Private All teeth

[Vyn]

The path narrowed. Old cart tracks vanished into the dry brush and low, leafless trees. Less road, more memory of one. It suited her mood. The Pale had gone. So had Makaela, veering sharp and proud down the other way. She remembered the night and the teeth in the underbrush. Wasn't sure if it was better if the other woman found them or not. She clearly wasn't a Wagonfriend, so Vyn couldn't justify caring for her. But having someone's life in your hands, if only for a moment, always gave you the strangest sense of responsibility for their actions. Vyn never called after her. There are those of the Road and those it lets go.

The cut on her arm throbbed from beneath the wrappings. Pale was always costly work. And if there'd been any water left in her flask, she might've tried washing the shame off too. Not for the spirit she needed. But for the knife she'd ignored until it kissed her cheek. And for the part of her that almost called it back in anger. Didn't matter now.

Only the track was important.

It snuck west, shallow. Too wide for a deer, too uneven for hooves. And she'd seen prints like this once before. But these felt off somehow. She first thought of wolves and bears – but none of them quite fit. She crouched, allowing the horse to trail her. Mud cracked and hardened, sparse light hitting the trail. A few tufts of golden fur. Fresh enough. Bison didn't move like that. And she hadn't survived this long by ignoring signs when they were given.

She clicked her tongue and her companion stayed in place. If it came to it, it knew how to return home without her. That would still give the others news enough. Vyn descended the trail alone, teeth ready to tear at her cheek. Pale quiet in her bones.

Her steps slowed when she saw it – a great, hulking thing in the clearing ahead. Too big for a hare. Too wrong in shape for a bear. And next to it, a second creature. Small and still. Rabbit.

The air carried something wild. Vyn knew better than to raise her voice or make sudden movements. She simply stood there. Eyes steady. Cheek ready.

She was so tired of teeth.

 

[Kellis Loraevre]

Sometimes there was a reason why Kellis changed from a (seemingly) Elven physician who held so tightly to the Hippocratic oath that he actually did not know the first thing about fighting and combat to a giant, feral, golden furred beast. Usually it was due to a moment of emotion that was a hair too powerful for him to handle or hurt too much. Today... he was just unlucky. Maybe he had grown too hungry. Maybe his father or brothers recently happened upon a particularly sore spot in his soul in their daily reminders that he wasn't a real Elarmiel Elven noble. The only stroke of luck he did have in this particular situation was that he was nowhere near his family when he noticed the change was coming. It was always better to change alone than in the presence of his father.

Despite being, generally, the size of a bear in his primordial form, Kellis rarely caused much damage to others or their property... granted the property was not a garden, farm, or food stores. But, who could really blame a giant rabbit for digging up his weight in crops? Was that not better than him devouring their livestock, breaking down their doors, and hunting them for sport? Crops grew back a lot faster than limbs and lost cattle, although many who had found their fields upturned by the half-elf failed to see it that way.

"Kellis!" Cherche shouted from behind her larger lapine friend as she hopped to catch up to him. "Either slow down or let me ride on your back!" She was a quick rabbit for her size, but a single hop for Kellis was easily a few hundred for her. Normally, she tried not to pester him too much when he was shifted. She knew he couldn't help how he was acting. This did nothing for how exhausted it all made her though.

The giant golden beast slowed and retraced his hops back to Cherche before lowering his large head to press it softly against hers. It was an expression of apology.

"Thank you," she chirped back, pressing her head back against his, conveying her acceptance. He prepared to lower himself to the ground to allow Cherche to jump upon his back when he caught the scent of blood. Long, lapine ears shot up erect, listening for any sounds that might give him insight as to where said blood was wafting from. His flat, pink nose twitched as he breathed in the air, searching for possible danger. Yes, he smelled blood, but he also smelled... home. The scent of something warm and safe and buried in his body and blood from the days he was too young to remember. Something shaped like him, but black as a starless sky. He lowered his head, gazing out into the distance, but no one like him was there. Just something on two legs, with horns and... golden blood. His blood was gold as well.

"Are you like me?" ​

These were the words the stranger would have received if she could speak the language of rabbits. If she could not... well, she would likely just see a very large rabbit staring at her. Not in an aggressive stance, yet, nor one of fear. Simply watching and waiting for a reply he did not have the sense to know likely would not come.

 

[Vyn]

Vyn held to some hope before the beast took to its hind legs. At full stature, it made her swallow and shift back slightly. She'd seen bunnies do that. Looked cute back then. Looked absolutely terrifying at present. Her left hand reached back, not to the small blade at her hip, but behind her. Hoping someone would be there. Someone steadier. Jem, maybe. Or Jhima. Someone who knew what to do with something like this. But her groping only turned up cold air and upset grass.

The thing watched her. Not like a beast watches prey, but like it was waiting for something. Golden fur covered its frame, same as the tufts she'd seen before. A smaller rabbit lingered near its paws, watching just as silently. If that was its cub, Vyn knew she was screwed.

Her throat was dry. She felt the Pale's desire to come out, quiet, attentive. If she screamed and ran, she might have a chance. It would keep the thing busy. Long enough to reach the horse. Long enough to disappear. She didn't scream. Crouched slightly instead. Kept her eyes locked on it.

„You're alright.“ She said softly, as you might to a startled hound, or something broken. „I'm not here to hurt you.“ No steps forward. No sudden shifts. Just words, slow, steady. Dropped like breadcrumbs between them. „Easy now.“

She wasn't sure if she meant the words for the beast...or for the knot in her chest.

 

[Kellis Loraevre]

"Don't hurt her," Cherche chirped to Kellis at his side. "She doesn't have weapons." The poor little bunny felt such a great amount of responsibility for her friend when he was in this form. He didn't think clearly and in that way, he was almost more rabbit-like than her at these times. It would have been one thing if was rabbid-sized. Then the worst he could do was possibly gnaw a hole in someone's boot or dig up their campsite. Kellis was a rabbit the size of a bear, with a set of sharp teeth to match. This created a creature that could easily level a field of crops or stomp a person's bones in half if he was not careful.

Luckily, both in and out of his primordial form, Kellis would happy listen to Cherche. Almost more so when he was a giant beast. He had an instinctual drive to ensure her happiness. After all, she was the only one other than him in his colony. They needed to be there for each other.

Long, golden furred ears tilted forward. A signal of curiosity. The stranger had lowered herself. A good opening move. Kellis was not an overly dominant beast, but he would feign a show of dominance if it meant defending Cherche. In the stranger making herself smaller, he saw an attempt to show an intent for peace.

One, small hop forward. At least small for Kellis. Cherche had needed to make up the equivalent of about twenty body lengths of hers to follow him. He breathed in deeply, searching for the stranger's scent. Was it them whose blood smelled like home? Now that he was closer, the smell of blood was rattling something loose within his mind. The connecting cord between blood and duty. If there was blood, he was supposed to patch it up and make it stop.

"Which herbs kept the wound from rotting? Which leaves stopped the blood from leaking?"

 

[Vyn]

Stayed low. Took all her courage not to bolt. Didn't even dare breathe too loud. Just watched the enormous rabbit hop forward like this was all normal. Like something hadn't taken the cook last winter.

„You're.“ She offered, voice flat. „Very large.“ Voice careful, as if size was something she could negotiate. „Not that I mind. Big's fine. Great, really.“

Her hands remained clearly visible. It felt like she was trying to befriend a child or a pet, both tantrum prone, but small enough not to pose danger. The creature didn't look angry. Curious, maybe. Or lost. That scared her more.

„Don't suppose you're the sort that eats people?“ She asked the air between them. Would've cracked a smile if she wasn't worried her teeth might give the animal a start. „Because I'm mostly bones, and not the good kind. Ask anyone.“

She looked down at the smaller rabbit. „I'm not here for the little one, if that's what you're worried about.“ Points of her teeth still rested on the inside of her cheek. One could never be too safe.

„I've got a scarf. And some bread. It's not warm. But we could...share?“