quite some time, shot up his appendage. The muscles protested, ached, and threatened to give... but the smell of the woman, the knowledge that she'd taken something from him, dulled that protest to a whimper in the back of his mind. The agony flared across his chest, threatening his already adrenalin spiked heart, causing a pain there he'd only felt when someone had tried to carve it out of him. S'ric shivered at the depth of the sensation, caught between the sickeningly sweet pleasure of it.... and the sheer defiance it took not to pull away.
It was a silent battle between the pain she created in him, and the air he denied her.
Unfortunately for the woman, S'ric was too angry, too... stubborn, to pull away. Even as he felt the left half of his body go numb, shutting down because there was simply no more he could demand from it. With a last grunt of anger, this one more tired than anything else, he crushed her neck.
The pain flipped off automatically, and S'ric withdrew, crouching. Trying not to sway and fall over. No sleep for more than a week, continual running, the sword in the back, and now the pain... He was near the end of his stamina. Shaking himself to become more aware, and causing the sword to waver in his back, he straightened. With a grunt of effort, he reached around and withdrew the half that had been sheathed in him. His very blue eyes landed on Jaks, all anger washing away. He'd found his elf, killed the damned woman... and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Edging slowly to Jaks, occasionally leaning forward to use a clawed hand to help move, his eyes ran over his elf. Bruised, sweaty, injured.... there was real guilt as he brushed a clawed hand against Jaks' chest. All because S'ric had been... for once... careless.
At that, he pulled away and hobbled over to the tent entrance. A brief look outside let him know that only the horses were left. Bodies were scattered, torn. They should be alone. Should. He hoped. There wasn't much fight left in him. Straightening with a growl, S'ric returned to Jaks and carefully lifted him, holding him protectively and possessively, before making his way to the nearby stream. They both needed it, as far as S'ric was concerned. The way to the water was a blur. He was vaguely aware of how they got there, but didn't actually become aware until he simply sat in the shallow water, too tired to move. Too tired to even release Jaks. With his ears pressed flat, eyes closed, S'ric simply tried to relax.
[ Longest post I've typed in... err... awhile... >_> ]
