Southern Comfort - Open

[linc]

The woods were quiet tonight. Peaceful even. There was barely a noise to be heard but for the occasional gust of wind through the branches, causing twigs to scrape against each other above and below his perch. The day's rain had woken a hundred sleeping smells and made them strong again; every breath brought with it a fresh smell of young greenery to signal that spring was finally here. He could also hear a nearby stream, the way the water babbled over the rocks as it slowly made it's way to the lake further ahead. It would have been calming... if you weren't Lincoln Walker.

Shifting a bit, the hunter put the blade he had been sharpening down and picked the bottle of Southern Comfort up instead; it was not as sharp as his machete, so to speak, but it did have a certain bite to it that he favored in that instance. He had not showered in a couple of days, but that should not matter since he was upwind and his prey was going to go downwind as far as he could tell. His legs were numb from sitting so long and his bladder felt like it was about to burst, but he held it in; this was too important to interrupt simply because he had to take a tinkle in the woods and because his toes felt tingly. What he needed was for the beasty to show up so he could end this hunt; the hunk of meat and the fresh trail of blood were a good enough decoy, but if not, he'd have to resort to something else.

As if on cue, movement made the muscles in his body tense. Slowly, Lincoln put the bottle down on a lower branch of the tree, balancing it there for later use. He picked up his crossbow instead and carefully drew the string back, nocking a bolt in the process with expert ease; he had been hunting in these backwoods since he was a small boy, after all. He knew the woods better than he knew any city, that was for damn sure. Making no sound what so ever, he now pulled the crossbow up and placed it in the ready position, narrowing his eyes as a movement and shadow moved past about ten yards away. His finger tightened on the trigger, ready to release the bolt and to take out the beast he had been waiting to get a clear shot at for the last few days, but he stopped.

That was no damn Rakshasa... that was a human.

[kierrannovak]

He hated the South. It was hot and humid even at night. The only good thing about the dense wilderness was the fact that without the city lights, the stars could be seen as well as the moon. But still, the heat always got to him. Even after spending time in the army overseas, Kierran could not function well. It made him snappish and his attitude ugly, a dangerous combination to have in the Alpha werewolf. Having to leave Seattle yet again had not been on his plate, but somebody had gotten too close and he had to take care of it. Kill one and then lead the chase as far away as he could. A few days ago, Kierran had shook them loose before stumbling into a territory that had not been his. This was someone else's hunting grounds.

Not an Alpha though, something lesser than such. He didn't care much though of whose territory he was navigating through right now, if anything, they should be thanking him for leaving a dead human around for them to collect. Heartless, but still, bottom feeders shouldn't be too picky. Last thing he heard from civilization, the attacks had sounded like a Rakshasa, but Kierran lacked the respect needed for any monster other than his own. But there was one thing now that he had to deal with, and that was getting back to Seattle and out of this personal hell. He moved forward through the brush now, not bothering to be stealth about breaking limbs at all. As far as the Alpha was concerned, there was nothing to worry about.

But then that wave of blood hit him like a smack in the face. That coppery smell that was so hard to shake some times, and it baked in even at night with the heat. The smell could cause some to go stir crazy, but he couldn't even tell if it was human or animal. There was something else in the mix there, something that already dead and he wasn't referring to what he had left behind. Curioustiy grew in Kierran for a moment as he headed towards the smell. Each step he took made the scent grower, pulling him closer to what he about convinced himself was a dying animal. And then, he spotted it with it's powerful smell. A piece of meat and pools of blood, endless blood now. Trails were skirting about everywhere yet they all circled in on this spot.

Kierran's head cocked slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing for a moment. It's a trap. Certainly not for him, for that Rakshasa, "Shit..." he hissed under his breath. He got rid of two hunters only to find himself with a third, and an unrelated one to the party also. A gentle breeze picked up, something that felt like a rarity but it carried something with it as well. Even with the blood pool surrounding him now, that breeze carried the scent and stench of human sweat, grit, and booze. Kierran's head snapped towards the direction in which it had come, eyes searching out until he caught it. Ten yards away. The Alpha did nothing but stare though, keeping abnormally still. The moon was out and that was all what he needed to change into his wolf form, but he felt no need to just yet even though his anger was bubbling now. He'd let the hunter make the first move, or maybe he'd be really lucky and that stupid Rakshasa would show up.