DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original BPRD character. I just own the plot and the OCs. I do not think I own Ruddy either. He has a kind of life on his own.
Another Ruddy-centric chapter, kind of drabble-ish in some parts.
A warning for my readers: there is another graphic scene of animals hunting in this chapter (some innocent goats and a lettuce). If you resent graphic violence on animals please feel free not to read this chapter.
There is no HB or BPRD here, but do not worry, they'll be back in next chapter.
As for the challenge: Hodoo managed to solve it partially, by guessing that Ruddy is a Saalawa.
That's almost exactly what he is, but not who he is.
Keep responding ladies and gentlemen: this second challenge is harder but I count on you.
Enjoy!
His wounded leg hurt and throbbed at every step he took, yet he could not stop.
He had to lead the hunters away from the pack.
It was just two days since he left them, and he already missed them more than he had anticipated.
After dealing with the rider, he limped through the night towards his frightened companions. They were not far away, hiding behind a hill.
His return, almost unscathed, had elicited a great deal of enthusiasm, expressed by tail-wagging and barking.
Ruddy had been forced to interrupt the congratulations and make them march.
He knew that the rider would not stay unconscious for long.
He could have killed the human without much more effort. All it would have taken was letting his control go, and the shock would have been enough to fry the idiot on the spot.
On a short term it could have been a solution, because he wouldn't have to care about being specifically followed now, but on a long term it was impratical.
Kill one of them and all his kind will hunt you down.
They marched for many miles that night, under the light of the moon, stopping only when dawn broke.
They hid in a small cave in the side of a hill, exhausted, and they slept together in a big puppy pile.
It was comforting.
At least he didn't have to worry much about his wound.
It hurt and forced him to limp, but at least his healing abilities would prevent infection.
He had endured worse wounds and worse pain in his existence.
It was one of the downsides of being a warrior.
That morning he woke up curled against Howl-in-the-Wind.
She was very kind to him, her admiration for him clearly magnified by the feat of previous night.
Few were the ones who survived the "thunder staff".
They marched on for two more days, sleeping during the day and traveling at night, until on the third morning he had another intuition.
They are coming after me.
He cursed inwardly. His intuitions had always been of this kind: 'someone is after you with bad intentions' or 'a danger is coming'.
He never had the revelations his relatives mentioned, like knowing exactly how to relieve humanity from misery or if his children would be girls or boys.
Maybe the latter had something to do with the fact that he could never ever have children.
Desert may bear flowers, once in a eon, but he could never sire a descendant.
Life was not fair, sometimes.
He left the pack the very same day, carefully instructing Longtail to keep marching for a few more days, just to stay away from danger.
Longtail was a good alpha, as far as he could judge,responsible and strong.
The pack would survive even in another territory.
Leaving Howl-in-the-Wind, however, was not so easy, as she insisted in coming with him to found a new pack in a faraway place.
She argued that he was wounded and could not travel alone, and nothing could persuade her that he would be just fine alone.
He didn't want to put her or the others in danger, as the intuition said that the humans were hunting just for him.
Howl-in-the-Wind put up a kind of a fight against him, just to demonstrate that he was weakened and in need of support.
It was a brave effort, but it did no good.
As much as he was not fond of beating any female, he forced her mercilessly into submission.
At least she surrendered and let him go alone, but not before she bid him tenderly farewell by rubbing her nose against his.
Ruddy turned away and didn't look back.
He marched in the opposite direction from the pack, feeling very alone.
Day or night he would travel at the fastest pace his bad leg allowed, in silence, hunting occasional rodents or lizards on the way.
He missed the tumble and play of the pups and the quieter company of the adults.
He missed them, curse the heavens!
Ruddy knew for certain that just running away was not enough to keep other random canids from harm's way.
He had to make sure he was clearly sighted again and followed specifically before disappearing.
Also, he had to eat something more substantial than desert rats.
Marching much and not sleeping enough had wearied him down, he was quite sure that his ribs were starting to show.
His plans meant that he had to approach a farm or another human settlement.
Later that night, from his vantage point on a nearby hill, Ruddy saw a rather large wooden house with a porch and gracious Ionic columns.
It was quite strange, he thought.
This was the last place where one could reasonably think of finding a Greek or Roman settlement.
The place was too wild, the language and the clothes people used were wrong, at least judging from what he had experienced so far.
Maybe it was some Romanized barbarian settlement, he mused.
Yes, that sounded quite more reasonable, but there was only one way to ascertain it, that is investigating more closely.
Another reason to approach the house.
The windows were lit and the people in the house must be very wealthy, judging from the amount of candles they used for illumination.
Strangely, though, he didn't smell smoke.
Puzzled, he frowned and stopped, sniffing suspiciously the air.
Next to the main building there were some smaller constructions, from which came the strong smell of poultry and goats, a hen-house and a stable, he deduced.
Right in front of the buildings there was a small cultivated plot of land.
His mouth watered when he noticed a row of lettuce plants between the other vegetables.
Ruddy re-considered his plans in view of this last discovery, and made a quick detour towards the vegetables.
He sniffed suspiciously a big lettuce plant, then, satisfied by the inspection, he took an enthusiastic morsel of the sweet vegetable.
It had been a long time since his last salad, and he missed it.
He munched at it for a while, wagging his forked tail in enjoyment, before heading towards the constructions.
There he stopped, thinking: hens or goats?
An irruption in the hen-house would grant him a quick and easy meal, which was not bad since he was still hungry, but it was not a noteworthy feat for a terrible beast.
Feeling he needed something showier, he headed for the stable.
The door was locked but there was a window at a suitable height.
He crouched, gathering strenght for the leap, and jumped through the opening, his wounded leg not giving him so much trouble.
Ruddy landed lightly in the midst of a very scared bunch of goats, which immediately started to bleat loudly.
That was right: he needed all the confusion he could muster.
Carefully selecting his prey, he pounced the very old male with oddly retorted horns and tore away its throat.
He quickly licked as much blood as he could, before howling like mad and going for the cluster of females huddling in the corner.
He barked and snarled, eliciting more terrified bleats from the poor goats, and finally jumped.
The cows tried to stomp and kick him, but they had little space and he still was too quick and vicious.
He managed to kill them all and drink their blood before the door opened with a loud bang and a big, angry-looking human with blond hair entered the stable, carrying one of those "thunder-staffs".
Behind him was a woman in a long gown, equally blond but much less angry and much more scared.
He put up a very good show for the couple: he growled fiercely, his fur so bloody that it looked almost scarlet and the hair on his back raised in a very intimidating ridge.
The man raised his weapon level with his eyes and pointed at him, but he had learned the lesson and lost no time in shocking him a little.
The man's eyes rolled in their sockets and he fell down heavily.
The woman spared him the effort of producing another spark by fainting on her own.
Very good, he thought: the two would make very good witnesses, spurred by the loss of all their goats.
He inspected them more closely: they didn't look Romans or Greeks, more like Germans or Gauls, which confirmed his opinion.
The settlement must be some kind of colony.
The smell of blood was very appealing and he thought it was a waste letting all that delicious meat rot uneaten.
Ruddy ate quickly as much as he could before leaving the farm, satisfied with his handwork.
Five goats killed and mutilated and two knocked out humans (plus a devoured lettuce plant no one would ever consider): that was a feat worth of notice and of his reputation.
That was what would bring the hunters in hot pursuit on his tracks.
The pack was safe now.
Somehow this made him sleep better that morning.
Any ideas on who Ruddy is?
Come on, I think it is pretty clear.
The lettuce is a big clue.
Please review and guess!
