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[ukan]

This is Lark Tennant, leave a message.

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[ukan]

"One without any self-respect. I look ridiculous when I don't get all the clothes off first." It's hard to say if he's joking or if, in fact, he has changed forms and been stuck with his pants on.

[atowncalledtreffy]

"Ah." Giving an acknowledging look, Trevor makes a little twirl with his fingers.

"Want me to turn around, give you privacy?"

[ukan]

"No I'll find a bush. Scout ahead a bit, would you? I'll catch up."

And he will, with his clothes neatly folded and in his mouth when he trots up, tail wagging.

[atowncalledtreffy]

Trevor does as asked, headed through the woods that feel familiar and alien together. He can never forget he's not actually home. He's still on the ship, still a prisoner despite his surroundings.

He crouches down to examine animal tracks, only to glance up when Lark trots up. Despite himself, Trevor finds himself smiling. He always loved dogs.

He opens the backpack and holds his hand out for Lark's clothing.

"Look at this handsome specter. Ready to hunt?"

[ukan]

He hands over the clothes and offers a bark of agreement, prancing on his front paws. He sniffs around the tracks, leads Trevor through the brush when the tracks reach hard ground.

[atowncalledtreffy]

Trevor zips up the bag and stands, following Lark into the brush. He goes quiet, soft-and-sure-footed as if he had velvet pads on his own feet. He doesn't exactly have weapons but that hardly stops him; he has hands and feet and Lark.

With Lark in the lead, Trevor hops up onto the rocky terrain as easily as any mountain goat.

[ukan]

He doesn't get to hunt very often, and when he does, it's always in the context of training his new pups some restraint. There's something primally satisfying about creeping through the woods with someone who moves as if he, too, was born for this.

He pauses, lifts his head to scent the wind, and makes a small sound so Trevor knows to follow him carefully to the small pond. There's a pig on the other side chewing berries off a bush.

[atowncalledtreffy]

At Lark's noise, Trevor settles himself upwind, lying on his stomach to lessen the chance of being seen by their prey. He eyes the pig, where it is and the age and size of it, before smiling a little. This all feels familiar but not as sad as most familiar things do.

Keeping his voice low and movements scarce, he points towards the path around the pond.

"Do you want to drive him? Or hold him? One noise for drive, two for hold." The Belmonts sometimes hunted wildlife with dogs; he's not sure which Lark would prefer.

[ukan]

He keeps his voice low, but there are two distinct woofs. He's usually the wolf who waits ahead while the pack drives the prey right into his jaws, and he's curious to see how Trevor works.

[atowncalledtreffy]

All right: that leaves Trevor for the driving portion. He nods, and starts to move closer to the boar on the opposite side of the lake. There's a cliff face where he can hem the pig in, straight to Lark on the other side.

He has no ranged weapons but he can make a lot of noise and on his way over, Trevor picks up two river rocks, heavy and rounded from the water.

One he uses to startle the creature, drive it forward as he steps out of the underbrush in a noise that might be a thunderclap for how loud it is in the stillness.

[ukan]

The pig bolts, pauses, bolts again and tears through the mud. Lark leaps out of the brush when it's eight or ten feet away and gets his teeth in its shoulder so he can haul it away from the water. He hates trying to hunt in the water, and this way it's easier for Trevor to jump in.

[atowncalledtreffy]

Keeping in mind Lark’s aversion to water as well as the struggle to get a beast out of it, Trevor moves with Lark to position himself in between the pig and the water. He waits for a moment when Lark is clear and takes his second shot with his second rock to stun the boar.

[ukan]

Lark dives back in the second the rock hits, grabbing it by the throat now and pushing forward to roll it onto its side. Blood dribbles into his mouth, then bursts in as his teeth find the carotid.

[atowncalledtreffy]

Trevor works his way around the downed pig to where he won’t get caught in its death throes. With his borrowed knife he falls on the pig to pin it with his body and slips it in the ribs where the heart should be. Always kill as quick as you can, not only because it’s safer but because it’s comparatively more moral.

[ukan]

When the pig is still Lark sits down to pant and catch his breath. When Trevor looks at him he'll wag his tail furiously.

[atowncalledtreffy]

He relaxes when the pig dies, exhaling, sweating a little but that was far, far easier with Lark's help than doing it alone.

Trevor looks over and smirks when Lark wags his tail.

"Tell me that's a 'give me my clothes back' look and not a 'I'm going to stay a dog and leave you to carry the meat back' look."

[ukan]

He bark-howls what sounds a bit like an agreement and pads over to nose at Trevor. Clothes, please!

[atowncalledtreffy]

Unzipping the backpack, he fishes out Lark's clothes and hands them over.

"Don't get blood on them."

[ukan]

When he comes back clothed and human, he's rubbing the blood off his face and ecstatic.

"How was that?"

[atowncalledtreffy]

Trevor is grinning, stringing together the boar's front legs and back legs separately so that he can carry it out of the Enclosure.

"You're a monster. A born hunting wolf to make the best dogs proud."

[ukan]

He chuckles. "Then we should do this again. Maybe it'll keep you busy and keep other people off your back."

[atowncalledtreffy]

He snorts, and rolls his eyes.

"Those other people are usually the ones I'd be hunting." He tells him, and starts dragging the pig back to the Enclosure entrance. "Pigs are for Christmastime and feasts after Lent."

[ukan]

"Tell me what Lent is like." He's always been curious, but never had time to ask anyone who actually partook of it. "I've only observed Mardi Gras."

[atowncalledtreffy]

His brow furrows as Trevor translates:

"Fat Tuesday? I mean, Lent is...it's Lent. It's dark and you're hungry and you can't eat or drink what you want. I'm not so observant as I once was. But back before people were starving to death, you fasted for half the year and Lent's the most important and longest fast of that year. "

[ukan]

To most people that sounds awful. To Lark? It's exciting.

"What's the purpose behind the fast?"