(no subject)
Who: Wolverine, and anyone brave/stupid enough to brave the glass rain
What: Hunting
Where: The garden
When: Night January 25th
Rating: PG-13 (mild language, violence)
Open: yes
Wolverine moved silently through the over grown foliage, he was naked except for his dog-tags. He occasionally stopped and sniffed to ensure he was still on track. He stopped at the edge of this particular row. He could now see what his nose had told him would be there.
A raccoon crouched under a ruined trellis in front of an equally ruined fountain. It licked at the bloody stump of its right forelimb, most likely caused by the recent weather. He gauged the distance, he knew he could jump it but there was open air between his hiding place and the raccoon's. Going into the open meant being exposed to the cutting rain. He didn't like the idea, but he hadn't eaten in three days either. He had coiled himself for the spring, when the raccoon turned it's head in his direction, he saw it mask and paused. His hand went to his face as if expecting to find himself wearing a mask.
He shook his head to clear away such thoughts, thoughts? He shook himself again successfully refocusing on his prey. He flew from the bushes, The falling glass cutting his face, arms, shoulders and back. The raccoon would hear nothing save the snikt as he unsheathed his claws.
The raccoon had no time to react as Wolverine's left hand pinned it's head to the ground and his right plunged his claws through it flank. The raccoon heaved one great and pained sigh then lay still. Wolverine was still for a moment as the last of the cuts were closed and the embedded glass was forced out of his skin.
He looked uneasily all around him sniffing as well, only when he was sure he was alone did he begin to eat.
What: Hunting
Where: The garden
When: Night January 25th
Rating: PG-13 (mild language, violence)
Open: yes
Wolverine moved silently through the over grown foliage, he was naked except for his dog-tags. He occasionally stopped and sniffed to ensure he was still on track. He stopped at the edge of this particular row. He could now see what his nose had told him would be there.
A raccoon crouched under a ruined trellis in front of an equally ruined fountain. It licked at the bloody stump of its right forelimb, most likely caused by the recent weather. He gauged the distance, he knew he could jump it but there was open air between his hiding place and the raccoon's. Going into the open meant being exposed to the cutting rain. He didn't like the idea, but he hadn't eaten in three days either. He had coiled himself for the spring, when the raccoon turned it's head in his direction, he saw it mask and paused. His hand went to his face as if expecting to find himself wearing a mask.
He shook his head to clear away such thoughts, thoughts? He shook himself again successfully refocusing on his prey. He flew from the bushes, The falling glass cutting his face, arms, shoulders and back. The raccoon would hear nothing save the snikt as he unsheathed his claws.
The raccoon had no time to react as Wolverine's left hand pinned it's head to the ground and his right plunged his claws through it flank. The raccoon heaved one great and pained sigh then lay still. Wolverine was still for a moment as the last of the cuts were closed and the embedded glass was forced out of his skin.
He looked uneasily all around him sniffing as well, only when he was sure he was alone did he begin to eat.