I walk a lonley road....

"Ah," Tyrone said as she pulled away. "I knew you were going to do that." At first, he almost became lost in her blue eyes, intricately designed like delicate crystals. He blinked, licking his lips. "But, we'll rest after the hunt. That way, we'll have full bellies. And Fenrir above, I'm starving!" If it wasn't for one drive, it was another, and this time, it was food. "Let's go catch some elk or something, eh?" He raised his tail in the air, as if a king again. From what Barbos had told them, nobody owned these lands, so he could do whatever he wanted, just like back at the Oasis.

Knowing she would follow him now, he broke off for the trees, darting between oaks and birches alike. He didn't know his way around the forest, but it didn't stop his yearn to explore. He had learned to separate the scents, and now he followed the elk's, drifting in their favor. He loped over the soft earth and came upon a grassy clearing, where one could view the blue sky and the purple mountains. He stopped, his form hidden by the shadows of the trees. From where they stood was a small herd of males, young and old. He licked his lips. "Mmm... Lunch."

"I'll take the pointe," he said, his robust muscle rolling over his wide shoulders. For some reason, he was full of energy now, despite the long travel and the sleepless night before. He wanted to show off to Raven, prove to her that he was a hessian fit for courtship and mating. In addition, each time they had hunted so far, she had always been in the lead. It only felt right that it was turn to step up. He lowered his large bodice, hiding in the direct sun, his tri-colored plumage blending with the tall grasses around him. The scent of the elk came rushing towards them in the wind, and he licked his nose, inhaling deeply; what a wonderful smell.

He, too, had spied the younger male with the odd walk. He was bullied by the rest of the herd, their antlers shoved into him as he tried to get a good patch to graze at, but was pushed away. What was nice was that he was a sizeable catch for just two wolves, feeding for three. The male didn't appear to have hit maturity yet, but his antlers did start go grow. Tyrone kept his eyes peeled and his scent sharp on him, making sure his body was low, his footsteps light; though Tyrone was large, he knew how to use his stealth when it became necessary. His movements were slow, as more tortoise than wolf, but seeing as the elk could spy him with a turn of the head, he needed to be cautious. And, he had to wait for Raven to come around and block the elk's path, in case he did see Tyrone and run. Tyrone found himself a discreet place to stalk, hunched low, waiting for Raven's response...

Tyrone's eyes searched for Raven's. And then... there! He spotted the sparkling pair of blues, over in the shade, concealed by the shadows once more. "Oh, Raven," he said very softly to himself. "Always such a dark thing." He switched his sights back to his prey, who, now defeated by the majority of the herd to be an outcast, laid himself down in the sun. Tyrone grinned. This was almost too perfect. His tail raised ever-so-slightly in the air, looking like a bushel of grass that had risen. The young male didn't notice as he laid his head down, not bothering to watch out for predators. The herd, though, became very, very still; Tyrone waited, his eyes flashing to Raven's. He was giving her the signal, but knew they would need to wait until the herd either returned to their grazing or headed out.

They returned to their grazing. Tyrone's fixation went back to the small bull, licking his lips and stalking just a little closer... closer... closer... and then... He sprang, leaping for the male's wide-open side, his talons and teeth making contact with soft flesh. The bull screamed in surprise and stumbled up, but his deformed shoulder prevented him from going any further, making him topple down again. Tyrone leapt back and went in for his throat, but was blocked by the bull's spiked antlers. Tyrone pedalled backwards, careful not to get stabbed, orange eyes fleeting about for Raven and where she was. He didn't want her getting hurt, either.

Tyrone snapped and barked at the bull, dividing his attention between him and Raven, confusing him. The young male cried out and tried to stand, stumbling as Raven tackled his hind leg, her jaws set in place. When the bull made a swing for her with his antlers, Tyrone bolted in, his jaws wide and aimed for the throat. He was so focused on killing right then and there that he didn't see the bull's head come crashing down on him, knocking him clear out of the way before he even had a chance. Tyrone rolled on the ground, dodging the bull's dangerous hooves, smashing about all around him. His large bodice had protected him from the hurt of the fall, so he rose back up again, as if he had never even fell. He barked and darted this way and that, the elk's eyes following him, both angered and confused. When his prey's eyes began to roll in the back of his head and lose track of him, Tyrone leapt in again, wary this time of where the bull's head was. He darted down low underneath the elk and raised his jaws up, crunching down on cartilage and flesh, a waterfall of blood signifying that he had hit his jugular. The elk screamed one last time before passing out, toppling over to the ground, blood spilling from the tear in his neck.

But he wasn't dead yet. Tyrone bent down and tore out the rest of the bull's throat, so that there was an audible gasp and then a sigh; the soul had left. He licked his lips clean of the blood and grinned at Raven; right now, he probably looked like some psychotic killer with a smile like his. He glanced over to the herd - they had wandered away, but they had not bolted; they were now watching the two wolves, but didn't seem wary for any more. Perhaps they knew that wolves were not common visitors in these parts.

"Shall we dine, my dear?" Tyrone said, eyebrows arched. His voice was full of childish foolery, but he wouldn't have called her any term of endearment unless he meant it. "It's probably better that you and I eat now, and then separate some portions for later. We'll give that old fleabag a leg or something. Doesn't look like he eats much, anyways," Tyrone said, and then dug into the meat himself. Fenrir, he was hungry.

"Liver?" he coughed, sticking out his tongue, face twisted in disgust. "Gross! No thanks, you can have that. My mom always wanted me to eat it, but it always smelled like bad water to me. I tried it once... Didn't turn out well." Tyrone took a step back as she revealed the elk's innards, the hot flesh rising up in the morning air. He inhaled, licking his lips. "Dinnertime," he chimed, and dug in, chewing and swallowing as much as his stomach could handle. He left enough room for Raven, so she could eat with him - they weren't officially a pack or anything, so it didn't really matter about hierarchy. And, they were... Well, they weren't exactly mates yet, but Tyrone felt that they could at least be on equal ground.

When he felt as if he were going to explode, Tyrone moved away from the belly of the beast and gnawed on the strings and bones of the elk's front leg, the lame one. He chewed and pulled on the muscle until it could be yanked free, the cartilage holding the bone in place cracking and giving way. "There," he said, panting and wagging his tail. "Now the old hound can eat, and we won't have to worry about it... Meanwhile..." He strode a couple of paces away and collapsed in a warm patch of sun. Though they had rested before, it felt much more effective now. He hoped Raven would join him.

He closed his eyes, her warmth against his, basking in the sun. It was so nice, just laying here with Raven, his belly full of food and not having to worry about anyone intruding upon them... Well, there was Barbos, but the fleabag was probably passed out or humping a skeleton or something creepy or weird. Either way, he could wait to eat.

He cracked open an orange eye, looking down at Raven's dark form at his side. He suddenly found words on the edge of his tongue, his heart racing in his chest, but his lips were tight and his teeth were clenched. He... couldn't say it. He released a sigh, somewhat frustrated with himself, but knew that now probably wasn't the best time. Instead, he flopped back over, drifting off to sleep...

He was dreaming again.

This time, he was alone, walking through a dark, dark forest, much like the one he had visited recently. The woods were strangely quiet at this hour, his padfalls the only thing that came to his ears... no crickets, no owls, and not even the scuffling of a mouse. He inhaled, and when he did so, the scent was... of the desert? His senses were confused. This was definitely not the desert.

He came to a break in the trees, where he found a moonlit meadow. There, he saw Raven, her dark purple-coat shimmering like the heavens. Tyrone did not immediately approach, though - he remembered what had happened last time... with Miranda. She seemed to sense him even though she hadn't called him, turning her head, her blue eyes shining bright. It was her, he didn't have to be worried.

He began to approach, his gait easy, when he saw two small silhouettes rise up between her pillars. He stopped, staring at what he knew were puppies. One was very dark, his coat a deep brow, orange eyes burning into his. The other was a tri-colored female, her yellow orbs piercing straight through his soul.

And only one thought ran through Tyrone's mind: How had he forgotten?

Tyrone's left aud twitched at the sound of his name. He opened his eyes, the sunset-painted world blurred before him. "Huh?" he said, raising his head and finding Raven, warm at his side. He yawned, his pink tongue lolling past his teeth. He had terrible breath, or so he thought. "Wuzzgoinon?" he asked, licking his chops and scratching with his frontal paw behind his ear. Man, had that been a good nap... despite the nightmare.

A part of Tyrone wondered how the fleabag could chew with rotten teeth. He felt Raven nudge him and he caught her questioning gaze, though she said no words... Tyrone himself didn't sense anything out of the ordinary, but he knew that Raven was ever-more in-tune with the forest around him than he. She had grown up in these shadows, afterall. He looked up at the surrounding cliffs, not seeing anything but brush, trees, and sky. If there was someone hiding, they were doing it very well.

Despite the fact that he didn't see anything, he knew by now to trust her instinct. His eyes went back to Barbos. "I know we haven't spent much 'quality' time with you," he began, his voice slightly sing-song. "But Raven and I need to be alone for a while. We have some serious business to discuss. And I don't care how old you are and how it wouldn't matter to you. It's the kind of business where the less a wolf knows, the better." His voice was firm; he and Raven were going to keep their distance from Barbos, no matter what. They were just waiting for his corpse to arrive.