- He thought it would have been… difficult. Or more difficult in any case, contemplating the what-ifs of a scenario that had already been played out, while standing with forelimbs straddled over a fallen corpse. His breath should have been labored and his body exhausted, as evidence of his hard work, but… again… he thought it would have been more of a challenge. Perhaps he was stunned? Suppressing emotion? Would it swell to the surface once those shackles fell away?
This was the great warrior after all. The proud man, the dismissive father, the aggressive and violent wolf who had never, not once, called him ‘son’… Ivory just thought… more of him.
Painted a gradient of pinks to reds to black where it dripped the heaviest, the young male finally tipped his snout to better view his fath—Cloud’s face. It was marred, mangled, gutted in ways he could not remember executing and yet there was no question of the hunter’s crime. The heat of a fresh carcass wafted in the breeze as the snow melted beneath its weight. The eyes were empty, rolling in different directions while the lids sagged around them. It was almost sad to seem them that way. Did he know it would take only a moment to lose everything? All the anger, the loathing, the rage? The potential?
Ivory sifted through every second that had just passed between them. Every blow, every bite, every wound bleeding them dry. He had tried to speak to Cloud, get through to him. Perhaps a word would shed light on what drove Ivory to this madness. Perhaps his father would see him at last… but clouded was the Warrior’s sight. Clouded by something Ivory could not pin down. He had never been able to. For a moment, the hunter felt himself falling back into moments that led him here. Of all the injuries he had incurred, he hissed from the pain that stemmed from an unseen source. And now, he would never know the truth of Cloud’s hatred. He would never get his closure.
A grimace found his lips, which turned quickly into a vicious snarl. But the slack-jawed face did not flinch. This had always been a monster, and even in death his resolve did not waver.
Tearing his gaze away did very little at first. Their history had come to a head in a small clearing that was now covered in blood. The pool that doubled in size around Cloud’s body took over all the standing room available, which was a strange blend of hot and cold gathering at his feet. And where the warmth had begun to melt the snow, the viscosity of it waned, giving the impression of crimson tendrils spooling and reaching for the only living thing in its vicinity. At first he stared at it without seeing, but then something clicked and he doubled back, finally let out a heavy breath. It was followed by a series of short exhalations, a wobbling of his limbs, and then...
A crack. Had this been anything else, anywhere else, he would have investigated the sound. But this was a murder committed on Moongate territory. This was a crime. And he was a killer. And the crack could have been his bones or the wood beneath the foot of a vile witness. It could have been anything. And it was enough to send Ivory running deeper into the woods. Adrenaline hid the pain, gave him enough to move further and faster from the scene.
Would he have wanted more time with the body? Maybe. More time meant he could have hidden the evidence, gone over the whole ordeal in his head, processed a bit more, accepted, grieved…
Or maybe it was better left as it was. Alone. Lifeless. Growing colder by the second. Something would consume it, be it the insects or the wildlife. At some point he would hope it had happened quickly, only to be touched by the darkness that whispered ‘no… a slow, humiliating consumption.’
And as he fled he briefly wondered what Cloud would have thought of his actions. Running away, again, like a coward? Well… at least he had a life to run with now. What was more cowardly in the end? Running, or letting death win?