Dawn has fully arrived, and gentle sunbeams grace the forest with their presence for one more day. Its soothing warm touch enveloping Yahto and his blacked-out friends. Yahto bends down and stares into the glazed over eyes of the smoldering alpha, checking if it still had some spunk left to spend. He blinks once, and frantically waves his hands in front of the beast's face. The body remained motionless, and Yahto decided to take it a step further. He began to make silly faces a foot away from the once terrifying monstrosity. His face contorts and his tongue zips back and forth like a fussy toddler. After finishing his circus clown act, Yahto deemed the Beowolf unconscious. He looks around to see the remaining bodies of wolves scattered about as a child's neglected toys. Nodding to some unknown criteria, hed went to search for the bow he had through off into brush. Walking over to the area where he whipped his weapon, Yahto talked aloud to himself.
"That wolf was no pushover. If I tried anything with Wakinyan's Feather, it would have just pissed it off and I would be two attachments short of a body."
Yahto looks down to his hands and allows his semblance to flow through his arms. A faint sparking came from his fingertips. These sparks became haunting lights in his mind as his vision went black. Yahto abruptly stumbled, and his eyes fluttered, rolling into his head. Before losing all of his orientation, he recovers and takes a deep breath, standing still for a moment. Sensing his body feeling distant, he plops to the ground on his butt.
"Seems I may be running a bit low…"
The soil was cool and a little damp, but Yahto didn't mind. Putting his hands behind his head, he reclines back and stretches out to look up into the sky. It was a brilliant light blue; the sun finally mustering the courage to beat back the darkness and show the world its colorful splendor. The sky's reach seemed endless as a vast as mysterious ocean. The only island that remained in this infinity pool was the moon. It was in full last night, as none of its fragments were visible. The moon's white dusty glow remained fastened to the sky like a lighthouse beacon on a foggy night, heralding passage to the long lost souls in need of guidance adrift in the endless ocean. Yahto forcefully shook his head, pushing back the haze and began to rub his hands together. He let his heart rate return to a normal pace, pushing himself off the ground, and returned to his feet. Yahto meandered his way past the sprawled out bodies of the Grimm and Iron Tree towards the tree line not far from his lofty home. Undergrowth blocked his entryway towards the thicker part of the forest. The brush wasn't very high, just barely above Yahto's head, but what it lacked in height it made up for in density. Yahto minded his footing to not trip over a stray root, then pushed an obstructing branch out of his path.
"Ye-OW!" he yelps.
His hand springs back from a sharp prick, causing the branch to recoil back in his face. Having a face full of spiny leaves scratching his face and the branches of nearby shrubs closing in on him, Yahto panics and barrels through the rest of the foliage sacrificing finesse for speed. Upon exiting, the throbbing sting in his finger became all too apparent. Inspecting his minor wound, he found a sizeable thorn embedded into his thumb. Yahto swiftly jerks the thorn out of his flesh and throws it back into the enclosed vegetation from whence it came. His thumb began to ooze blood, aura swelling around it, but to no effect.
"Good for nothing…." Yahto irritably remarked.
His objective changed, and he returned to the brush-line that he emerged from. Meticulously searching each individual plant growth for something; stopping to shake the blood from his thumb periodically. His gaze lands upon a bush that had long flowing leaves drooping from its trunk. The leaves had a distinct yellowish tint to them with black tips, and they had a sticky substance covering the outside foliage.
"Bingo."
Yahto swips two leaves from the shrubs's bark and outstretches his wounded hand. Momentarily holding one of the leaves in between his teeth, which left a honey like texture upon them, he rolled the other leaf into a cigar shape and pointed the tip down towards his bleeding thumb as a syringe. He dips the black tipped leaf into his wound, giving a painful initial sting that made him grit his teeth, but soon the pain began to disappear and Yahto sighed in relief. He takes the remaining leaf from his mouth and bandages his thumb with it, weaving the leaf in on itself securely fastening it over the damaged digit. Licking the texture off his teeth with a vigor that would impress a dog with peanut butter in its mouth, Yahto tests his range of motion of his thumb. He gives a wrapped thumbs-up to shrubbery.
"Quid Pro Quo, right?"
Scoffing, he turns his back and resumes his search for Wakinyan's Feather. Treading on soft dirt, his footsteps were as quiet as a fox's due to the cushion of his moccasins.
It has to be around here somewhere…
Yahto notices a faint blue glow coming from behind a burly tree six meters away, and chucks of bark lying next to an adjacent tree. A scar brandishes the trunk, and Yahto could only presume that his weapon ricocheted off and landed elsewhere. Strutting over, the faint glow intensified and its light bounces off the embroiled foliage like a playful nymph.
"Found you, my precious!" Yahto rasps.
Grasping the bow and giving the grip a twist towards his body, the bow shrinks itself into its handy rectangular shape. Yahto flips it about, toying with it for a moment, and locks it back into place.
"Phase one, finished. Proceeding to phase two."
He backtracks his strut in the direction of Iron Tree, carefully avoiding any unnecessary cuts or stabs this time around. Upon reaching the familiar wheat around his home, Yahto begins to hum a tune and gyrates his body reminiscent as an old swing dancer. He moves along the field in this rhythmic matter until he freezes on the spot, hand pointed in the air and his left leg bent at the knee like a flamingo. His face scrunches up and nostrils flare. Yahto quickly pinches his nose shut and spat in the ground.
"What is the matter with this smell!?" He choked out.
The odor seemed to be originating from Iron Tree, and walking towards it, the smell only seemed to confirm his theory as it crusaded into his pinched off nose.
"I didn't know trees of your caliber were so uncouth!" Yahto grimaces.
He was about to inspect the bark when a whimper overtook the ambient chirpings of the forest. Moving around the base of the tree, he found his charcoaled wolf from earlier and the fleshy cushion it landed upon. It seems the crushed beowolf was still kicking, well, metaphorically. Its legs were in fact pounded into dust and its blood expanding around the other wolf and around the roots of Iron Tree. However, the wolf was still alive. Once seeing Yahto, it flattened its ears, and sounded off a hush growl. Yahto's face straightens and crosses his arms.
"You've seen better days, haven't you, monster?"
A labored snort was its response.
Yahto's neck craned to survey the injuries. A grunt was his diagnosis.
"Nothing I can do for you I'm afraid."
He grabbed his weapon and unfurled Wakinyan's Feather back to its bow form. Yahto revs the grip once more and the bow separates into two pieces. The sparkplugs on the end rotate around and face away from Yahto. Jagged blades emerge from the limbs of the divided bow, and talon-like spikes sping out opposite of the blades. Wakinyan's Feather was now in its final form, a set of electrified tomahawks. Yahto hovers over the weakened wolf.
"Take these and call me in the morning."
Yahto raises his arm and lops off its head with a serrating buzz from his weapon. The head plopped to the ground and Yahto reconnects the two weapon pieces and locks it away. The Grimm instantly began to dissipate; its neck and nape were the first to go. Pieces of flesh and blood scatter off into the wind breaking down into nothingness, like a storm when he crouches to watch this vanishing act. His hand caresses the fur that give way to air and he mumbles to himself.
"No matter how many times I see this, I just don't quite understand. How does something go to nothing in the blink of an eye? Where does the flesh go? Does it return? Perhaps more importantly, why? Do the Grimm have any freedom in this, or does some larger, unseen force control them? It's been years and I still have more questions than answers…."
Yahto stands back up and gazes at the moon, whose soft light still lingered in the sky.
"Don't suppose you have any answers for me, do you?"
There was a long pause of silence, and Yahto continued,
"Thought so. Well, I guess the only thing left to do is to take these boys to Capture Corp."
With any luck, they didn't wreck the vehicle. Yahto thought.
He walks over to an opening in the forest and inspects a huge camouflaged tarp draped over something. Seeing little damage, Yahto yanks the tarp off to reveal a large motorized vehicle. Its features were a cross between a pick-up and a dump truck. The cabin of the vehicle is rectangular and quite solid, appearing to have taken a couple hits in the past with dents riddling the frame. Its wheels were incredibly large; nearly half the size of Yahto and the height of the entire truck was double of his own. The flatbed is massive; able to comfortably fit three large ursa into. The sides of the flatbed curve inward, cradling any cargo it would need to carry.
Yahto digs out the keys to the truck at the base of a tree behind the vehicle. A rope ladder hangs on the side of the tree; Its wood looks tired, grimy, and had hints of moss growing on each ascending step. He plucks the keys from their hidden sanctuary buried in the soft dirt, wiping off the earthy remnants that clung to the grooves. He holds onto one key in particular, a small sturdy silver key with deep trenches. Fumbling around with it, Yahto's eyes rise to follow the ladder's heavenward path one more time, and reaching its limit when the upper step crosses through an opening on a wooden platform. This platform had a sturdy plank that lead its way into the canopy of Iron Tree. This pathway is the bridge to Yahto's Tree House, connecting the platform to an open balcony. The balcony hugs the entire right side of the home, sprawling out like an unraveling mat the further you traveled upon it. The verandah climbed higher as one walks it, peeking just higher than the branches that the lower levels slithered through. At its widest, a nice duo of lawn chairs remain dusty and unattended. A ghostly air surrounded them as they stared out into the wilderness the two tower above. A flimsy railing was the only thing that protected its users from falling down through the limbs of Iron Tree below. Yahto's gaze linger on the gaping opening on the side of the treehouse. The cross-sectioned windowpane is the only thing that allows light into the cozy elfin house, and it was the only normal way into the home. A thick lock buckles the window to the wall, the only thing from keeping it swinging wide open.
Yahto breathes in an echo adrift on the wind and smiles. He turns and twirls the keys on his way towards entering the truck. Hopping on the rugbar, he pulls himself up into the tacky-clothed seat and turns the ignition. The engine coughs and sputters to life, ending with the ka-chow! of a large puff of exhaust shooting out the muffler.
"Sometimes this junker scares me more than the Grimm…" Yahto remarks.
He drives over into the middle of the field, leaving a faint trail on the wheat in his wake. Jumping out of the truck, Yahto meanders his way towards the closest wolf and grabs the feet of the creature. Dragging it to the back end of the truck, he plops the wolf on the ground and stood in front of a barebones control panel. The panel has two buttons, one red and one green, and a lever that Yahto promptly pulls. The back end extends a metal sheet, and lowers itself to the ground creating a small inclined ramp to walk up. Yahto pushes the green button and a whir comes from the ramp; its surface slowly churning up and roll upwards towards the flatbed.
Grasping the legs of the beowolf, Yahto heaves it onto the conveyer belt, tossing the Grimm about like a ragdoll on an escalator. He does the same for each beowolf, dropping them on the belt to place them in the back end of his truck. Yahto heavily pants as he graces his presence with the alpha. Hanging his head, Yahto seethed out a frustrated grunt.
"There….has got to be… a better way…..to do this…"
Rubbing his aching back for a moment, he proceeds to tug at the wolf's arm. He huffed and puffed, but the body didn't budge. Frustration sets up shop in Yahto's brain, and he began tugging at all the limbs he could to get this hunk of valuable meat into his vehicle. Giving up upon reaching the tail and feverishly pulling at it, Yahto collapses to the ground. His chest moves as a piston while gasping for breath.
"Now what!?"
He glances over to the flatbed full of the alpha's comrades piled into mounds and back to the alpha. Yahto's eyes studies the conveyor belt at the end of the truck a couple meters away.
"Hmmmm…I wonder…" He sighs out.
Yahto quickly raises the trucks end and folds up the belt. He returns into the cab and backs up right next to the wolf. Repeating the process, the belt sprawls out onto the ground and roils up again. He grabs the Grimm's bushy tail and moves over to the belt. Hovering the tail over the belt, Yahto sends a large surge of electricity through both the metal and the beast. The tail slams into the belt and clings to the moving metal, pulling the Grimm onto it, feeding the alpha into the back end. The charge between the two was lost quickly, but lasting long enough for Yahto to give one final push to get it full body rolling along.
"Alright!" Yahto yelled out.
Having secured all of his bounty onto the ol' cluncker, Yahto hops back into the driver's seat, turns on a CD player, and blazes off into the forest.