Wendigos Aren't Supposed To Be Nice

Wesley didn't smell anything out of the ordinary until the scent of sweet blood wrapped around him and caught his attention. It was animal blood, but it smelled good enough for him to seek it out. What he found was intriguing. Claire.

Without thinking about it, Wess shot out and grabbed the boar, using the surprise of his thievery to snatch it from her and end up high on an opposite tree. He laughed, breathless and good natured. "You look better, Claire." Then he canted his head, curious by her choice of camouflage. "Is that because of me? That's pretty smart, I can barely even smell you."

Wess was feeling playful; it was nice to be around a person without wanting to eat them. He ignored her anger. Truthfully, Claire just seemed like an angry, lonely girl. "Relax, I was going to give it back, I'm just playing with you." As Claire climbed the tree, Wess dropped the boar directly on her. She deserved it.

"You have to calm down, Claire. I'm cursed, and even I'm more laid back than you. Why do you have to assume the worst? I helped you, didn't I? I haven't even hunted around your den which, by the way, I know you haven't moved from.

Wesley jumped down, landing behind Claire and turning to look at her. He grinned, sharp teeth on display. "I wouldn't steal your food, Claire; the hunt is the best part. But why are you hunting? Shouldn't your wolf be doing that for you? You had a fever not too long ago."

"Ah," Wess thought about this, not put off by her irritation. "He must not know much about Wendigoes or me if he thought taking me to a den of food was a good idea." Wesley hummed in thought, then snapped his fingers and grinned at Claire. "But, I'm nothing if not a good sport, and I don't have much to do, so how's about I help you out? That boar won't be enough to feed a pack of wolves, and I'm a damn good hunter."

Wess was unconcerned about Attel's wounds. That had nothing to do with him disliking the wolf, or even not caring about him. Wesley thought in the cold, hard facts of an animal's mind. Things just were. The past and the future weren't significant concerns. They were in the present and hence needed to think in it.

He rocked from his heels to his toes and back again, waiting for Claire's response.

"That wasn't a good idea on his part," Wess mused. "He should not have done it if it would get him hurt. Survival of the fittest out here 'n' all." Wesley had the accent of a man who should have been wearing cowboy boots and a hat. Maybe at one point he had, but it certainly didn't fit the whole Wendigo aesthetic.

Wess shrugged, and his grin grew. Despite the sharp teeth, predatory glowing eyes, and blood stained fur; he looked childish. He clasped his arms behind his back, exaggerating his rocking. "I've got no reason to be cruel? I say what I mean and do as I say. Simple living. I can't recall if it has always been that way, but it makes things easier. No need to complicate everything with petty emotions you won't remember in a week."

When Claire requested he put the boar in a tree, Wesley grabbed the pig and hauled it up the tree he'd climbed earlier, securing it on one of the higher branches. He had no extra strength to speak for, but over the years of climbing trees, he'd gotten pretty skilled at it. Unfortunately, Wesley didn't obtain muscle easily. Boo.

She basically mushed him, which made Wess wonder if she was expecting a ride? He didn't mind, but he liked to be clear on those things. He shrugged and scooped her up, slowly to give her time to understand what was happening. He got down on all fours, letting her get situated on his back.

"Hold on tight; I run fast Like super fast." With that, he was off like a bullet. He ran fast all right, but only in short bursts. If Claire gave him any directions, Wesley followed them without hesitation. He was very glad for her little scent trick. It made this so much easier.

Wess stopped right before they hit the clearing, shielding them from view. He was enough of a hunter to stand down-wind. He hadn't noticed Claire nuzzling into his back, for it wasn't something the Wendigo thought about, but once she fell off him, he looked at her calmly and tilted his head to the right.

"Are you still sick?" Concern tinged his voice. He crouched down lower, rather than standing as he wanted to. Wess couldn't smell well enough to determine how many deer there were if there were any at all.

Although he knew Claire must have been a good hunter, living all the way out here with a pack of wolves, he still asked, "which of them looks the weakest to you?" Hunting was one of the only fun things Wesley still had in the world. Which was a real shame. How depressing was that? All he had to live for was killing and stalking.

The herd of deer in this clearing wasn't large, but the buck was, and it looked prepared to fight any creature that came for it or its people. The buck rose his head and looked around, snorting. Among the crowd of deer were a few young, frolicking without a care in the world.

Wesley himself might have attacked one of the weak or the young, but the buck was large and could feed a pack well. It wouldn't be enough meat to cover what had been lost, but it would be enough to make it clear that he was not only a threat but could be useful, too.