[Charon]

It had been easier in the moment. He hadn't thought it could get more difficult - he'd fancied himself so high and mighty, leaving his father alive to assert the fact that he was better. Then why didn't he feel better now? Why couldn't he feel anything but fear and absolute, crippling dread? He'd been running for days like a deer separated from the herd, eyes darting frantically around to scan the landscape but not actually seeing anything. He hadn't stopped to eat - he couldn't stop, couldn't let anyone catch up to him. He needed to get as far away as possible from that hellish, burning kingdom. Crow wasn't the only dangerous one there; he knew that slavers might come for him, to drag him back to his birthplace and drown him in the tar. He couldn't let that happen.

He would not. Let that happen.

It was determination and terror alone that kept him going. Already thin, Charon was looking quite sickly - the lack of food and brutal pace he kept up had begun to hollow out his form. Smooth black fur was riddled with scratches from bushes that he carelessly passed through as he avoided clear paths and open roads. Exhaustion dulled his silver eyes and weighed on his limbs. He couldn't keep doing this forever, and even the weather was turning against him now. It was cold, colder than he had ever experienced before in his life. The desert nights have been chilly, but it was nothing compared to this. The chill cut right through to his bones and he felt as if his whole body was shutting down. Moving helped keep him warm for now, but soon that would not be an option. He was weakening by the hour, strength draining from him each minute.

But They could be right behind him. He could feel their hot breath on his heels, hear their zealous howls. How much of it was real and how much was his own guilt? Did it even matter? Both would kill him eventually.

He forced his way through the underbrush and suddenly found himself in a small clearing. The momentum he'd used to break through the branches carried him forward too quickly and he stumbled. Once he began his descent, there was no stopping it - his legs struggled to brace up his body but he could not hold his own weight anymore. He fell to a half-bow first and then slid the rest of the way down, belly hitting the cold ground and feeling almost comforted. It was soothing...it was quiet here... he could rest... just for a moment. His eyelids began to fall, always snapping back open right before they closed completely. It wasn't safe. He wasn't safe. He had to keep going.

But his legs were so sore that they were going numb, and it was so cold, and it felt so good to lay down. A tiny white flake fell from the sky and landed on his scarred muzzle, and though he was perplexed he was too tired to react. More white flakes, cold and wet, began to fall down around him. What was this? He might have thought it was beautiful if it weren't so strange and uncomfortable. Was this the final joke the universe would play on him? Frozen water covering his corpse while he died alone in a foreign land?

It was fitting, wasn't it?

[Haize]

Snow had been rare in her homeland. It came once and shocked their systems, blanketing the sand and leaving a thin sheen of spider web cracked ice over their oasis. The children had played and elders gray in their fur looked upon a world changed with wonder. That felt like a lifetime ago. Tjenu had long since succumbed to a more vicious type of storm, claiming children with stars in their eyes and storied graybeards alike. None could breathe sand. Those that survived found themselves cast out from the only home they’d ever known. It had taken adjusting. There was less sun in these dark woods, and winter came more readily and frequently. It was cold and she found she didn’t care for snow beyond it being a passing novelty. Still, it was preferable to the memories of the graveyard formerly known as home. She would not forget, but she didn’t want to remember right now.

She left the boy who fled his home to his thoughts. They all had a journey to take and though Hyperion was young, he was no exception. She would not be the one responsible for squashing his dreams. Whatever he hoped to find out here, she sincerely hoped he would. They parted ways and the seasons changed. She did not return to his home, either. She sat on her suspicions and let them cook. There would come a time when she needed to go back, but she found that now that she was out here, she’d needed the air as much as the boy. They were all always waiting on the edge of the next disaster, balancing for their lives and daring the scales to tip. She needed to get her head on straight so that when the precipice beckoned, she would be READY.

So she set up camp. She haunted the woods and she talked to travelers who came by. They were always only passing through, names and faces she didn’t care to remember. It wouldn’t matter when it began to snow. It wouldn’t matter when the spring thaw came. All that mattered was that she figured out her game plan. That was what she told herself, anyway. She told herself that as the months wore on and snow fell and reminded her how much she fucking hated being this fucking COLD. The rope around her neck itched and frayed and she hunted to drive the thought of home from her mind and replace it with hunger.

It was snowing again. She’d caught a rabbit. It dangles limply from her jaws, a drop of blood falling onto virgin snow now and then, marking her path. She returns to the place she sleeps—it’s not home, it’s not even really home away from home. It’s just another place along the way. In truth, she’s not sure she even knows what home is, anymore. The rabbit is warm. She’s hungry. But there’s someone there, just beyond the ring of trees, snow lightly dusting the dark body.

Great, she finds herself thinking, someone’s come here to die. That just fucking figured. How was she supposed to eat now, with this cooling corpse fouling up the atmosphere? She sighs from her nose, breath rising like steam. She settles in to watch, as far from mercy as this poor creature could possibly desire. She watches and she wonders where the hell she’s going to go now. She wasn’t about to make her bed next to a corpse.

That was until she noticed he was still breathing. Something about the absurdity of someone actually choosing her stomping grounds to die in made her anger boil to life, rising in her gut and burning up the back of her throat. The acid fought to come out and she drops her meal with disgust, sheltering it between her forepaws. “Get the FUCK up!” she calls out to the stranger who decided today was the day he was going to defile her home, the fucking shit, “You sleep out here and you’re going to die, you fucking know that? Hey! Get UP.”

[Charon]

“Get the FUCK up!”

So his father had found him already. He couldn't muster the energy to react, other than to let out a long, resigned sigh and then let one silver eye roll over to behold...not his father. A stranger, not that that was necessarily any better. He couldn't recall the last time a stranger had been kind to him, and there was no reason to suspect that this one was any different. She was already berating him, after all - she just hadn't mentioned any gods yet. It was only a matter of time. Charon barely processed what she was saying as he struggled to lift his head off the ground, feeling like his skull weighed about a thousand pounds. Halfheartedly, he bared his teeth mostly because he could never miss an opportunity to express displeasure, even when his body was shutting down. The gesture was more pathetic than threatening in his current state, and he knew it, but he didn't care. If this strange woman was death, then he would spit in her face before she took him. It was the only life goal he had left that was still achievable.

She'd told him he was going to die here. As if he didn't already know. As if he hadn't always known. "So what?" he snarled, voice cracking from dehydration and lack of use. "Just kill me or go away." He laid his head back down on the snow, but he was not comfortable anymore. His peaceful descent into the void had been disturbed, and now he couldn't simply settle down and die. To his last breath, the world and all its inhabitants were a nuisance to him. Besides, he could smell the rabbit now, as indicated by an involuntary twitch of his nose. Hunger had been a wound gnawing at him for so long that he'd almost learned to ignore it - but not anymore. It was as if his body had awakened, as if it were ready to fight for its life again, as it always had, for reasons he'd never quite understood.

It was a shame he'd rather die than ask a stranger to share their food.

And she was still watching him. Probably planning all the various ways she was going to torture him before sacrificing him to whatever foreign gods she served. He watched her back through narrowed silver eyes, planning all the various ways he would torture her if he were stronger and (no, we don't need that anymore.) Looking at someone else forced him to look at himself, and he didn't like it at all. The less time he had to think about himself, the better. He was a new person now. Free. Different. He would have laughed out loud if his throat wasn't so sore. He would never be different; he'd never escape what he was. All of this was just a distraction from the inevitable end, and someone else was interrupting his last meaningful moments. He stared daggers at the stranger, clearing his throat and ignoring the pain in his stomach and the numbness in his limbs. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

[Haize]

The corpse moves, opening an eye and baring teeth. It was as pathetic of a display as he knew it to be. She didn’t give it the credit it deserved—he was still a wolf, even like this. He was fearsome and should command respect. He would, if he wasn’t a skin bag of bones slowly freezing to death. Instead her ears pin back and she stares at him like his head was on upside down. She’s reminded, briefly, of bones intertwined in their final embrace, and that just makes her angrier. It was bad enough that this mutt was here. It was worse that he’d made her think of them.

“You want to die?” she snaps back at him, fur bristling at the nape of her neck. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Right now, in general, period. She was never one to be surprised when she grew angrier still—there was always another button to push and no upper limit—but this was a cornucopia of Shit She Hated. He couldn’t have known that he was plucking all of her chords in dissonant lack of harmony. He couldn’t have known that she would be anything to him but another set of teeth. He was the thing she hated most of all—he was somebody that was giving up, and he didn’t even have the common decency of doing it somewhere private.

What are you waiting for?

What the FUCK are you waiting for?

“For you to get the fuck up,” she tells him again, eyes narrowing as her head juts forward. “If you’re going to lay down and fucking die, do it somewhere else.” Far away, where she would never have to find him. Fuck you, dad. And fuck you too, mom. “If you’re sick, I don’t want what you’ve got. I was here first. Go die somewhere else!” She lifts her lips to flash her fangs at him. She didn’t want to use them. Just go. “Give up some fucking place else, you hear me? Get the FUCK up and GO.”

[Charon]

“You want to die? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

What was wrong with him? How long did she have? Should he start with the fact that he was likely being pursued by a tireless demon who wanted to kill him who was also, by the way, his dad? Should he talk about the terrible things he'd done and the fact that he didn't entirely all the way regret those things? Or did she want literal, what was wrong with him right now - that he was starving and his body was giving up on him and he was resigned to his fate. "It doesn't matter what I want," he spat, "I'm dying anyway. So how about you give me a fucking break and let me do it in peace." He turned his head away dismissively, even though he knew it wasn't actually going to make her go away. He just wanted to hurt her, to punish her for whatever it was she was trying to do here. Help him? Charon didn't think so. No one had ever helped him and if she was to be the first, she had a funny way of showing it.

“If you’re sick, I don’t want what you’ve got. I was here first. Go die somewhere else!”

How unreasonable. Just like the rest of them. She didn't care that he was dying, not really, she just didn't want him to be an inconvenience. "I'm not sick," he grumbled, insulted by the implication that he was somehow contagious. All he wanted was to be left alone to rest; he wasn't going to try to take her with him. Unless she kept being irritating. She showed her teeth and he stared back indifferently, until she spoke those fatal words - she accused him of giving up. His face darkened visibly at that, eyes narrowing even more into little slits. "Giving up?!" he snarled, that all too familiar rage coursing through him yet again and igniting his blood. Involuntarily, he struggled to rise, legs wobbling like a newborn deer and still shaking even as he steadied himself. "Oh what, you think I'm just some pathetic kid who wants to die because he's sad?" He was too upset to realize the amount of projection going on - on both sides. "You don't know how I got here, you don't know what I've been through and you're only pretending to care because it makes you feel better about your sad, empty life. You live out here alone in this miserable, cold place? I bet you're having a GREAT time." He wanted her to run away and cry so that he wouldn't have to think about her anymore. He didn't want to think about himself anymore. He just wanted to be alone. Truly alone. Silent. He'd never had that.

"I deserve a fucking BREAK!" The last surge of emotion exploded from him as he shouted and slashed one foreleg through the snow, kicking up a cloud of white dust in front of him. Unfortunately, the exertion used up the last of the energy he'd been clinging on to in order to remain standing. His legs gave out from below him and he fell onto his belly in the snow like the helpless fucking baby he truly was. Charon let his head fall down limply, face dropping into the snow up to his eyes. Maybe this would help him freeze faster. Maybe if he couldn't see the girl anymore, she'd disappear.

[Haize]

This really was a peachy shit pie, wasn’t it? They collided like all unstoppable forces and immovable objects do, stubbornness and tenacity keeping them standing but prohibiting them from growth. This was the pot calling the kettle black. Anger meets anger and in the end it has nowhere to go. He wasn’t an acceptable target for hers, though it still frothed in her throat as he challenged her stance. He’s dying anyway, so why interfere? Is it really because this is where you lay your head and him being here offends you? Or is there something else?

Intertwined legs and spines, mother hugs father and both become dust. A lost child engulfed in his own rage and self pity. Her alpha, rendered into so much torn meat. People she should have helped. People she could have helped. People she tried to help. Did any of it matter, in the end? The person she needed to have been helping all along was herself. Her teeth flash in the dying light and a hot breath hits the air. God, that fucking rope itched like hell. Oh, what a symbol of her strength. Her perseverance. Her honor. Here it all went up in smoke, plumes of sand and snow consuming everything she tried so hard to love (and fiercely devoted herself too, despite it all, despite everything).

“Fine,” she says as evenly as she can, unable to keep the edge out. Everything she said came at the expense of somebody else’s blood. Her tongue was sharp. It always had been. She should feel sorry. She couldn’t if she tried. But the one who came to die wasn’t finished yet! Oh, no. He flings himself into their spar with renewed fervor. Not contagious? She disagrees. His bad mood was spreading like a foul storm. She’d caught it the second she saw him. At least he was on his feet. Maybe he’d fucking leave. Maybe he wouldn’t die on her doorstep after all. Oh, she fucking doubted that. That wasn’t how life worked for her. She should eat. She should go to sleep. It’d be hard fucking work burying this piece of shit in the morning with the ground frozen over.

She lets him have his moment, growing annoyance far from masked. She displayed it proudly as he made his stand and stamped his presence into the world around him. It wouldn’t matter. Not if he was just going to lay down and fucking die. No, Charon, sorry. She wouldn’t run away and cry. She wouldn’t lay down and accept fate as it came in the form of ice and snow. She watches him crumple and she growls, “Yeah, everyone always thinks they have the most troubled fucking past. Congratulations.” He was one of many, his trauma was his life just as it was for the ones who came before, the ones who would come after. “You’re fucking right, I don’t know. You don’t know fuck all about me either.”

And he never would! Because he was face down in the snow. Maybe she wouldn’t see him at all in the morning. Maybe he’d be covered over. She could leave, set up camp somewhere else, and forget this ever happened. But she’d never really been any good at that. Just like she’d never really been good at bedside manner. Why had anyone ever put her in charge of counseling others? What a fucking joke.

She’s quiet for a long time. The snow falls and it seems, maybe, just MAYBE, he’s gotten the break he wanted. In reality, she’s weighing her options. Was it safe to stay here? Was he going to get up again? The sun was setting, and she was HUNGRY. She eyes the rabbit at her feet, lips pulling back in a silent, unpleasant grimace. Steam still rose from the corpse. She snatches it up and stands at the precipice, half turned to go. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. Don’t look over the edge. Just fucking go.

God, she’s a fucking idiot. Fucking bleeding heart piece of shit, god fucking damned asshole sob story getting cold in the fucking SNOW. She snorts with disgust and approaches his final resting place. Not close enough that he could pop from the snow and lunge for her legs, but close enough that with a toss of her head the rabbit sails towards him, sinking without elegance into the snow nearby. Bloodied muzzle wrinkles and she advises him, knowing he didn’t want to hear it, “If you stay out here you’re going to fucking freeze to death.” She pauses, then turns, “You fucking idiot.”

That was it. She was done. She starts to leave the clearing, already considering how much light she had left to hunt by. Maybe she could find another sleeping warren and wouldn’t have to spend the night hungry.

[Charon]

“Yeah, everyone always thinks they have the most troubled fucking past. Congratulations. You’re fucking right, I don’t know. You don’t know fuck all about me either.”

Even while his face was buried in the snow, he frowned. Pointed ears flicked toward her, the only sign that he was listening. She was right, of course, and that just pissed him off more. So what if he didn't know her? She didn't know him either...they didn't know each other. Neither of them fucking mattered anyway, they were both alone in some frozen woods and when they died their bodies would be picked at by woodland critters until they were unrecognizable. It was easier to dismiss them both rather than have to consider life from another person's perspective. For eternity, it had been Charon alone among the beasts, mindless drones who knew nothing but worship and death. His father... was no different than any of them. He'd just seemed more enlightened somehow, at first. But he knew better now.

Charon, alone.

Again.

The stranger was quiet now. Good. He laid still for a few more seconds, waiting to die, but it was taking so long and the ice was hurting his nose. He lifted his head up slightly, peeking above the snow, just in time to see an object come flying at his face. He flinched backward as if she'd thrown a grenade - he'd been lying in the snow one second and then he was standing a few feet away, tense and panting. His assailant was already walking away. "Hey-!" He cut himself off when he realized the object was, in fact...food. Silver eyes narrowed suspiciously at the offering. Was it poisoned? It must be poisoned, this was all just a trap. He guessed he wasn't dying fast enough for her - she probably planned on eating him once he'd perished. Not that he had much more meat on his bones than the rabbit did.

“If you stay out here you’re going to fucking freeze to death. You fucking idiot.”

Ears folded back again, face still twisted in what he thought was a frown but was really closer to a pout. "I'm not a fucking idiot," he grumbled quietly to himself before his gaze slid back over toward the rabbit. His stomach growled. How long had it been since he'd eaten? No, no, he would have to be a fucking idiot to accept food from a stranger. But he was so hungry... "Hey!" he called again, hoping to get the mysterious angry stranger to stop. "How do I know this isn't poisoned?" He tried to sound intimidating, but his voice was shaking along with the rest of his body. And what kind of answer was he even expecting? It's not like he was going to just take her word for it. "You should take a bite first." That seemed like a reasonable request to make a stranger who'd just offered him free food when he was dying in the snow. If she refused, then she'd been caught in her nefarious act. He'd have won - until she just decided to attack him and finish the job herself. He wasn't sure he would be able to fight her, but at least he would die honestly instead of being tricked.