CHPT 258: Life Struggles and Life Bursts in the Den of Wolves.

Sleep, the time of resting where the mind roams; to happy places...and of course, to ba--

"AHH-- SHIT THAT STINKS!" Claude snarled as he rose up off the cold cave floor, swiping where a giant foul-mouthed Troll once stood.

Once he realized the Astral Realm was no longer a place he occupied, he relaxed, shivering at the memory of his bout with the walker of the Mountains. To put it simply, it was nightmarish. A fitting word as always.

As if it's weird Troll-Runed stone club that terraformed the very floor beneath him wasn't enough of a problem, it also had skin tougher than anything he'd felt. Two factors that resulted in him taking more damage than he planned to. Which in turn resulted in it's foul breath fighting to infect his open wounds. Having an increased healing factor felt like a double edged sword in that moment. The wounds didn't go bad right away, but they also didn't get better either. Leaving his body in an endless battle with infection that left his wounds in incredible pain, only made worse as the fight went on.

He'd been thoroughly demolished on that mountain. But the challenge wasn't too much for him-- he wouldn't let it be.

"[I take it your meeting with the Troll didn't go so well, Hm?]" Arne spoke calmly, summoning a picture of a refined man drinking a cup of tea at a table made of the finest wood within Claude's mind.

The Phantom Wolves and Frosty greeted him in a shower of wagging tails and wet tongues as he replied, ".....Yea, you could say that. You could also just say I got my ass handed to me."

"[Tomato, Tomato. Always so grumpy...I wonder why?]" Arne replied, ending his words in a teasing tone.

Claude snapped at the air with agitation, "What is that? A jo--"

His words were cut short by the howling gurgles that erupted from his stomach as if he hadn't eaten in days. Following his own bodily exclamation of hunger, Frosty's stomach did the same from beside him.

"[Some people aren't themselves when they're hungry. Unfortunately, that's not the case for you. Either way, you still need to eat....and so does your pack.]"

Claude nodded in understanding to Arne's previous teasing and current words before getting up and pushing aside the green patch of vines that functioned like curtains over the cave to face the dark forest outside.

***

An hour later and he was back within the cold confines of the cave, feeding Ursula while the rest of the pack laid around inside, feeding on freshly hunted Deer and Bighorn Sheep-- Frosty seemed to have a set of taste-buds that favored the sheep more than the rest since he openly showcased his unwillingness to share with anyone but Claude.

While they all ate, he couldn't stop his eyes from continuously panning down to the sleeping Berserker as drop after drop of blood fell on her lips and trailed into her mouth.

Her wounds looked to be healing. Even the smallest of them were almost gone, while the others stood out on her paling skin and muscles, but she was looking less and less like her old self by the day. Sometimes he worried that he'd return to the cave and find a completely new person laying over the animal hides that signified her place of slumber.

He wanted to do more, more than anything. But Arne's continued reassurance that he was doing next to all he could stopped the thoughts from eating away completely at his brain. For now, all he could do was commit himself to the endless cycle of training. Eventually, he'd have to go looking for the Monster's that roamed wherever he'd traveled to, but for now, he needed to get a feel for the forest and a better understanding of his newest teammate. Gil.

Something he planned to do after eating...

After the spleen of the sheep he'd held over Ursula was emptied of the amazing smelling lifeblood of the creature, he'd tossed it across the cave to be snapped out of existence by one of the Wolves. Spleens were good, an organ that housed a plentiful reservoir of blood which in turn meant easy nutrients. They would be Ursula's bread and butter for a long time.

With that out of the way, he was left to sit with hands died red with blood. He stared at them for a long while as saliva dripped from his jaws, running freely like a river. This happened often around breakfast. Body brought to life by adrenaline and mind made primal by the hunt.

The scents that wafted from his bleeding pawed hands smoothly entered his nostrils and left him feeling a light buzz that thrummed against his skull. It was an odd feeling that he couldn't help but notice-- it was getting stronger. What was once a simple pulse that almost made him tired had grown into what was now a steady vibration. The urge to simply lick the blood from his hands and descend on the raw remnants that littered the cave was nearly inescapable.

But he couldn't. He didn't like the idea, he didn't like what it meant. And he was coming up on being fully transformed for a week. All the more reason why he couldn't.

The progenitor-- and creator of the ones that murdered his Father, Remus used to force something similar onto his recently changed followers. He still remembered the night in the University when Arne told him all about, The Second Coming of Satan, Remus. He'd grab the strongest he could from all over and bite them, gifting them with the curse of Remus and then he'd force them to transform for weeks....months....years. However long it took to shatter their wills and leave them as little more than super powered attack dogs.

He was beginning to wonder if that would happen to him. How long would it take for his human mind to melt into one with his Lupine mind in his current state?

Plop!

The sound of a wet object falling at his feet took him out of his thoughts. In front of him, Gil stood over him with a freshly ripped piece of Deer meat occupying the space between them.

"This for me?" Claude asked as he looked at the horns that stood where Gil's eyes should've been.

The Hound nodded before spitting a tuft of green flame onto it, leaving a freshly cooked slab of meat in it's green wake while spirals of steam erupted from it's endless rows of shark and wolf-like teeth.

"Ahh...that's more like it. Thanks." Claude said before eating away at the cooked Deer meat in a rush to quell the starved growls of his stomach.

It only took a couple minutes, but after running through a pound or more of cooked Deer with Gil, he was satisfied and ready to take on the night.

As he got up to clean up the leftovers of breakfast from within the cave, his eyes zeroed in on the place between his feet where Gil had cooked their breakfast. A crack ran through the floor. Burning weeds beneath and steam flowed from its depths where a small collection of weeds once lived. If he focused, he could still feel the Nature running deeper within, all he had to do was reach for it and feed it his power. A simple procedure-- even for someone like him who lacked finesse to an almost depressing degree.

A light sheen of green energy cloaked his hand as he moved to regrow the weed through the crack, burned by Gil's flames.

Within his mind, what he should've imagined as a green flame of life; seemed more like the beginnings of a tornado of green wild-fire. Before he could think more on it, a very small explosion took place within the cave.

FWOOSH!

Claude was so stunned by the burst of movement that he leapt off the ground like a stunned panther while the Wolves exploded to their feet and began warily sniffing at the large green bush that now swallowed the crack in the ground entirely and stood out like a sore thumb in the cave/den.

For a small collection of seconds, he looked from his hand to the bush and then to Gil. The Hound sat calmly in the distance, looking at him with an eerie level of perception for someone who lacked eyes. He knew what happened, he knew what he did.

"[Erhm. I think it's safe to say that's no normal Growth Boost.....]"

".....Yea. I think It's time we learned more about Gil."

"[Agreed..]"