InsaneJournal

Penny and Wings: The Morning After
[MG RP. Memo and Hollywood's parts written by Blueflyer.]

He had been here before; perhaps that had been the reason why his feet had led him here unerringly through the night. He had not known entirely where he was going, but he only knew that they had to leave that horrible place with its horrible beast. Anywhere would be better. They needed a sheltered place where they might rest, and curl up together for warmth, and where he might find such a place he did not know, but he had set off walking to where his legs might carry him, and he had found for them both a shallow, scooped-out hollow between the roots of a tall tree just big enough for both of them to huddle together inside. Things always seemed different in the dark, though the pale face of the moon seemed to him more sinister than it had before due to what had transpired in the night. It was almost as if the damn thing were laughing at their misfortune.

And yet, as the morning rose upon the field of tall grasses with their light dusting of frost, he felt that strange familiarity settle over him as he regarded it, and all of a sudden he realised why his own instincts had taken him here. He remembered the sighting, the spring of the soft earth beneath his paws. The chase, the bones crunching in his jaws and the taste of blood. He remembered his instructor in the hunt, the tall, wise, kind, red and white courser of the noble profile and the fine upstanding ears, swift of foot and of jaw, and more wily than any rabbit. Penny would have liked him.

The copper-coloured bitch stirred beside him, and he nosed softly at her dark-tinged ear. His companion opened her narrow jaws wide in a delicate yawn before shaking her head blearily. "Whass 'appenin'?"

"Come now. We must go and get food."

Penny's eyes were still very large and dark, and she trembled slightly for whatever reason she could not quite remember, but she stood up beside him and together they shook out their sore muscles, preparing to trot off into the grass in search of an unlucky rabbit.

The frost on the grass that morning had been a rude awakening to the once was indoor dog. It was colder, and made him feel wet and heavy, even though he wasn't covered in too much frost. The thicket he had found had seen to that as best as it's barren branches could muster. It couldn't keep out the cold, though. Nor could it ward off the grumbling in the male's tucked up belly. It had been three days since he had found some food, and the left over's he'd found in the garbage can had been small at best. Hunger was on the male's mind when he started the morning, and finding food was his mission.

With that mindset, Hollywood had hunted all morning and afternoon fruitlessly. He'd chased birds out of game, and his instincts had kicked in when he'd stumbled upon a seemingly abandoned rabbit warren. Movement had led to a chase, but the hare had escaped, leaving Hollywood with only the memory of its white hind end disappearing, like a snake in a hole, gone in a blink down into one of the tunnel entries. The whippet had dug at the frozen earth for all of three minutes before he had given up to take an early rest for the evening. Two hours of slow wandering had led the whippet around in circles and it was well after moonrise when he finally caught scent of another dog and recognized the thicket on the hillside.

Hollywood trotted towards the copse of barren bushes and loathed the chill that shot up from his paw pads to settle deep in the bones up to his shoulders. Flicking his ears back against his neck in hopes to conserve heat, he ducked under the low, pointy branches and entered the heart of the thicket where the white and cream form of Memo sat. She was panting heavily and he froze as the scent of blood charged over him. If he'd had goose bumps, they'd have been marching down his skin at the warming sensation the smell of the blood gave him. Her pale lips were coated in crimson and splashes of ruby dotted and faintly smeared along her neck, and there was a faint smudge around her front paws. She didn't look or act hurt. When she wagged her tail and scooted towards him, her breast hitting the ground before she rolled onto her back, craning her neck to lick his lips in a submissive gesture he noticed the dead rabbit splayed beside where she'd been sitting. "It passed by the bushes," she panted, apparently noticing where his eyes were. He stayed silent, just watching it as if expecting it to bolt. She had managed to catch them some food- could he share, would she allow him to eat? "It's still warm." Memo breathed, turning her own dark eyes to the meal.

They both fell on it with amazing tenderness. It wasn't respect for the dead, or thankfulness for the good fortune of a meal that made them eat slowly and delicately. It was the fact that both dogs were pets, lost in the outside world and very far from home and kibble. They were regressing back to their feral instincts, but it was slower than was normal.

Hollywood lifted his head, grey and brown fur stuck to his nose as he looked at Memo, then over his shoulder. "I smelled something when I was out there. It smelled like other dogs, a bitch and male. I couldn't tell if there was more. I think we should plan on moving on from here as soon as we finish and you catch your breath." He knew Memo would agree, and with a solemn bob of his head, he lowered his jaws again to the chilling meat.

They had helped each other rid themselves of their sodden coats some time the night before. The things were torn and dirty, and the wet fleece weighed them down, chilled rather than warmed them. There was no point in keeping the things any more.

There were hardly any creatures about, and the pair of them searched fruitlessly in the frosty grass for most of that short day, hoping to startle some hapless animal into making the mad, foolish dash for shelter so that they could sight it and run it down. There was no luck, it seemed, for the hunters.

Penny was swiftly growing bored and frustrated as the pale sun grew paler, and it made her terse and snappish. Feeling it was best to leave her to herself at least for a while, Wings peeled away and headed back to their tree. Perhaps there would be better hunting later on, and perhaps the sun would be warmer too.

The sharp scent of blood caught his nostrils; even though it was only a faint thread in the cold breeze his nose picked it up and latched onto it like a coursing hound onto a hare. All of a sudden the whippet's ears were held as high as they could go, his nose quivering as he sought out the source of the smell. Blood meant kill, meant food. Perhaps they were in luck after all.

It was his first instinct to seek out his prey with his eye, and following his nose felt somewhat strange and ungainly, but survival was survival, and Wings persisted. He soon neared a clump of bushes where the smell felt strongest, and through the leaves could catch patches of white and brown and a lighter colour in between the two. Cautious but curious, the whippet waited outside the thicket, unsure of what to do next, but eyes fixed on the place. He licked his nose, nervously. He knew it was dogs, and he knew they had meat, and even though he would respect the fact that the meat belonged to them, he would wait, see if they finished with it, see if there was something he could take that they didn't want. He would eat scraps.

Before the dog was a hunter, he was a scavenger.

The meal was small, especially for two dogs to share. While Memo and Hollywood managed to be fair and equal with how much they took to eat, both would have loved there to be a second rabbit.

As they ate, Hollywood's perception of the world around him slipped away, and he fell into a comfortable place of carelessness until the sharp smell of another male dog became too strong to ignore. His long neck lifted quickly and his rose shaped ears lifted from off the back of his neck, listening hard, as his eyes quickly and easily found the dark and white coloration and form of another dog just outside the thicket. He just watched the other dog intently, wondering why he just stood there. He didn't advance which is what threw Hollywood off, but as he continued to stare at the form, familiarity washed over Hollywood, and he realized the other was shaped very much like him, and about the same size as well. As he rose to his paws he noticed that Memo did the same, and he glanced to her and what remained of the rabbit. She looked concerned and guarded, but at the same time not afraid. Instantly Hollywood moved from the kill and exited the thicket a good ways from the other dog and trotted around the bushes to come upon the rear of the male.

Quiet by nature, Hollywood inspected the other male before he moved off to the side to look at Wings and his face. He kept in his sights the other's tail, ears, eyes, and lips for any early warning signs of an attack. He watched the other closely, noticing now that this male was indeed a Whippet, or a close variation of one and immediately Hollywood wondered if he was a pet too and the brindle and white dog felt a kinship with the stranger without a word even being spoken. Then, with a mental shock, he realized he hadn't even spoken to the other! Clearing his throat, Hollywood tucked his tail close to his belly and laid his ears back against his neck, hoping to look less intimidating.

"My name's Hollywood," he offered lamely. "Are you lost, too?"

At the first emergence of another dog from the bushes, Wings's ears pulled back instinctively. His first thought was to run, to mind his own business, but there was food here, and he was willing to wait for it. As long as he made it clear that he meant no harm, there was the off-chance that he might get something out of it. He'd show his belly if it would get them both fed.

He lowered his head and tail as the stranger materialised, and then realised with a start that he was a whippet much like himself - tall, slender, primarily white, with large darker patches. The sight of that unmistakeable silhouette made Wings almost forget to keep his gaze down, though his ears flickered. This, surely, was a friend -- if only because they were of the same kind -- but he could take no chances. Food was needed, and quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the strange dog retreating, backing down, and he dared a quick glance in the other's direction to confirm this. Yes -- there it was. They were to be friends after all, then, it seemed?

"My name's Hollywood. Are you lost, too?"

The halting, quiet voice -- had he met this dog before? Wings felt as if he had, though he wasn't sure. He wasn't really sure of anything except that Penny and he needed food and a more permanent place to shelter. Were they lost? For the life of him he couldn't think of how to answer that question.

"Wings," he returned. That, at least, he knew. "My name is Wings." Then, deciding to cut to the chase: "My companion and I have been seeking food all morning and not come across a thing."

He licked his nose and set his tail to wagging -- slowly, ingratiatingly -- just in case this was too much to ask. "Would you... would you be willing at all to spare some of your own?"

Hollywood noticed that Wings did not answer if he was lost or not and he licked his whiskered lips and bowed his long neck, looking up at Wings. Why hadn't he answered? Maybe he wasn't lost, maybe he was in denial, or maybe he had run away. Whatever the reason, though, Hollywood didn't feel comfortable niggling Wings for information he wasn't readily open to share. And, the brindle and white dog mentally noted, there was another topic at hand.

Naturally submissive, Hollywood reclined, resting on his haunches on the frosted grass. It was cold, and the blades were hard against the steely muscles of his thighs, he almost stood up again out of discomfort. His eyes sought out Wings' eyes and he simply stared at the other, contemplating quietly to himself. It wasn't his kill in the first place, and he didn't feel comfortable calling Memo a pack, or at least calling himself an alpha to her. Even though she acted submissive to him, he figured it was out of play, or some weird recognition of his gender as superior. Her act was a game to him and he took no stock in any position of authority she may have invested in him. And because of this view he had, that kill was as much his to give away as the pink collar around her neck. "I…" he began softly, glancing towards the thicket where he could see Memo standing and watching.

"I have had my fill," he finished, much stronger, "but I am not the only one eating of it. There is still a lot left." At this he stood and turned his forequarters towards the thicket and Memo inside. He studied her as she moved, unable to tell exactly what she was doing through the thickness of the barren branches. She was moving around, and so quickly he spoke, lest she be finishing off the rabbit. "Memo," he called with a voice that failed to sound as strong as he wanted.

The fawn and white bitch picked up the kill gingerly, having heard the conversation between the two dogs. The rabbit was largely whole, most of her own torn off bits devoured. She carried the kill from the center of the coppice and out towards the seal brown and white dog, Wings. She dropped the kill at his paws and backed away to stand beside Hollywood, giving him a good natured smile, before turning back to Wings. "We've had enough to last us." She stated simply.

Hollywood turned away from Memo and back to Wings after the exchange and his tail wagged slowly and briefly between his hind legs. "Best of Luck, Wings, to you and your companion!" He said, quietly.

For a moment Wings simply stood and stared at the two whippets. He was not a nervous dog by nature, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he felt his legs begin give way beneath him, and the beginnings of a whimper, high and tremulous, quivered softly in his throat. He felt as if he might break any minute, though why exactly he could not pinpoint. Perhaps it was because he saw the familiar shape and type of the pair, saw himself reflected in each of their forms, and it was vaguely enough like some kind of homecoming, as if he had wandered far and was only now seeing the welcome sight of something familiar. Perhaps it was the longing after something that he couldn't quite place and couldn't quite remember.

The bitch looked familiar, too; perhaps he had seen her before as well. It was all rather hazy to him.

"Wait," he called in a whimper of longing, his voice shaking. "Wait. Don't leave. Not yet. I... It... well, it's easier hunting in threes, isn't it? Or fours," he added, remembering Penny. They could work together. They could hunt together. It was not good for dogs to be alone...

As if by magic there was the soft rustle of footfalls and Penny materialised beside him. She had only managed to catch glimpses of the creatures through the grass, only caught snatches of conversation, and she gave a start when she saw the two strangers properly.

Her ears stood and she looked as if she were about to say something -- just for a minute. Then the ears folded, the head went down, and she slunk over to Wings's side, keeping her body low, positioning herself slightly behind him. She'd simply wait for him to make the moves.

The look Wings had intrigued him. He looked barely able to contain himself, barely able to stay hinged and the feeling was infectious. He felt as if his paws were tingling with tiny ant bites. He felt restless to move them, to prance in place but he schooled himself. Then the offer came, a chance to hunt in fours, to increase the odds. Hollywood felt excitement slide like a wet fish through his belly and his tail began to wag a bit more solidly and longer. Beside him he could hear Memo's tail thumping the crunchy grass, and then he heard something else- movement.

Looking up he noticed a petite form, standing at attention just a short distance away. Her smell came to him and his ears lifted, watching her with avid interest even as she slunk towards Wings. Then, noticing her submissive posture, he realized he probably looked very predatory, just staring at her, and he folded his ears back. Then he looked back to Wings. Penny's silence reminded him that he had yet to introduce Memo to Wings. He tilted his head towards the fawn and white female, while keeping his gaze on Wings. "This is my companion, Memo," next looking to Penny he said, "and I'm Hollywood." Finally returning his gaze to Wings, he added, "And you are right; four dogs travelling together are much better than two pairs."

Hollywood moved forward, then, and snuffled around Wings' mouth and nose, his dark eyes first staring hard into the other dog's before he allowed his eyes to rake down the others neck and back. He then pulled back and noticed that he and Wings were built in a very similar manner. Wings was just slightly taller at the shoulder than he was, but both seemed to be equally muscled. When he turned his eyes to Penny, he noticed that she looked petite like Memo but perhaps more muscular- not overly so, just appearing like she'd used her muscles a lot more than Memo. Both appeared to be the same height. Backing further away, Hollywood thought the four would make a handsome pack. "Memo and I have been staying in this," he motioned with his narrow muzzle to the thicket.

"It's safe," Memo offered, looking at Penny with interest. She recognized her. "But it gets cold when the wind blows. With four bodies, though, it should work better to keep us warm for the night."

"Unless you plan on moving on tonight?" Hollywood added, watching Wings and Penny. The vision in his right eye was shadowed, and difficult to make out forms and colors properly in the dark. Where in the daylight he would have recognized Wings, in the night it was just a familiar coloration.

Wings inclined his head. "My companion is called Penny. It would be a great honour and privilege to have you with us. Ev-"

"I can introduce myself," grunted the bitch tersely. She tensed just a little as Hollywood stepped forward to snuff at Wings's face, but remained still, letting her dog take the lead as ever. Wings returned the inspection with equal caution and care, though he couldn't quite stop himself from shaking completely. It was almost like a bad dream; it even felt the same way. Except that now he couldn't remember what yesterday was like anymore.

Penny's eyes gleamed suddenly as she regarded Memo, returning the fawn's intent stare. "I know you from somewhere, don't I," she murmured, her tail rising just slightly from where it lay curved against her hocks, and almost imperceptibly start to wag. "Yes... I'm sure of it." She stepped forward daintily to put her nose to the bitch's tail.

"We have no plans to move," Wings told the brindle dog quietly. "There is no place for us to go, yet. It would be very kind of you if we might huddle with you tonight, at least. Perhaps tomorrow will bring better hunting; if you would care to hunt with us I am certain that we would all have better luck."

Hollywood nodded, hardly paying Penny any heed as she approached Memo. At the moment he only had eyes for Wings, curious about his situation and how he’d come to find himself staring down the nose of a white and brindle stranger. The shorter male regarded Wings in silence, watching his eyes as if they’d divulge the secret of the white and brown dog, but they didn’t. Lifting his head, Hollywood glanced to the cloudy sky, and to the faint, waxy half moon in the pastel colored morning sky.

The stars were gone, and the sun was weak as the horizon kept it from peeking over the edge of the world just yet. Even without the sun, though, the morning was sparkling with the frozen powder coating the grass. But it wasn’t a bright twinkling, like a morning full of good things. It was dark glitter, like the kind of shimmering that can be seen on the surface of a deep black pool, or the gleam of the blackness of the deep well of a weasel’s eye. It held no warmth, the sparkling morning, just a chill reminder that not everything that glitters is gold.

The sheer fact that Hollywood and Memo had stumbled upon the two other whippets this morning was a turn of events that could be both a blessing and a curse. A novice wild dog like Hollywood failed to see how the turn of events could turn devastating, but a flash in his fawn colored friend’s eyes betrayed a wild demon that could darken the foursome worse than the cold majesty of a dark morning.

“Come,” Hollywood offered with a friendly smile. With a turn of his slender hips he moved towards the thicket. His deep chest brushed the ground in a faint kiss as he entered the thicket, ducking below the thick branches overhead. Once in the center he turned his narrow snout to face the white washed male outside, they slid down the other’s form like warm palms inspecting a winner’s frame, before his sharp eyes dropped to Wing’s paws, and the dead rabbit there. “It is somewhat small in here, though, so you and Panny ought to eat that out there before coming inside.” It wasn’t an ousting comment, trying to keep the others from entering, he simply didn’t trust himself to share completely the kill with the handsome Wings and feisty Penny.

Memo pulled her nose from Penny’s tail and wagged her own, grinning widely at the copper bitch. “I raced you,” she said easily, recognizing Penny’s attitude far better than her scent of coat. “We ended in a draw,” she lied, mentally retelling herself that chasing the small bushy tailed critter instead of completing the race was rounds for disqualification. Her human trained mind could not remember that every dog could be a winner in the race. “Funny,” she said softly,

“Funny we should meet outside of fences, now.”

Penny put her ears forward at the fawn bitch's words. "Indeed. I remember now, though. You were fun to chase."

She snuffed companionably at Memo's ears for some moments, wagging her tail, looking the most relaxed Wings had seen her in a long time. Ease of mind and soul, it seemed, was contagious, and he felt his tail begin to rise again as he relaxed further. Hollywood had offered a good suggestion.

"We've food, Pen," he told her softly, before lowering his nose to the meat. At the sight of the kill Penny quivered and approached it, first cautiously, her instincts informing her that she ought to let her dog eat first, but he would not start without her, and after a long, shared glance, they both fell upon what was left of the ragged corpse and tore it apart between them.

Memo and Hollywood had already eaten the choicest bits, but it didn't matter. It was food, and the fact that neither of them had eaten since the previous afternoon, coupled with the shock of the night before, had left both Penny and Wings ravenous. Together, they cleaned up the rest of it, even crunching up the bones and some of the fur with obvious relish.

Penny lay down, gnawing at the remnants of a lanky hindleg, and Wings curled himself beside her, keeping them both warm. The thicket had been mentioned, sure, but perhaps it was safer to remain out here until they were invited in once more.

The brindle and white dog watched the two eat, lifting his ears when he heard a crunch or two before settling back onto his haunches. He watched Memo as she crawled under the branches and lay down beside him and he turned in a circle several times before stopping and looking up at Wings and Penny. The kill was gone completely, and the pair were apparently finished eating and the slender male tucked his tail tightly beneath him before he called out to the pair. “It isn’t much warmer in here, but it is slightly so.”

Memo lay on her side, her long neck arcing up to regard the copper female, then the handsome Wings. She studied him for a moment, noticing almost immediately how he looked very slightly taller than Hollywood. She also noticed how their faces were slightly different in shape, their eyes slightly different, and she mentally noted that she liked the way Hollywood’s eyes looked better than Wings’, but she preferred the brown and white’s facial structure and body structure, compared to the her more delicate male friend. She lay her long neck out again, settling her fawn cheek against the cold ground and she closed her large dark eyes, fully prepared to sleep the wee, chilly hours of the morning off and go looking for food later in the afternoon.

Hollywood settled himself against Memo’s back, curling himself up tightly against the inclement weather and frigid temperature. Some parts of his body were absolutely appalled at the events and repercussions of him breaking free of his lead, and his young joints and fatless body weren’t celebrating either. However, Memo’s back was a comforting and familiar warmth to him, and he knew before they’d wake she would be curled at his shoulder with her neck draping his own and the warmth they would share then would be much better. Before he actually rested his chin on the soil, he turned his pure brown eyes to Wings and Penny, and a small, toothless smile pulled at his soft white lips. “Come on,” he said, much more friendly now, as his tail thumped against his curled hind legs.The pair didn't need much of an invitation to come out of the cold. The more the warmer, they knew, and slowly, almost apologetically, they slunk through the screen of leaves to where Hollywood and Memo had already ensconced themselves. Penny was more hasty than Wings to get out into the shelter, though even she remembered her manners.

Slowly but surely they joined the dogpile, curling themselves around their new companions -- packmates? -- hesitantly but with obvious relief at having been invited. Penny buried her nose in her paws and fell swiftly to sleep. Wings just lay, sighing softly, just grateful for the company and the added warmth.

"Thank you," he murmured to Hollywood, just before his long jaws split in a tongue-curling yawn.

The words of thanks uttered by Wings did not fall on deaf ears, but Hollywood did not answer immediately. He was quiet, in fact, for a long time, staring unseeingly at the individual hairs that ran along Wings’ back. He just stared, and found it difficult to look away, almost impossible to peel his eyes from the spot on the other’s back until finally the moment passed. He looked to Wings’ eyes and tried hard not to smile sheepishly. Guarded eyes met the chocolate and white’s dark pair and a friendly tilt of his head quickly hid something else in the dog’s eyes, a shadow of something deep and foreign.

“You are most welcome,” Hollywood finally whispered back, slicking his ears back calmly before he moved his chin down, resting it delicately on Wings’ hip. A sensation similar to warm water crawled down his back and legs and he swallowed and fought the urge to shift. He knew the origin of the sensation, knew it was the feeling of another male’s body beneath his chin. His heartbeat flickered faster in his deep chest and he forced his eyes shut, willed a calm expression to fill his face as the blood pounded through his veins. The insides of his ears flushed and suddenly it wasn’t so cold outside.

‘Sleep, you cur,’ Hollywood thought to himself behind closed eyelids, ‘if you are going to have those thoughts, at least wait till you know more about them. And for goodness sake…’ he let the thought of what was proper sink into his mind, and once again he felt the coldness of the morning against his back, ‘you have Memo. She is, after all, what you are supposed to like.’

Sleep would come, albeit he’d have to wrestle it, but eventually he would drift off to sleep.

When Wings opened his eyes again, the pale sun had just ascended the sky, and the frost-silvered heads of the grass were waving in a cool breeze that happened to be blowing by. The pied whippet shuddered at the brush of its cold fingers, and he put his ears back again and hunkered down, gritting his teeth. There had to be a better place to shelter than this draughty hole. He would make it a point to the others that they should find one.

He became aware that Penny was nowhere in sight, and he started up in alarm, but his keen eyes caught sight of a copper shape blurring through the grass towards him at an excited gallop, not even bothering to hide herself.

The bitch skidded to a stop as she reached the thicket and pushed her head through the branches. Her face appeared to be sporting two hideous growths, one dangling from each side of her jaws, but closer inspection revealed these to be a bloodied pair of dead dormice. By some lucky chance she had managed to discover them where they slept, and as any sighthound would when faced with the prospect of free food, had taken the opportunity and shaken it firmly.

"Just a bite each," she panted, dropping the small grey bodies before her bedfellows. "But it's breakfast."

Hollywood woke suddenly when the body beneath him lunged away from him. Immediately his eyes fought to focus and they landed on Wings standing just above him, looking worried. Instantly he pitched to his paws and came to stand shoulder to shoulder with Wings, and nearly asked what was wrong when he noticed two things; the copper colored female wasn’t inside the thicket, and that something was moving just outside it.

He turned his head and watched the movement sharply, noticing after a moment it was Penny. His tail wagged slightly in relief that she wasn’t a threat. His eyes found the bloody forms in her jaws and his ears perked up in interest so quickly one ear went fully erect, before flopping over backwards to reveal the pearl pink insides of his ears. “Wonderful job, Penny,” he complimented with great diplomacy.

Memo was, perhaps, the least flustered of the bunch. She had awoken when Penny had left her side and had lain quietly watching the female from inside the thicket, head upon her paws. When Memo caught sight of the bitch returning, her ears had slowly risen as, even from the distance she had realized there was something flopping from her narrow muzzle, and clever little Memo had suspected what it was.

She rose finally and already her tail was wagging back and forth furiously, her lithe hips swaying with the swing of her tail. She approached Penny and licked her throat then ears before she backed away as Hollywood came to stand beside her.

He looked to the dead mouse on the frozen ground. It was a very small treat, but it would do to sustain him for a later hunt. Politely, he took a step back to allow Memo to eat first, he suspected she had injured herself a few nights ago and had fallen into the routine of letting her eat first. He finished what she left quickly, hardly able to avoid the large bones and once the meal was finished he stood and came around to face the three others. The sky, he hardly noticed, was dark and overcast, but the pale sun still shown through as if through a veil of smoke.

“I feel we should make progress, if only for the sake of making it,” he began. “Memo and I have been in this thicket for a long while now, this will be the second or third day, and it’s not offered us the best of shelter. I think we should make our way towards those woods there,” his nose aimed for the distant tree line. “What do you all say?”

Memo slid her eyes from Penny, having been watching her face for a reaction to Hollywood’s proposal, and she looked the dog whom had thrice refused her in her hour of… need. Of course, now, she had given up on Hollywood ever acting like a dog should towards a Bitch. “I think it’s an idea,” she said, and noticed the dog’s eyes were on Wings’, not hers or Penny’s and she glanced back to Penny without moving her head. Obviously the bitches were not included in the ‘you all’ of Hollywood’s comment.

Penny's eyes were very bright and her tail was high as she graciously accepted the praise and acknowledgment due her, and she waited for Wings to bite off a head and delicately swallow his portion before she reached for and gulped down the rest -- bones, hair and all. Beggars couldn't afford to be choosers, and mice only filled so much of one's belly. It would last them, though, until they could find more food.

It was clear to Penny at least that Hollywood was right, and they really ought to move away from this place. The pickings seemed slim, and there wasn't much in the way of shelter. She bobbed her head by way of assent. As long as they weren't going back to that stretch of water again, she wouldn't object to a move, and since she didn't have any better ideas she might as well follow the rest of them. She glanced sidelong at Wings, waiting to see what his reaction would be. Food or no, she wasn't going anywhere without him. Though it would be a pity to have to leave the company of this other nice young bitch.

Wings considered for a moment, licking his whiskers, and glancing in every direction, surveying the lie of the land with his keen dark eyes. "I have no alternatives to offer," he said finally. "And your suggestion is worth a try. I certainly don't see any reason why we shouldn't move to your woods, at least for now."

The thicket now left behind, Hollywood pushed through the tall grasses headed towards the sad excuse for a tree line in the distance. As he walked, the scent of water grew much more distant, and he tried very hard to make sure he wasn’t heading towards that large body of water he and Memo had stumbled upon near a large number of boats. He was almost positive that the river he and Memo had crossed would come into play for the foursome much later, because he had enough sense to realize that he went across it once, and to go back home he’d have to do it again.

Hollywood looked over at Memo and sidled closer to her, affectionately nipping at her shoulders as she matched his pace. “Do you think the cover of trees will offer more warmth?” he asked her, for a moment worried that his suggestion was not a good one.

“I don’t know,” Memo answered truthfully. Her dark eyes moved to look at Hollywood, and she met eyes with him before looking forward once more. “The trees might make it difficult to find good shelter. Especially when they don’t have leaves.” There wasn’t much else she could say to him, because she simply didn’t know the answers. She had never been lost, had never lived in the wild.

The fawn bitch stepped up the pace, using the exclamation that she’d thought she’d seen something, but really it was just an excuse to detach herself from Hollywood’s side. She felt uncomfortable when walking beside him, and envious of what Wings and Penny seemingly had. She wished fleetingly that Hollywood wasn’t backwards in the ways of his gender. At heart, Memo just wanted to be a loyal bitch and mate to her dog. Of course she wasn’t one to spill herself over the mechanics of romance, but it was a good thing, she guessed, to have around.

Hollywood took no notice to Memo’s antics, instead he mentally wrote it off as her having one of her strange mood swings that he coined all females to have. He picked up into a casual trot, the gait more natural to him than a walk, and hoped the journey would be a painless, easy one to make.

The four of them moved forward at a trot, Wings following at a respectful distance behind Hollywood and Memo, but careful not to let them get too far ahead of him, either. Penny was growing calmer as the trek went on, though she still kept close to Wings's side, head down and ears folded.

The line of trees reared before them, all bare trunks and frost-silvered branches like grasping hands. There was something rather pathetic about the twisted shapes, but it didn't stop Wings from striding up to one and giving it a perfunctory sniff before cocking his leg against it.

"Well, it's ours now," he told the others, bluntly humorous. "At least for now."

That bit of dormouse had only sat in his belly for so long, and now he was eager to start the day's hunting. As of now the sun and the air were bright and warm -- they didn't need shelter just yet. What they needed was sustenance. He scraped about in the light covering of snow and ice that coated the tree roots, searching for any sign of a creature's comings and goings. There was a cache of nuts stuffed carelessly into a small hollow in the bark, and a young squirrel's scent thick around it, but Wings saw no way he could track the animal down. He'd have to see it first, and he sat back and blew the scent from his nose, contemplating.

He was interrupted by an eager whuff from Penny, and looked up to see her quivering, taut as a bowstring, her slender head pointed straight up into the tree. A bushy-tailed grey shape squatted in the crotch of a branch above their heads, and it didn't seem to have noticed they were there just yet. Penny had sense and instinct enough not to make any noise or sudden movements, but the high, almost imperceptible whine that issued from her throat spoke volumes about just how much she wished to fly into the tree, a copper arrow, to vanquish her prey. Her prey.

Hollywood spun when he heard Penny’s whining, his nose having been pinned to the ground, scenting a small cluster of dark pellets hidden among the yellowed grasses. Instantly his eyes found the copper bitch standing at alert, with her head tilted back and muzzle pointed like an arrow towards…something. Hollywood threw back his own head and stared up at the flaky tree limbs, through the crisp and crunchy brown leaves that the autumn winds had not chased to the ground, and his ears perked when he caught the sight of the squirrel. His dark eyes followed the stiff bristled hairs on the creature’s fluttering tail, then he moved his eyes over the silver fur, sleek as a polished river stone. Its sides were sheathed with a healthy layer of fat and its long white whiskers flashed forward and vibrated as it took in their scent. Tiny pink paws, Hollywood could see, grasped the rough bark of the tree, and beady black eyes flashed in the late morning light. Hollywood felt Memo stiffen beside him and wondered if only just now she’d noticed the creature, safe in the boughs of the tree. He could not take his eyes from the prey, and when it scuffled to the other side of the tree he hastened to follow it, nearly tripping over his own legs in his excitement.

He could hear its claws against the bark, scratching to grasp hold and trying to avoid being seen. The sound of its nails drove him mad with want to catch it, and his nose pointed upwards in a silent summit. Then a chittering began, an angry, quick sounding series of clicks and squeaks that caused him to cock his head to the side as he trotted around the tree, trying desperately to keep the squirrel in sight. The chattering grew higher in pitch, riding over even the sound of the wind in the trees and the quiet fluting sounds of the birds in the nearby trees. He leaped, brushing past Wings, nearly shoving him over as his muzzle aimed for the squirrel, leaving behind the sound of his jaws snapping on empty air. Clack.

Memo’s eyes focused on the squirrel from her rooted position as it made circles around the tree, but she made no move to go after the creature. She could smell its fur, warm and dusty with the smell of dirt and tree sap, and the heavy aroma of the tree itself was very strong in the area as well. She liked it a fair amount better than the thicket. As she watched the pursuit of the whippet and the squirrel, with Penny and Wings, only now standing witness, she made to spring in and assist Hollywood in his circling. Until an unusual scent crossed her black nose. She turned her head, following the mossy, damp animal smell away from the three other whippets silently. Her eyes were useless at the moment, and her nose quivered at the end of her muzzle, drinking in the scent of something fungal, and a scent that smelled very strongly of something very wet and lightly rotting. Both were smells she’d never experienced before, and with great interest she followed them. Deeper into the small forest she trotted, the further she went, the stronger the smell. At last she came upon a frozen stream, the top of the river unmoving and white, appearing like textured glass with bits of leaves and sticks inside. Her ears went up and eyes sighted on the source of the smell, and it too saw her.

Hollywood finally pulled back, tasting defeat at the back of his tongue. He craned his head up yet again to look at the squirrel, noticing it’s heaving sides, and recognizing the signs of exhaustion from his own current feelings. His long pink tongue lolled out of his mouth and he looked to Wings and Penny, watching them to see if they were having any better luck in the rodent’s capture.

Penny and Wings might have reverted to their feral instincts more readily than their companions simply because of the traumatic way that their 'freedom' had been bought, but they still had not much in the way of hunting know-how beyond the instinctive "chase-down-and-kill". Penny's finding the mice that morning had been pure luck and nothing more, and neither of them had any clue how to get a squirrel down from a tree. Wings strolled up and pawed gingerly at the tree bark, but dared not get any closer in case he scared the creature away.

It would be only too simple if the prey were on the ground and running; here it was in plain sight but sorely out of his reach. It seemed that Hollywood had no more ideas than they did. Sighing quietly, Wings decided that the best he could do was wait. Squirrels did come down from trees: he had vivid pictures of flying furry bodies dashing speedily away from him as he chased them on the ground. Perhaps that one would come down if he let it. Moving some distance away from the tree where there was a patch of dry bare ground, he settled himself and waited, not moving, his eyes fixed on the tree-rat.

Penny was losing patience, and a whine-growl of annoyance escaped her throat as she regarded the squirrel, which ignored her. This was pointless. Why would that maddening rodent not descend to a point where she could reach up and snag it? There had to be something she could do, and her agile hound's mind was working quickly, but her growing irritation with the entire scenario was only serving as a hindrance to the thought process. The mouthful of mouse was hardly enough for a day. She was hungry, and she was hungry now.

Such was her darting attention that she noticed Memo sneaking off on her own. The bitch's curiosity was piqued, and after a disdainful snort in the general direction of the offending tree, she followed the fawn female, wondering all the while what she had spotted. As they approached the stream, the quiet murmur of the rushing water underneath the ice stirred some faintly remembered horror in Penny's breast, and she stopped abruptly, quivering. But this was not the river that had swept her and Wings away from everything they had known, the river that had irreparably changed both their lives, and as she stared at it, she relaxed just slightly, even though she still gazed at the water with wary eyes. Licking her nose nervously, she glanced around for Memo.

Memo’s eyes grew round as she regarded the creature near the water’s side, staring into its black eyes, and the limp flesh in its black paws. She had no idea what they grey coated creature was, but she mused it looked somewhere between a cat and a dog, with its long, banded bushy tail and pointed snout. When it opened its jaws the fawn bitch started at the sound that fell from the creature’s white lips, and when it turned away from her to scamper, bow-legged, across tome stones, Memo followed. The fawn bitch flew over the ice, her paws breaking through. Water colder than she’d ever known flooded over her paws, and with a sharp intake of breath she recognized the pain of the chill. But she had her sights set on the prey animal, and not the noodle-limp string of flesh it left behind on the stream’s bank.

Paw pads landing on frozen ground, Memo leapt after the creature as it made to climb up a tree, and her mouth closed around its bandy spine, and with a great thrust of her head, she tossed it from the bark and into a pile of brown leaves. There was silence. Then a snorting, growling sound came from the dead leaves, followed by the animal in a silver blur. It was running now, and Memo was hot on its heels, snaking her neck forward to chomp her jaws on great mouthfuls of fur from its tail and haunches. She could smell blood and it drove her faster. Back across the stream, Memo broke the ice again, while the critter skipped stone to stone. The whippet bitch looked up while in the center of the stream and her eyes found Penny and suddenly something clicked in her head. “Penny!” she cried, breathlessly. “Don’t let it get past you!” Now all she had to do was herd it towards the copper female, and dinner would be caught.

Hollywood stood for a moment, looking up into the tree. He wanted to catch the squirrel, but it was unmoving, and very high up now, and he doubted they’d make the catch. When he looked to Wings, though, he realized that eventually it would come down. How long would they have to wait? The white and brindle male turned his head in the direction Penny had gone, wondering if Memo had gone the same way as well, and he looked back to Wings with a small smile. “Should we follow them..?” he asked softly.

At the animal's first dash for freedom Penny had stayed, trembling and whining, on the bank. Within her deep hound's chest age-old instincts were warring with barely-remembered fear, and thus she could do no more than pace anxiously to and fro, her forepaws skittering in an indecisive dance, her eyes never leaving the animal and the young fawn and white bitch that had listened to those instincts and taken off after it.

She continued to watch, completely focused on the drama unfolding before her. Memo taking the prey, but not quite. It was still alive and running. Running back the way it had come. Running for her...

Penny tensed in readiness, barely registering Memo's call to her. Even without it she would have known what to do -- every impulse in her sleek body screamed it -- but the cry of another, a fellow hunter, only served to rouse her further. Her blood up and boiling with hunt-lust, she waited, barely restraining herself from swooping forward as the creature came bouncing toward her. She had never seen the like of it before, but no matter. Prey was prey, and prey was for taking.

Her target hit the bank. Intent only on escaping from its first pursuer, it had failed to notice the second. In a flash the copper whippet was upon him, wasting no time and no breath on screams or noise that would have alerted her prey to his presence. No delays, no noisy show, just a swift rush and a swifter chop to the back of the head, which she held firmly onto.

She felt the sensation of sharp teeth snapping desperately at her foreleg, but she was too lost in the heady rush of the hunt to register pain. This animal was bigger than she was used to, and it was fighting her as the fleeing plastic bags never had, but this just fed her hunger. She could do no more than hang on grimly, a savage guttural snarl issuing from her throat as she attempted to shake the trapped creature in her jaws.

From a distance, Wings's ears pricked forward as he heard the snarl and the sound of an animal in its death throes, and instantly his pulse quickened. He had agreed to Hollywood's suggestion of going after the two bitches, since they weren't having much luck with the treed squirrel anyway, and he had hoped for better luck hunting but he certainly hadn't dared to hope that they would catch anything that soon. What was that sound, anyway? It didn't sound like any creature he was familiar with.

Turning to Hollywood, he gave him a meaningful glance before quickening his pace to a fast trot, straight for the sounds of the struggle.

Hollywood followed Wings through the underbrush and towards the sounds of snarling from two types of animals. He kept low and behind Wings, taking the time to observe his companion's bouncing stride and thick thigh muscles from behind until the smell of the foreign creature was too strong to ignore. With his ears slicked back, sleek against his neck his dark eyes lifted and beheld Penny with a strange animal in her jaws. It was struggling still, and with a quick glance he noted Memo making her way through a stream not far off, and his eyes took in blood on Penny's mouth and her leg.

He came up to stand beside Wings and simply watched, extremely tense as if he were contemplating leaping in to relieve Penny of the struggle. He merely watched, though, with his keen red-brown eyes.

Memo splashed through the icy creek, trying to avoid the water but failing as the ice was not strong enough to hold her. She came upon the bank and invited herself into the struggle between Penny and the prey. She lunged down, aiming for it's throat and received a painful bite on the bridge of her nose. Soundlessly she yanked her head back, the sharp tiny teeth scraping across her muzzle before she ducked again and grabbed hold of the furry throat with her incisors. Her grip wasn't good enough so she repositioned her teeth in a quick pinch and clamped down, her long teeth piercing and small teeth pinching.

The creature would have probably been dead in a matter of seconds without Memo's help, but still she held fast, even as it sagged against her face, it's small head laying across the top of her own. She didn't let go, though, egged on by Penny's growling and the instinct to keep hold until the prey was deader than dead.

Wings simply stood and watched the bloody tableau in some mingling of horror and fascination. He had chased, caught and even killed prey, yes, but the rabbits and the squirrels had never attacked him back, never torn his leg open as this animal had done to Penny. It was dying, that he could tell -- no smaller animal, no matter how ferocious, would last long in the copper bitch's jaws, and even now Memo had joined the fray -- but the sight of prey fighting back was enough to freeze him in his own tracks, make him second-guess himself.

By the time that it actually occurred to him to do something about all of this, the creature was by all accounts dead, and both Penny and Memo were pulling at the grey body with its striking black and white ringed tail. Dimly aware of Hollywood beside him he strode forward, pulling back his ears and lowering his head just in case Penny decided to get possessive. He had learned long ago that it was a good thing to be cautious where she was concerned.

The seal and white movement caught Penny's gaze, and keeping a tight hold on her prey she rolled her eye backward to take in the hazy shadow of Wings approaching them. A soft growl rumbled in her throat, and she tugged at the limp corpse in her jaws. Memo was Hollywood's companion, and she was Wings'. Memo and she had killed this thing together -- therefore it made sense that all four of them should get equal share. But still her jaws were clamped tight, reluctant to release the prey, as she turned her body to face him.

Wings simply stopped some two feet away from her and stood, gazing at her. He too knew that they all had rights to this prey; they were all as good as pack. And he knew that Penny knew as well as he did. As such, he waited, neither pressing nor begging, simply waiting for what he knew she would give him. And slowly the copper bitch's jaws relinquished their hold on her kill, and as it fell from her jaws Wings moved forward, just as slowly, one step at a time. The two dogs nudges each other, and Wings lowered his muzzle to her torn front leg and licked at it.

"Well caught," he said softly, and turned to Memo to give her the same compliment before looking behind him for Hollywood.

....