Chapter Text
It slunk along the treeline, cyan gaze piercing the dark of the thicket. His eyes remained trained upon the lush meadow that flourished beyond the perimeter.
A shepherd and his cottony flock grazed peacefully in the late afternoon, the ivory-horned man drifting through the sea of sheep, attending to each with utmost care. His demeanor was calm, almost radiating some sort of heavenly aura as he kneeled down to stroke one of his kin with a smile.
The wolf pushed his head past a particularly stubborn shrub, tearing his stare away to scan the clearing instead. A straggler, presumably a young juvenile by the looks of it, lumbered carelessly away from the midst of its herd. He licked his chops.
It had been a while since he had allowed himself the luxury of a full meal, only feeding upon rodents or the occasional fish in the last few half-moons.
Claws flexing, it took a tentative step forward-
"Shaaaadow Milk!"
Great.
A subtle weight settled between his tensed shoulders. "You left without me again..." the crow whined, hopping along his spine provocatively.
"I didn't invite you, Candy Apple." Shadow Milk snapped, lip curling enough to let his teeth gleam in the dappled light. "You're going to distract me. Go find your brother."
"Saphy's busy bothering that dove again!" She chattered back with a displeased click of her beak. Black Sapphire and the fledge obviously weren't related, the latter a crow whilst the other a raven.
Shadow Milk had protected the raven from a young vixen, whilst the crow... he didn't actually know. She simply began following him wherever he went. He was not one to complain, as she proved useful. A tool to a loner was incredibly valuable.
...They were the closest thing he had to a pack. He doesn't remember the face of his mother, nor the thrill of being one of many.
"I don't care. Make yourself useful or just go." he huffed, unable to turn his head in a way where he could see the avian.
Candy Apple seemed to consider her options before jumping up to stand between his ears. "I can distract that sheep-man for you!" she offered cheerfully. Shadow Milk shook out his pelt to knock her off.
The wolf remained silent for a few moments, considering her proposition. The crow hovered petulantly a few centimeters from his snout in response. "Flap around him until I'm back in the woods." he ordered, nudging the bird with his nose. "Go on. You don't need to waste my time."
"Yes, Master Shadow Milk!" she chittered, flitting away in an instant. The wolf watched her silhouette disappear over the rise of the hill. She worked fast, he'll give her that.
Fluttering erratically, the shepherd was easily distracted by the ave circling a few feet above his head. He held up his staff, perhaps speaking an offer of perch to the crow. Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. A moment later, he glimpsed the shape of... what he presumed were two wings unfurling from the sides of the man's head.
Now that certainly piqued his interest.
The canid shook its head, abruptly pushing his face into a bush to dispel the distraction. He was here to hunt! Not dwell over some strange little lamb!
He growled under his breath, zeroing in on where he saw his potential prey instead. The animal was still mindlessly meandering along the hillside, inched closer to the trees than before, much to his delight. Shadow Milk crept through the periphery, attempting to get as close as possible to the sheep.
Its claws kneaded earth, churning the soil restlessly as he positioned himself in line with the creature. The heavy musk of it was wafted by a gust to the wolf's senses, further ensuring the sheep did not smell nor notice him. He clicked his teeth together, a pleased habit.
A glance provided that the sheep-man-bird creature was still enthralled by the odd crow whisking around him, far from the scene that was about to take place. The familiar rush of the hunt reverberated in his paws as he took a few tentative steps toward the animal.
Breaking into a sprint, Shadow Milk burst through the foliage concealing him in near reckless abandon. The prey shrieked helpless bleats as his teeth tore through the delicate flesh of its neck, bucking futilely beneath the wolf's paws as it was pinned to the grass. The cotton of its wool was an unpleasant sensation upon his mouth, yet it was only an afterthought. He could hear the portion of the flock that had been closest to him dash away on swift hooves.
It only took a moment to break skin, the metallic taste of blood flooding his tongue before the canid snapped his jaw until a tooth grazed bone. A streak of red splattered onto his chin as he wrenched his head sideways, a tremor of snapped ligaments emitting from the prey. The sheep's squealing was reduced to a choked remain, a final whistle of sound escaping from its punctured throat.
Shadow Milk paused long enough to catch some breath, listening to ensure the animal was dead.
The obvious ugly screech of a crow graced his ears, the wolf's attempt to decipher it was interrupted by a heavy strike connecting to his side.
What wind it managed to reclaim was knocked right out of him, a wounded yelp escaping his bloodstained maw as he was thrown to the grass, paws releasing the ram.
Shadow Milk was stiff as a tree, flank pressed against the ground and staring ahead with an absent gaze. The sound of a whine that was not the wolf's own released him from the frozen shock.
Turning his head, he could barely distinguish the being barely a few steps away. Though as his vision cleared and the pieces clicked in his brain, it was obviously the shepherd kneeling beside the dead sheep. The hybrid sniffled, a white-knuckled grip upon his wooden staff that was likely responsible for the pain that continued to spike in his pelt.
"Oh, dear..." the man murmured, his voice cracking. His hands moved with intent, one immediately flying to the gouged tissue to probe the damage, whilst the other stroked the creature's wool.
Shadow Milk twisted his hips to bring himself up, but his paws gave way the moment he was nearly steady on his haunches. The wolf whimpered, claws scrambling for purchase. Balance failed him once more, hind legs dragging on the clover-ridden field as he stood on his front.
The ram-man was embracing the body of the sheep now, though glanced back at the sound of a growl from the canid behind him. Shadow Milk tensed once more, but the milky yellow-and-blue gaze that met his own only retained sorrow rather than resent. The wings framing his sienna face drooped, heavy with loss. The wolf found itself unable to move, pinned by his gaze
He was vulnerable. Subconsciously aware of the dark tunnel tugging at the edge of his vision. He swore he could see the black shape of a crow--Candy Apple--circling above him, a witness to his feeble state. Beaten by a gentle little shepherd of all things!
Useless. A sitting duck, defeated and without-
The lake glistened in gentle moonlight. They sunk to their knees in its shallows. It gleamed with pearlescent property, the moon obliviously blessing the scene with her beauty. The solitude was deafening.
His robes grew soggy, cold seeping into the fragile body, yet he made no move to fight it.
A hand touches his face--No, his hand--fingers trailing down the cool skin of his cheek before flinching back upon feeling a sticky sensation.
He was trembling, with palms stained with viscous red facing the sky.
Alone, wallowing in his despair.
He really was useless! His fellows had left him long prior, and he is unable to continue answering mindless questions that proceed to return. So much for being an entity of fathomless power and intellect.
He wonders if Deceit was plaguing his mind once more, or if his thoughts are his own.
A pathetic excuse of a laugh escapes his lips as his mind drones on, fragmented and choked out as he clutches at his head, the humorless sound turning into a sob.
He feels himself rocking forward, swaying like a frail plant in the wind. Abundant power and no need for rest, yet exhaustion claws at him all the same. Head pounding, pain splitting in his skull-
The usual need to remain upright abandons him, an odd phenomenon for a creature that is always poised in working hour after hour.
Some inner voice slithers to him past the self-deprecation that runs amok, telling him to get up himself. He was no damsel with a hero, and would never rise if he were to go now. No one would save him.
Despite this, he keels over without much resistance, eyes lidding in slow succession. He only knows the cold grasp of fatigue had taken him when the ringing in his ears subsides, with no cold plunge in milk following.