Citizen 696 Tyrantine

This was stupid. This entire trip was a massive waste of his and everyone else’s time. It wasn't like he was the resource runner, when would he ever need to make a trip from Evdo to Atlas?? Kneeven’s rule that everyone had to schlep along after Patates and his stupid cart at least once so they ‘knew how to get around’ was a massive waste of time. 

That's… definitely why he was so far behind the caravan. Yep. Not at all because he was exhausted by the weight of his pack, or the raw bleeding edges of his paws from the constant plodding on the rough cobbles of the road. He wasn't even allowed to ride in the cart to rest, because he refused to be harnessed to it. He wasn't a pack animal after all! But Patates was a miser about only allowing those that helped pull to rest on it while the others kept the caravan in perpetually exhausted motion.

Tyrantine growled under his breath as he thought about the giddiness on Ryadis’s face as they were chosen to accompany the caravan. ‘Finally, a chance to prove themselves’ he had said. Tyrantine wasn't so sure. It seemed like a good way for Kneeven to kick them out of town for a while, especially since he and Aegon had been fighting so much. It wasn't his fault his ‘twin’s’ twin was such an annoying spikeball. 

Tyrantine’s growl died in his chest as his ears caught the leading edge of a faint sound. It rose and fell, floating through the forest towards him. It wasn't immediately clear what it was, perhaps just the call of some strange mammal that wasn't too common near Evdo, but.. Something about it set his teeth on edge. Pausing for a moment, Tyrantine tilted his head, his ears swiveling this way and that. If he could figure out where it was, perhaps he could figure out what it was, and get the fur on his spine to lay flat again. 

The sound died for a moment, and Tyrantine shook his head. He better get moving before Ryadis came running back to find him, he really did not have the energy to deal with his brother’s enthusiasm right now. He had only taken a few steps before a high, sailing note reached his ears. It wasn't a solid noise, having an almost shuttering, warbling effect. It was almost as if- Tyrantine’s magic lit, ripping the packs off of his harness. They crashed to the ground, a shattering noise issuing from one of them as he took off into the woods, his eyes wide. He knew that sound. That was the sound of a pup screaming for help, its little voice not strong enough to sustain the note. 

Patates had been pretty clear there weren't any villages, or even homes for the next few miles. What was a child doing this far out? And what did he think he was doing, charging off into the forest after a noise? His paws bled as he raced over the sharp undergrowth of the forest floor, already rubbed raw from the cobblestones and primed to break on every sharp stick and stone he crushed under his weight. His ears swiveled back and forth, leading his pawsteps forward as the sound first clarified into a wailing scream. Then it clarified into sobbing words as he got closer. The individual words were distorted but the pleas for help, for their mother, for their life, were all very clear. Tyrantine sped up. 

Pinpointing the voice, a strange scraping noise, and the snorts and grunts of boar layered under the screaming. The area was choked with ferns and bushes, young trees reaching their childlike hands to the sky, while trying to choke out their nearby siblings. Bursting through a clump of ferns and landing in a clearing barely big enough to hold him, Tyrantine was finally able to see what was happening. A monstrously large boar had treed a brilliantly ruby red pup in a young tree. The tree was already bowing and swaying with the weight of the pup, but the boar was goring the trunk, the core wood of the tree already exposed. 

“GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Tyrantine bellowed, leaping at the boar’ his arms aimed to land on the boar’s spine. Hopefully, landing on it’s spine with his entire weight would paralyze the massive thing, letting him take it out with… probably more gorey means than what he was used to. Tyrantine loathed to use his mouth to kill things, but it wasn't like he had a knife with him. His thoughts slammed to a halt as he realized the boar was turning, swiveling on its hindlegs to turn towards the loud screaming that had issued from behind it. Shit, this was going to hurt. 

Tyrantine’s paws slammed into the side of the boar’s face, the boar’s tusks ripping a long gash down the side of his left arm before he lit his magic, yanking the boar’s head up sharply. The boar screamed in rage, its mouth open and gnashing as it fought against Tyrantine’s magic. Tyrantine snarled, pain flooding his body as he landed on his injured arm. Red smoke was already pouring out of the cut, leaving faster than his blood even. His magic wavered, and he grimaced. He needed this to end now, the wound was just going to make his magic drain faster and faster the longer it was exposed to air.

Coiling his tail around the boar’s back leg, he wrenched with all his might while shoving the massive beast with his shoulder. The boar, already suspended in his magic and fighting furiously against it, was off balance already, and tipped wildly onto its side, screeching as it did so. Tyrantine snarled, setting himself on the boar’s sensitive belly and throat until the beast stopped moving. 

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Red was all around him, blood from himself and the boar, the mass cloud of diluted red magic swirling around the clearing, and the small pup who just about plucked up the courage to climb out of his tree. Tyrantine knew he was badly injured, the boar hadn't just layed there taking his attack. He couldn't imagine what horrors the pup was seeing as it picked its way across the clearing towards the combatants. Tyrantine had collapsed partially on top of the boar, that much he remembered. Squinting through the darkness that overwhelmed his vision, Tyrantine shifted his head towards the pup “Follow my scent back to the road till you find bags, and then scream.” Tyrantine’s blinking was getting longer and longer as he spoke, and he missed the pup’s response, but this was the only chance for him to be saved, he had to trust the little one was old enough to follow directions. Plus, he needed to get the pup away from the scent of blood as soon as possible. “Don't.. Don't worry. They’ll come get me.”

Author: Babykitten