S'ric remained stretched out on the ground, unconcerned that he may get dirty. Being a werewolf sort of meant it was a given. And while he itched to be on his way, he had to wait for Jaks. Patience was hardly a strong trait. When he heard Jaks moving about, he didn't so much as budge. Mostly because even now he could remember the wound, the taste... Eyes partially closed, he simply settled for peering up at the sky. It was safe to look there. Even if he was painfully aware of Jaks, of every movement, every breath... the yelp of pain... it was amazing S'ric didn't shiver.
The guilt had something to do with it.
The werewolf didn't give a damn about anyone in the world. All humans were food, most humanoids were. And if they weren't something to eat, they were something to kill. Other shifters were competition, and he killed them. That's how he saw the world. In a 'kill it or eat it' view. He was, of course, the obvious exception. And so was Jaks. S'ric did not own a great many things, he never saw the need. But the things he did claim as his own he took care of. His territory, his cabin, and Jaks.... He'd never failed before. Someone trespassed, he hunted them down. Someone stole something from his cabin, he took it back and killed the thief. But Jaks had been gone for two days. Two. Not hours. And the woman had marked him, officially claiming Jaks. Taking his elf and making Jaks her own. It made his blood boil. It wasn't theft, it had been a successful attempt at taking Jaks.
"I... Can you help me find some clothes?"
The sound roused him enough to actually open his eyes and look at Jaks. Features etched in the epitome of neutrality, S'ric rolled to his feet and walked over to a pile he'd made. Clothes he thought Jaks might be able to use. They were all different sizes and S'ric was no tailor. He grabbed a handful of shirts, a couple pairs of pants, then tossed them toward Jaks. Unwilling to move any closer. Unwilling to say anything. S'ric barely even looked at him.
While Jaks found what he wanted to wear, S'ric made his way over to the remaining horses. Most shied away, screaming their protest. But one. While the white mare was nervous, it was because of how the other horses were reacting. She must've been used to creatures other than humans. Perfect. Ignoring the other beasts, despite how tempted he was to kill them, S'ric went about saddling the white mare. She calmed under his touch, seemingly reassured by the lack of pain he wasn't going to eat her. The werewolf could admire the horse. She was well toned, clean... very much an adequate meal. But she was also docile, compliant, and easy to calm. Perfect for Jaks while S'ric was traveling with him. At least until they made it to the desert. Then S'ric would eat her.
Having the horse saddled and ready, he led her away from the others and back toward Jaks. He left her a few feet away, knowing he'd picked right because the mare simply stood. Waiting. "Come on," S'ric said, turning to go. He just expected Jaks to follow. They had a lot of traveling to do... a lot of ground to cover. With the horse, it would go a little faster while Jaks recovered.
** Three Days Later **
The pace had been vaguely rigorous. S'ric judged the horse's stamina, and moved accordingly. He just assumed Jaks would be fine with it since he wasn't actually doing any of the running. Granted, he didn't take into account how much of a pain being –on- the running horse would be. They stopped along the way long enough for S'ric to nap, the horse to relax, and he could eat. Anytime they came across water, S'ric would stop them to eat fish. Because he wasn't about to leave to go hunting. And fish were about as filling as... nothing. Even through the frequent stops, he was hungry all the time. Between the slow pace, the steady diet of fish, and his brooding guilt, he was just pissed off. The werewolf remained in wolf form because it made it easier. Both traveling, sleeping, and catching fish.
While the horse had not been thrilled with a 9 foot tall werewolf, the mare eventually became used to him. Rather quickly. Which was good, since S'ric didn't want to have to eat her prematurely because the beast was being difficult. But after so many fish, the horse was starting to look good regardless.
Soon enough, at near twilight on the third day of traveling, they found a suitable rest stop. The forest opened up to a rather small pond, where a waterfall poured from a rather high cliff. The ground had ceased being smooth the closer they got to the second mountain range they'd need to cross. This was the first of what would be plenty of cliffs.
Panting, the werewolf approached the shallow water's edge and promptly buried his muzzle in the water. Both drinking and cooling himself. And because that felt so good, he actually waded further into the water. When it was waist deep, the werewolf fell back and rolled around in the water. His bad mood momentarily dampened, S'ric stood, inky fur dripping wet, as he eyed the darker part of the water. He was hungry... Still. Even though his fur was flattened by the water, he was still very broad and tall. Wet fur only served to slim him a little.
