Bite

In the dusk of evening that was darkened further by the forest's canopy, Canada cursed himself and cursed the bloody polar bear he'd left back at his cabin. He should have asked for better directions he realized sourly. But when he heard about poachers...well, he never did do his best thinking when his polar bear brought home murdered wild life.

"The bear said go to the woods," he muttered as he stalked through the forest undergrowth. "Go to the motherfucking woods," he repeated; "Where in the fucking woods!?" He swore. "Why the hell didn't you ask, you idiot?!" He snarled accusingly at himself. His anger startled away birds and squirrels left and right as he went. However, he couldn't bring himself to care. Not today. No, Canada had been told to go to the woods. His bear kumo-what's it put a decapitated wolf cub at his feet in the middle of his dinner.

Why the hell the thing had been out here was beyond him, (it's not like he starved him back at the house) but he really, despite it all, he was grateful. He couldn't live with himself knowing there were people out here killing wolves-wolf pups. And it wasn't even goddamn hunting season! Pausing mid-stomp, the blond raised his special hockey stick up and listened with half an ear.

"I think I saw 'er go that way..."

Some more tromping. "Naw, it went the other way!" Another voice argued.

"You don't know what the 'ell you're talkin' about Rob!"

Grinning victorious, Canada took up the familiar stance he'd been taught as a boy by the native population and began to stalk the pair as they stalked the wolves of the forest. These men were going to get it. Fucking with Mother Nature was not okay. And it was doubly worse to do it on his land. After an hour or so of sure-footed steps and swift advancement, Canada spied the camo of the two hunters.

Suddenly, there was a cacophony of noise and the fire of a gun. One of the men whooped, "I think we got 'er Rob!"

"Hell yeah!" They roared and it was some thrashing as they ran ahead to bag what Canada bet was the poor pup's mother. Smirking deviously, the blond took the time to trace their footsteps and just as he was within a foot of the men; he noticed something.

The she-wolf, she wasn't dead. But the men, they had hunting knives and were flopping the gray canine on to her back; not caring enough about the pain she would be put through to put a killing bullet into her head. Oh these fuckers were going down...

Raising his barb-covered hockey stick, he grinned as he whispered; "Hey there."

Two heads turned. One look at him and they knew to start hollering like their lives depended on it (if they'd been closer to civilization it might have mattered, but out here? It was just him and them).

"Don't-"

"Please!"

The portly one tried to run after he took his first swing at his partner, but he was no match for Canada and his inhuman speed. Catching him without even breaking a sweat, he whammed the stick into the man's back. Drawing out a shrill shriek.

"Did those pups cry like you fucker!?" He shouted. "Huh?!"

Squirming even as the barbs embedded themselves further in his flesh, the illegal hunter tried to bargain with the blond. "Please! I'll give you anything you want! P-Please don't kill me!"

"Too late," Canada whispered, stomping down on the man's back side so he can tear out his stick. "You shoulda thought about that before you started killing my friends! And he brought it down hard on the portly fellow's head. The sound was satisfying along with his choked cry. Continuing this until it's nothing more than a pile of brain, skull and skin; the blond stepped away with a happy smile. "Taught you, didn't I motherfucker?"

There was no answer, but that was okay. He didn't expect one. Heading back to where the wolf and the other dead hunter was, he kicked away the body and leaned over the she-wolf. She was still breathing. Slinging his stick over his back, he pet her gray coat.

"How ya holding up?" He whispered.

She cracked an eye open and whimpered. "Shh..." he soothed. Picking her up with great care, "I'll get you all fixed up." Canada promised the canine. "Those fuckers won't ever hurt you or another beauty again..."

Walking back toward his cabin, he gratefully accepted the kiss from the she-wolf. "I must look a mess, huh?" He inquired of the hurt wolf. "I really did that one fucker in."

She licked his chin in answer and Canada laughed. "Yeah, you'll be just fine."

I remember reading somewhere that 2P!Canada would rather kill poachers over turning them in. Obviously, I had that scene play out here in particular. You'll have to let me know what you think of my characterization of 2P!Canada.

Thank you for reading everyone and please review!

P.S. If you could, check out the poll on my page if you have time. I'd like to have thirty votes on it before I decide to close it!