He found that his strength got a little bit stronger after he began walking again, letting the ground go by without much thought and concentrating on his navigation, alarmingly calm for someone in his own predicament. Clive was retracing his steps briskly from where he had trodden last night, the trail quite easy to follow as long as he let his gut instinct lead the way. The Schrodinger camp was not too far away from his intended direction anyway, so it would be absolutely no bother for him to drop by and visit them, to find out whether or not he had actually done anything to them, or their leader.
Despite his muscles being stiff and sore, the entry into a flatter part of the canyon silenced their incessant protests, for having to neither descend or ascend made them work properly without complaint. The mountains were growing more distinct in the horizon and he could see their peaked tips, yet their solid foundations were lost in a sea of transparent heat waves, mixing the earth with the lower sky. Clive's direction was a little off-course to those mountains, even if it was his ultimate destination. Just a little bit further and he would be back at the campsite, if his murky memory served him correctly.
Memory. That was what the focus of his mind was upon, the seemingly unrelated flashes of memory the influence of Boomerang was transmitting to his own spirit, in the form of restless dreams. What was their meaning, what did they have to do with him? It made no sense to Clive in his weakened state, he just couldn't think too deeply with all that inhabited his mind. It was a lingering trait from his lycan form, his mind slowly growing unused to thinking as a human any more. Though only the barest traces showed up in his consciousness, Clive was losing the comprehension of his more human self.
The drifter was carefully counting his paces as he gradually made progress in his march, so he paused in a perplexed manner when his foot crushed something furry underneath the soles of his boots, definitely not his tail this time, for he experienced no pain at all from the motion. The pressure dribbled a little bit of blood out of the object, and he heard the audible crunch of broken bone. Stepping back a bit, Clive recognized the body of a thoroughly mauled wild rabbit, most of it's meat torn off in strips while it's stomach had been chewed away. He blanched, now aware of why he wasn't particularly hungry without having eaten breakfast. He had already done so while the moon was still full.
"Oh my.." He said quietly as he took another step back, not very horrified but feeling more than his share of guilt. Scanning the area, Clive could see more than one corpse scattered across the ground, all mangled and partially eaten. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced, still a little relieved that his bestial malice had not been directed towards any innocent humans. "A brace of conies? That is better than humans, I suppose…" He picked up the torn rabbit and held it by it's long ears, inspecting it's fatal injuries. If he had learnt anything from this trip into hell, it was to identify his own bite marks if he ever saw them. They were definitely of a canine or lupine origin, but deeper and more pronounced. Yes, they were his.
Clive dropped the carcass and kept on moving, now following the trail of dead bodies as well as the one left by scent. Death and mutilation were just… no longer frightening to him anymore. In truth, he was a little impressed by the neatness of the kill, the rabbit had been given a swift and painless death by a broken neck before they had been bitten into, it was almost as if the human and the wolf inside him were fighting rabidly for dominance. And, he knew this without a shadow of a doubt, his hands curling into fists as he continued one, Clive was well aware that the wolf part of him was steadily gaining ground and changing him into it's own image. Hell, he was a great deal wolf already, even in full sunlight.
And when Catherine sees what you have become, she will call you a monster and send you away. She will hate you, and Kaitlyn will fear you…
He ignored the annoying voice of his inner doppelganger and felt something heavy in the pocket of his coat, knocking against his leg whenever he took a step. Clive kicked aside another dead rabbit and reached into the pocket hesitantly, expecting almost anything to be residing within. He smiled ironically as he yanked the offending intruder out, an exceptionally plump rabbit he must have been saving for a later date. He threw it away with mild revulsion and wiped his hands on his coat, not wanting to catch some kind of infectious rabbit disease.
Then, like a breath of fresh air into his consciousness, Clive heard a cadre of voices, this time outside his own head. He tensed and then ducked for cover behind a sharp tombstone-like rock, huge and covering. The sound of humans nearby had startled him so much that he had temporarily forgotten that he was searching for them in the first place, his first impulse to hide himself right away. Thinking for a moment, Clive realised his folly and then sighed, nervously adjusting his glasses. To see if his memory was failing or not, he would have to go into the campsite without armament or indecision. He hated the idea, but he had no other choice.
Employing all the stealth skills required for a drifter of the sniper persuasion, Clive crept around the giant rock and made for cover behind a cluster of smaller ones, growing ever closer to the source of the noise. Peeking over the edge of the jagged stone, he saw the clearing of a small campsite, the inhabitants within enjoying a late breakfast. There was a girl, two guys and a cat, all arguing in some small way with each other. To an outsider though, it seemed more like the girl was loudly proclaiming her plans while the others attempted to convince her of a more sensible course of action. From the small snippets of information Clive could glean, it seemed that they were headed for a trip to the nearly endless abyss.
He counted the members of the team. Todd and Alfred, accounted for with Shady close by, and at last Maya Schrodinger, alive and looking well. A huge weight dropped away from his mind and he exhaled in relief, glad. But, he still had memories of visiting them the night before and had to verify some facts, to set his mind at total ease. Clive stepped back and dusted himself off, habitually adjusting his glasses. He felt and probably looked like shit in his current condition, something he really couldn't help right now, but the Schrodingers were a prestigious team and he also had to hide a few things before stepping into their camp.
Clive took his coat off for a few moments and shook out all the dust and other foreign elements rattled off the fabric, surprised at the amount of dirt that managed to come off. He coughed on the air for a second, freezing afterwards when he feared that he had been too loud and he would be caught. The anxiety was unjustified when nobody jumped him, the drifter taking the chance to breathe again and slip the old coat back on. Utilizing an idea he had only recently devised, Clive knelt down and buckled up the sand guard at the bottom of his coat, keeping his legs and what else was there hidden. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, whenever Clive chose to walk a small part of his tail stuck out from under the rim of the coat and he couldn't conceal that very well, resorting to wrapping it around one leg and ignoring how awkward it felt. There, that seemed about right, and Clive guessed he was ready.
Maya looked up as she heard the crunch of rocks warning her of an intruder into their little area, her calculating and sharp eyes darting up as Clive entered. They narrowed, and like a silent trigger for the others, Todd, Alfred and Shady were suddenly at the hidden defensive. The sniper slowly held up both hands as he grew closer to them, as a sign to prove that he was unarmed and unwilling to fight. Maya just shrugged, and Clive dropped them, now within speaking range. The blonde woman folded up the small carpet of maps she was looking at and snorted, inhospitable. "Whaddaya want?" She sneered, appearing to be more interested in her maps than Clive's entrance.
He found himself at a loss on what to say. He couldn't really tell the truth, and it was none of their business anyway, but he had to get the right sort of information out of her, a hard task considering who she was. There was only one thing for it. Clive would have to lie, blatantly, or at least warp the truth a little. He collected his wits and spoke formally, like he did when explaining details to a exceptionally valuable client. "I.. I am tracking a certain monster throughout this canyon, one that is most dangerous and violent." Yes, this seemed to be a pretty good tale, "I lost the scen- err, trail last night and I was wondering if you have seen it, or encountered it at all during your stay here. Is this so?"
"What does the bastard look like?" She replied curtly, looking the man up and down. He looked like death warmed over, whatever he must have been tracking certainly was taking it's toll on him, that was for sure. Maya had never seen a man look so exhausted, and at the same time so quietly resolute, he almost looked like he was going to fall over at any given time, but somehow she knew that it would not be so. One hand moving to massage her bruised wrist from last night, all she did outwardly was continue to frown.
"It is lupine yet bears a human quality, standing slightly taller than I am." He said dully and without vigour. "It may have been agitated, and it may have been dangerous. Have you encountered it?" Clive watched all the faces turn to Maya's, and the woman thought deeply for a moment, then nodded. The metal demon felt a freezing cold fear immediately clutch at his heart, like a frosted iron vice. He felt the fur underneath his clothing rise at the unpleasant sensation, but he pressed on, hardly any apprehension marring his decent poker face. "I see. Were any of you harmed? I am deeply sorry for it's malice if you were, I should have destroyed the menace when I last had the chance." He was not lying, there.
In opposition to her fine and delicate features, Maya's words were at best crude and incredibly direct. "Ah, the Maxwell Team's big bad bounty hunter." She acknowledged firstly before moving onto business. "I saw your monster. It did this to me." And she pulled up both her sleeves before tugging down the neckline of her dress for about an inch, showing rings of painful blue bruising around her wrists and most importantly her neck, hinting at a few minor breathing difficulties. Every time she inhaled, it must have really stung. Clive went a little white and looked away, closing his eyes. Maya found a sadistic pleasure in this, moving on. "The little fucker thought it might be fun to try an' take advantage of me, it got yours truly last night an' nearly had it's way," She smirked arrogantly and tapped her left temple, nodding slightly, "But I was smarter than it was. I gave it a good clobbering and it took off, most likely won't bother me again."
"What about us, Sis?" Alfred muttered underneath his breath, "We helped out too…"
But Clive had stopped listening as soon as Maya had confirmed his deep seated fear, that he had almost, just almost, taken advantage of a young girl who was probably no older than Virginia, it made him feel physically ill inside. What would have happened if he had not been stopped, what would he have done? This was, in Clive's mind, damn near close to Hell. Meekly, and limping slightly from having to hide his tail, Clive shuffled over to a small rock and sat down heavily, resting his elbows on his knees and bowing his head. Annoyingly, he adjusted his glasses again and sighed. "I am so very sorry for any discomfort it-, … he may have caused you. This is entirely my own fault. I apologize."
Maya raised an eyebrow at Clive's strange apology, wondering what the hell he was saying sorry for. He may have been hunting the monster, but that didn't mean he should take responsibility for it was well. Those weird Eastern Highlanders, they always were a little too eccentric for her tastes. Shrugging, the girl threw a piece of food at Clive, the sniper catching the wrapped piece of dried meat entirely on reflex. He stared at it for a short while, then glanced back up at her, uncertain. "You eaten recently?" She asked gruffly, stashing away her navigational maps in her inventory.
Clive thought back to what he would have only recently considered a meal, a scattering of dead rabbits and shrugged, shaking his head only moments later. He set the food aside and sidled away from it, as if he was anxious of accepting anything of value from her. He almost looked guilty over something. The drifter spoke quietly, like somebody had turned his volume all the way down. "I should leave now. Thank you for your time, but my own is of the essence. Good day to you, and I hope your ventures are prosperous." He stood up, and tried to move away.
The leader of the Schrodinger team was now in front of him and she grabbed his shoulder, pushing him back down onto his seat. Clive had to stop himself from openly snarling at her, catching and suppressing the impulse just in time. He gave up resisting and looked back at the other humans around him, aware of exactly how out-of-place he was. Maya let go and moved back to her seat, now absently chewing on a piece of rationed food. "Lemme just say I don't like it very much," She informed him bluntly, "About lettin' you stay here for a little while. But you know, if I did let you go when it looks like a bunch of golems have been playin' tennis with your body, I bet your bratty leader won't never let me hear the end of it, right?"
He couldn't help but smile. "I suppose you may be right, Maya." Clive replied as he took a bite out of the food he had been given, the curse of the lycanthrope meaning that he could only stomach raw or prepared meat. He was very fortunate that the Schrodinger's food stores had been low, and they only had beef jerky left. At least he was with people again, even if they were not his people…
Your people died out nearly a thousand years ago, and you have killed all those who managed to survive to the present day. Executioner, a name befitting of one who hunts and destroys his own brothers, sisters and ancestors…
He was brought out of a momentary lapse of conscious thought by the cat-like creature Shady sniffing at his trench coat, orangey yellow fur standing on end. Perturbed, Clive nudged the creature away with a boot and immediately developed a dislike to the animal, even though he had previously been rather unbiased to him before today. It must have been because Shady was a.. a.. He couldn't even say it in his mind, the world was revoltingly distasteful. Shady was a cat. He managed to get the word out like the utterance of a curse, just barely. Cat.
"You… you smell funny.." He pointed out to the metal demon with puzzlement, skirting around his leg as Clive tried to kick him away again. "You smell like… rabbits and horses and cherries, with whiskey. And…" He paused for a long time to figure out another part of his little puzzle, jumping back after a moment and raising his hackles, hissing like wild. Small traces of smoke trailed up from his gleaming incisors as the cat bared them, upset. "…Dog! No, worse! Keep away from me!" The cat backed away with tension inherent in all his limbs, yowling out a word that didn't sound like English at all, but the drifter immediately understood. "Wolf!"
"Shady!" Alfred exclaimed in what he hoped was a scolding tone, the effect lessened from such a timid little speaker. The cat-like creature heard it's name being called and took this as a chance for escape, running into Alfred's lap and glaring at Clive with mistrust. The demon stared at the rock at his feet, the food he was eating rapidly forgotten. It was relieving for him to know that the extent of his assault had been nothing more than bruises, but it still didn't make it seem any easier for him to remain here, not when time was so precious. As soon as possible, Clive would leave again.
"Wolf…" He repeated vacantly to himself as any conversations or arguments flew straight over his head, no longer the centre of attention. The word sounded right, like it fitted into place with his identity and rendered everything else useless. Not Clive, not human, not the leader of the Black Shucks, just… wolf. He was becoming too tired to fight it anymore, he just had to give in.
"Wolf." He said.
Ravendor called out to the others behind him as some kind of moral support, or maybe he was imitating an army drill sergeant, forcing the bandits to both march, keep up his pace and answer questions all at the same time, in the incredible Filgaian heat. It took a Herculean effort to do just two, while three was murdering a whole lot of brain cells. The bandits were coated in sweat and heaving from the strain, while Ravendor was barely even winded. Some bastards always got all the luck. "¿¡Que le gustá más!?"
"¡Me gusta más la cerveza!" Antonio intoned, licking his lips. Dario thumped him on the back, agreeing with him. A few of them, in the intense heat, would really be a very nice idea right now. The foreign bandit always knew what he wanted, it was heartening. Yeah, a beer would really hit the spot right about now..
"¡Me gustan más las rubias!" Romero hollered, thumping himself on the chest and grinning, the other two bandits rolling their eyes in exasperation. How many times did he have to mention that in a day? Well, as long as he was proud of it, that was probably all that counted.
"¡Me gusta más leer!" Dario finished off loudly, receiving weird looks from the other two. Kaitlyn, not having to walk and sitting happily on the bearded bandit's shoulders, didn't understand what the words meant but still found them funny-sounding anyway, giggling cheerfully and tipping Dario's hat forward over her eyes. The ground looked high up from where she was, the little girl thought she would rarely tire of this.
Their leader smiled, but did not look back. "My, what different views you all have on the good life. In fact, it surprises me, for I once had a particular taste for all three, though, I assure you, not all at once." He chuckled, but seemed to be the only one who found this funny. The others looked clueless, and Kaitlyn wasn't really listening. "Not far now, not far now.." He added as a quiet afterthought, his smile going just the faintest bit sinister. He took out his picket of cigarettes and pulled one out, but then the drifter paused in the middle of lighting it, looking at his bad habit and medication all at the same time.
I do not need these anymore, do I? Of course not, it was already far too difficult to stop it, No, not anymore. This will be the last time. I shall hide it no longer…
There weren't many cigarettes left in the packet in the first place, so when Ravendor casually dropped them onto the dirty ground and purposefully stepped on the flimsy cardboard, the cigarettes inside were crushed beyond repair. He did not miss them, it was a filthy habit at any rate. Besides, from what he already knew, the medicine inside would soon be useless to him, anyway.
Pain shot down the muscles in his back for a few seconds, the drifter leader pausing and closing his eyes like he was savouring a moment, totally impervious to the hurt now. He smiled. "I hope I live… to see your face, to see it know what I know, and watch you die."
From that point on, Ravendor no longer looked back.
The last ties to his sanity were being unwound.
Another glossy black feather dropped into the dirt, lost from it's owner, but now bearing the slight glint of a razor-sharp edge.