Floki || 5 || Omega || M: Survivors (Ind), Valdemar

The large male sat in the middle of an empty clearing. Once, it had been part of the Viking pack's denning area. It had been clean -- pristine, really -- and warm; now, the life was drained out of it. Blood puddles had since dried, marring the earth with dark crimson and black stains. Floki's own fur was matted with the substance. Some of it was his own; most of it was not. Torn clumps of fur still decorated his claws, and his muzzle was dark with spatters of blood. His teeth had since whitened again, though he could still taste the metallic tang when he swallowed.

He sat alone with his thoughts. Floki was not at all disturbed or riled up; rather, he radiated a calm, collected aura. There was no fear, no anger, not even satisfaction towards the events that had transpired days ago. Once again, Floki had taken up a warrior's mantle, if even for a brief moment, and had fought to defend something he cared nothing for.

Why had he done it? He'd been asking himself this question for a few days, now. Even after the bloody battle had ended, after the corpses of mothers and sons and daughters had been moved away from the living, even after he had spent hours hunting for the pathetic survivors, Floki still could not tell himself why. He could have just left. He could have hunted for himself or taken the opportunity to leave the pack. Floki could have turned and helped the attackers.

But he hadn't.

Now, he was left with an existential crisis, alone in this little bloodbath of a clearing. The male sighed, grimacing slightly as barely scabbed slashes along his ribs reopened with the sudden movement. In the near distance, Floki could hear the Earl's pups whispering amongst themselves. Another wolf had stayed with them -- thank the gods, because Floki certainly wasn't about to do so. He wouldn't have let them die, but there was no way he would have stayed with them himself.

Floki stood and stretched out his stiffened body, ignoring the new trails of blood that burst from his wounds. He could take care of that later. A faint, commanding bark caught his attention and he pricked his ears. Still quite a ways off, but he recognized that voice. Valdemar. So, they had returned. A bitter, grim smile spread across the male's maw. Oh, and what a return it shall be. He swallowed in an attempt to wet his throat before tilting his head back to release a hoarse and bone-dry, yet still bellowing, howl.

He was at his strength's end. Nearly every survivor had sustained terrible injuries, as far as he'd seen, and some had succumbed since the fighting had ended. Floki was tired. He just wanted to lay down... close his eyes... No. Floki's gaze hardened as he limped a little closer in the direction he had heard the Earl.

Floki had gone on several patrols over the past few days, padding throughout the immediate territory and along where the intruders had attacked from. Still, he could not be certain that all had left. He had given his location away just then, and he intended to stay in that general area until the others arrived. It was a risky move, yes, but he needed the raiding party to hurry. The survivors were all banking on a swift return.

They had all evaded death. He himself felt as though he was on its doorstep. If he died, it would be away from those dumb pups; they had seen enough carnage, and he didn't like them anyway.

The Lady froze, gaze hard as it danced across her mates features. Perhaps there was danger- what danger? Had danger ever forced their pack to not come for water? How long had the pack been struggling? A bear wouldn't have stayed for days, and they hadn't seen one--there wouldn't be days old scents if there were any natural dangers around.

Valdemar's order to stay still had her blinking, and moving a roaming gaze across the raiding party. Many of them had noticed the scents, many more would soon piece together what may have happened, more still would grow furious. They raided packs, it was their way of life, but they didn't attack those defenceless. They didn't wait for most of the pack to leave, for everyone that could fight in a war to be away.

Valdemar confirmed her fears when he said that the body in the water was one of their own wolves.

One of their own, when no one had been to drink for days, and the area was eerily silent.

"Valdemar-" She started, taking a step towards him, before a piercing noise shattered the silence. Her thoughts caught up the same moment the large male spoke the pups name; she was their mother, she'd recognize the sounds of her offspring anywhere.

She barely had a chance to nod at the order before she was turning away, loping towards the sound, strides long and even, even with her aching muscles and twinging wounds. Why was Thyra so far from the valley? Had she run away? No, Thyra wouldn't do that, so why-

"Thyra? Thyra, where are you?"

Whispers.

Mutterings.

A thump of a small body.

The smell of blood.

She walked towards the sounds, pushing ferns aside, mad with a mother's frenzy to find her children.

The distinct smell of a dead body hit her first, and she growled low in her throat, pushing forward until the coats of her children came into view. Quiet, small, with a body next to them.

Frida. Frida was the body. Frida the mother. Frida was dying, and had been dying to save her children from whatever unfortunate fate awaited them.

"Oh, my babies," she whispered, ears angled backwards, slowly walking backwards in hopes they would follow her retreat. "Oh, my babies," she repeated, turning chilled eyes towards the pack wolves that had followed her.

"One of you, go and report to Earl Valdemar that I've found three of our pups," she paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, nearly choking on the suffocating smell of Frida's body. "The rest of you, fan out, search the area, I need to know if there's any other packmates nearby, and then we'll go and join Earl Valdemar's side of the search."

What the hell happened here? What happened for Frida to hide her children so far away from the camp? Where was Raum? Why was Frida dying?

"Before you report to Earl Valdemar, tell him that the Mother Frida is also here, but she dying from fatal wounds," she added. "I'm not sure if there's anything we can do for her, but send uninjured omegas from the raids here just in case."

Connie||Female||5||Mother||M:Viking pack, Nehri, pups, Caretaker(Npc)

Connie had been with the caretaker from the beginning but they didn't talk much. She noticed the sounds at camp and said "I will check it out." She whispered she trotted towards camp before coming upon the pack. She almost cried saying "Lady, Earl, and everyone is that you?" She was shocked and trumamtized from the attack. Connie walked up to Nehir and said "Pls come with me." She began to lead the Lady towards were the pups were with the caretaker while Connie knew where they were was only because the two diffferent hiding spots were away from each other only by a little bit. Connie was skinny just a bit but she would surive although everything took a toll on her. Connie and been a bit on edge since the attack and didn't let her guard down even tho her pack was here. She finally reached the spot and said "Look in there." She trotted to another bush a little ways off sitting down before waiting to see if she had actually Been imaging talking to the Lady and pack. She had to admit that she may have been imagining things again.

Baron | M | 8 | Omega | M: Viking Pack Indirectly

The old male was bleeding all over. New blood that was trickling down from his wounds but it was slow and painful. His pelt mangled and turned. His back paws were even rebroken a bit with a broken jaw. He has been out for days and not even realizing it. His serious injuries were fatal and he could feel his life source just slowly draining. His eyes traveled to some of the survivors. They were hiding and the Pups were with Frida who he believed has passed.

He closed his eyes in painas he scorched himself to the middle of the clearing. His senses kicked in as he could hear the Viking Pack's arrival. He knew he fought hard and tried his best. But he felt as a failure. He knew the pack that attacked or he believed he did. But the more he tried to fight to survive but moving and not closing his eyes. The harder it was to stay awake. He growled to himself,"Push Baron... Wait for them to find you..."

The air was filled with a deafening silence. How could no noise possibly make such a loud sound? It was ripping his insides up and pounding against his skull. No birds, no movements, just stillness. Pure, endless stillness. It was driving him mad. It came to the point where his lips began to twitch, a small sound striving to escape his throat so that he can make a noise.. Any noise to break the quietness. He almost did it, too, had somebody not finally moved.

His head had angled to the side, his eyes peering at the shuffling. His mother, Nehir, was advancing, making her way to the Earl. Valefar had known something was off, but the way his mother moved had only convinced him further. His mother had not stopped to greet him. She didn't even look in his direction, her eyes fixated forward as she strode past him. The only thing he received from her was a gust of air as her body passed his.

His eyes remained upon his mother before breaking contact. Instead, they searched for his sister, Viveka. When he had espied her, he remained staring at her, content that she was alright before shifting his gaze back onto Isane. Leaning against her slightly, he remained silent, following suit like the rest until it was finally broken.

"Days old scents," his mother spoke, to which Valefar's eyes narrowed, his body taking a few steps forward. He had listened closely as his father spoke next in attempt to reason, only to soon enter the body of water. He was headed towards something, but what? Squinting, Valefar made an attempt to figure things out, but had paused, noting his father's fur bristling.

"He found something," he spoke to Isane, narrating the scene to her as if she were not there herself. "Something bad." For his father to act in this manner meant that something dire had happened. Something terrible-

Valefar's head shot up, his body still.

A sound had rung through the air, but it was not a bird nor another animal. It was Thyra, his sister. He could recognize that voice anywhere, but why was she so far? She was not in the direction of the valley. He knew Thyra. He knew that she wasn't one to wander so far. He.. He needed to go find her! He needed to locate his sister and the others! Valefar had began to move after his mother, but was halted by his father's words as the rest broke out into a run.

"The rest of you, come with me."

For a moment, he contemplated who to follow before ultimately choosing his father, knowing that his mother would ensure the safety of his siblings. It was who they needed at the moment, not him. So, angling his ears back, he broke out into a run in an attempt to catch up to the departing pack members.

He had increased his gait, brushing past various members before he was nearly alongside of his father. Only then did Valefar match his gait, muscles tensing as he propelled himself up the small hill. Panic threaded through him the more they neared, the smell of blood taking up all of his senses. It was overpowering, it was metallic, it was everywhere.

On he strode, getting closer, and closer to the clearing, until Valefar suddenly halted.

Blood was everywhere.

Among it, the bodies of their fallen pack members.

Freydis || 3 || Warrior || M: Raiding Party, Survivors

The female's gait held a certain satisfaction to it as she moved along towards the back of the group. Her chest and throat ached a little from a few well-placed claw marks, and her legs felt a little stiff from their own, more minor, wounds; overall, her mood was one of contentment. There was hardly ever any expression of joviality or pride on her features, and now was certainly not the exception. While she had not captured a pup or brought back spoils like luxurious furs, she had managed to beat back several larger opponents and snag a particularly large femur bone that appeared to have been carefully etched in strange patterns by someone's teeth or claws.

Freydis was content in having defeated her opponents; whether or not she brought things back from raids seemed rather trivial to her, as she was not drawn to prettier things like some. She was certainly not planning on ever capturing a pup -- at least, not until she had someone to raise one with. Even then, taking a pup was risky, no matter the age. Occasionally, trauma got the best of even those with the greateste potential, and Freydis had enough familial drama in her life without wayward adopted offspring.

It seemed only Radgridr (help me out here) had brought home a puppy, or she was just the only one Freydis had seen with one. It would be made clear eventually, but now was not the time, nor was the information necessary. All Freydis cared about right now was getting home and cleaning herself off properly. Some dried blood still clung to her, especially around her more noticeable wounds and those areas that she had trouble reaching. The smell was irritating.

Wait.

She wasn't smelling her own blood. Freydis's demeanor changed from her usual languid state to one of rigid attention. The scents on the air were stale and unsettling. The others around her were growing uneasy as well, causing Freydis to furrow her brow and raise her hackles. As Valdemar and Nehir moved forward, Freydis hung back. Did she want to know what had happened?

The forceful nature of the Earl's orders confirmed to her that she did not want to know what had occurred. She could see a lifeless form in the water and could smell the decaying film around it from her current place among the other living wolves. She watched as the others separated into the two groups and decided that she herself would follow Nehir. The Lady was already speeding off towards the sound of a fragile howl, obviously that of a pup. Judging by the urgency in Nehir's gait, it was one of her own.

Freydis nearly bolted off in a different direction as she recognized the howl of her brother, though the message behind it seemed to be only that others were alive and well enough to be howling. Reassured, the young female continued after the Earl's mate, finally coming to the place where a handful of wolves guarded three of Valdemar's and Nehir's newest litter. Blood and carnage surrounded them all, but it seemed as though the greatest sources of the rotting smells were further away. They must have all run out further... that explained it. She looked down at the three shaken pups.

Freydis's heart sank. Only three? Hadn't there been at least five? She couldn't recall exactly; they'd been away for so long, but she knew for certain that there had been more than three pups in the pack when the raiding party had left. Connie, one of the mothers, looked beaten down beyond belief, and the omega guarding the pups looked extremely haggard as well. Frida, another of the mothers, was obviously nearing death. Freydis grimaced.

"I'll tell him," Freydis offered after the Lady's words had ended, raising her head from where it had lowered. "I'll be right back."

Her haunches lowered and she turned on a dime, lunging back in the direction she had just come from with the rest of the group. As she placed newfound energy reserves towards reaching the Earl, she found that it did not take long at all before she was in front of the lare male and those who had gone with him. Why had she volunteered to be the bearer of the bad news, again?

"Earl..." she swallowed and took a sharp inhale to stop her panting. "Frida is at death's door; Lady Nehir has sent for one of the omegas to attend to her immediately. Three of your pups are safe."

Freydis dared not elaborate on her last sentence. She doubted that more had made it through; over here, the carnage was much, much heavier, and she assumed that it would have been hard enough to save three of the offspring, let alone every pup in the pack. After all, they hadn't left too many wolves behind. They'd never needed to. Freydis dug her claws into the blood-soaked earth and, with a furious but broken expression on her face, raised her gaze to meet that of the Earl.

Zoran | Nomad | Mentions: Open

The large canine passed through the forest. Brilliant reds and oranges decorated some trees, a sign that the colder months were around the corner. But it wasn't too chilly yet. There was a little chill in the air, but it was nothing that bothered Zoran. His thick pelt of creams and browns was quite thick and long, giving his already large appearance a bit of a boost. The wolf blended into the scenery nicely as he weaved between the bushes and the trees. Sunlight that peeked through the treetops speckled his pelt handsomely.

His white maw parted for a moment, murmuring something to himself as the wolf paused to take a breath. The usual scents met his nose: forest, squirrel, old deer scents, mud, and... the metallic tang of blood. Just a hint of it, though. But the scent was enough for Zoran to flick an ear as a sign of interest and turn his head to survey the area. Blood usually meant food or scraps. The idea of some food right now, even scraps, was enticing to him. Yesterday he had managed to kill a couple field mice and squirrels. Perhaps today something larger was on the menu?

With a new glint in his russet and golden eyes, Zoran turned course, now following the scent of the blood that barely tinged the crisp air. His ears remained perked upon his head, knowing that he must remain alert. Being a lone wolf, he had learned a couple things or two about survival. And one does not simply survive by wnadering around aimlessly. No, you need to stay alert and be observant to stand a chance.

After following the scent for a short walk, the male came into the view of the lake. He still remained a safe distance away, stopping in his tracks as he realized what else had permeated the air: pack scent. At the first hint of it, he took cover behind some bushes, hiding himself from view from the group of wolves who were gathered by the lake and beginning to spread out into what seemed to be two groups. He was still downwind of them, so his scent was not being carried toward them yet.

Zoran narrowed his eyes, watching as they seemed to be investigating the area... But it was theirs, no? What were they looking for? He had come to the realization that he was definitely on their territory, but that was not his largest concern at the moment. Right now, he wanted to figure out what was going on. A group of them had rounded a corner and had left his view though, disappearing into their private valley he had yet to know about.

The smell of blood was obvious now. It was thick in the air, almost impossible to ignore. And it wasn't the smell of prey or food, it was wolf blood. Zoran's ears flicked before laying flat against his head with unease. What was going on here?

The young brute had never been one to take many things from their raids. He knew some took offspring, some took mates, some took omegas, others took things like bones and trinkets, anything that caught their eye. He often returned empty handed, occasionally with a pelt that had looked particularly nice for his den.

This raid, he'd returned with no spoils for himself, keeping guard while his packmates took to their hearts desires, the only thing he earned being the scabs across his body. None were particularly bad or spoke of hard-won victories, scratches across his legs, one across his chest, and marks across his shoulders where someone had tried to grab him and just dragged their teeth and claws across his frame.

The forest was eerily quiet, oddly silent, not a single song of a bird, not a squeak of a mouse. He frowned, walking nearby his mother, standing just to the side of her flank, while keeping a close eye on his little sister, Viveka, who was walking near him.

His mother was... off. She wasn't quite as relaxed as she normally was on her way back from raids, but the large male chose not to speak up, keeping his head hung between his tall, broad shoulders. She was the Lady, any number of things could be troubling her, and he knew she wouldn't talk to him about them in-depth. She feared overwhelming her children, she'd told him herself. No matter how much he tried to insist he was an adult now, or how much he tried to say he could help, she told him no.

"Ma?" He muttered as she began walking faster, lifting his head slightly, voice deep and baritone. He paused, just as other members of the pack did, but his eyes latched onto his mothers pale figure walking between a sea of grey, brown and tan. The way she brushed past Valefar and Isane without even saying hello, the way she strode right up to their father and past him and just dropped her head.

Dezo grunted to grab his sisters attention before advancing to stand beside Valefar, a silent pale presence for his siblings, as he often was.

"Days old scents."

Ah.

Dezo closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep himself in check, almost choking on the stench of blood surrounding their home. He lifted his head, eyes drifting from his parents to the other members of the raiding party. Whatever had happened was getting to everyone, people were noticing.

A broken howl, a howl of a pup.

Thyra.

Valdemar's harsh voice jumped across the pack, and Dezo was already moving towards his parents. The pale body of Nehir shot off towards where the howl had come from, away from their valley, and he was tempted to follow her. Offer her the support he knew she wouldn't take, offer her a place and person of comfort and familiarity for whatever she would find there.

He decided against it, jerking his body to the side to follow Valefar when the apprentice took off after their father. The pups needed their mother, and the Lady had enough packmates to help her look. Their father needed their help to see the damage done.

The stench of death invaded all of his senses so overwhelmingly that Dezo nearly gagged, taking long, powerful strides to come up beside his father and brother. Blood squelched on the ground beneath his paws, and his heart sank slowly, and then it seemed to turn to stone and plummet in his chest when he saw what laid before them.

Bodies. Bodies everywhere. Bodies of their packmates, bodies of their brethren, bodies of those that had raised and cared for him.

He angled his ears back, stepping forward to press his body against the figure of his brother in silent support.

The pale male had been just about to open his mouth and talk, when a tan figure came into view. Freydis, a female warrior in the pack, was approaching, and swiftly.

"Frida is at death's door; Lady Nehir has sent for one of the omegas to attend to her immediately. Three of your pups are safe."

Dezo released a breath, unsure of whether to find the news sad or not. At least someone had survived, even if it wasn't... Everyone, or as many as they would've liked. He dropped his large head, pushing it up against whichever sibling was closest as he awaited his fathers orders.