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Past the rolling hills of South Ebott and beyond the clearest, widest lake of the continent was a forest. One that had long predated the local monster and human communities alike. It's trees shadowed over the gorges hanging off dabbled waterfalls, with canopies so thick that the forest floor was forever trapped in a perpetual state of night.
Within this forest was magical flora and fauna of all kinds. There were whispers centuries old of panaceas and curses rooted deep in the moss and marrow of the place; treasures hidden deep within the land's belly, like shards of glass amongst sand.
However, not a single local has dared disturb the unruly kingdom over hundreds of years, even with the sweet promise of untold fortune and wonder, no curious feet had ever made landfall in the wild landscape.
Because they knew the forest was home to a beast. One much unlike the camouflaging wildcats of the mountains, the igneous bulls of the fields, or even the grand eagles overhead. This one was in a league of its own.
And he was growing weary from it.
Nightmare heaved a low, rumbling growl from deep within his barrel chest, sullen and dull in it's reverberation. The surrounding foliage shuddered with every thump, thump, thump of his heavy footfalls, but not a creature stirred. Anything that had remained in his lands knew better than to draw attention to themselves.
And in the absence of life, silence had prevailed for miles, a gaining weight that dug into the ache that worsened with the marching of time. An ache that started with 'L', and rhymed with 'bonely'.
Hissing a sigh, the aged king approached the edge of the bayou with a dragging pace. Before dipping into the murky and brackish water, his eye caught his reflection- or at least the silhouette of it. Nightmare rumbled and appraised the heavy, scaled arch of his back, dressed in nicks and chips from battles long past. It had evaded his notice up until now, but it was apparent that a considerable number were growing brittle and flaky.
A low yawning of his maw revealed the faint glimmer of countless needle teeth, many of which were worn and dull without the assistance of much smaller and slimmer claws to maintain the upkeep. He lightly swiped his tongue over one of the blunted fangs, and groaned in displeasure. He did not like the dry taste they had gathered.
Finally, he dared to meet his own gaze. The frosted blue of his eyelight had long enervated, winking out into the degraded aquamarine it was today. But it was the cut and dry emptiness within that truly perturbed him. It sickened him, infuriated him beyond end, to be faced with such a husk of his former glory.
Sprouting from the betrayal of his very nature, no less.
"...You pathetic relic..." Unable to stare down the truth any longer, Nightmare turned away, swiping a clawed hand over the water and warping the imperfect mirror beyond recognition. He bristled as his thoughts grew more aggressive, more angry as his instincts and hormones and basal magic raged and tantrumed over his state. The stare of a beast who had won everything- and in doing so, had inherited nothing.
Acting quickly to calm his mind, Nightmare slid into the cool waters, the silt clouding around his bulk with a thick puff. Submerged from the world, he let the murk hide the worst of his deterioration. Here, he could pretend the silence was a choice. Here, the oppressive stillness of his territory felt less like a jilted prison, and more a soothing balm.
Lonely...
The word was a poison in his marrow. It was the rot that withered down the strongest, and it was festering within him. A biological urge that could not be disregarded, no matter how the beast within himself held itself above such lowly temptations.
Nightmare rested his skull against the muddy bank, letting the soft sediment pool around him as it settled. The chill of the mud did well to soften the aches and tension of so many years built up alone. The decades he spent denying the most archaic of urges were finally beginning to mount upon him.
The mating season was something he'd never dared to humor before. It was always beneath him: the disquieting whines and desperate scents of lesser beasts were a nuisance. The inane courtships that changed as fast as the seasons. The fools who turned up their noses at the prospect of even considering him as a mate.
Beasts in the past had always treated Nightmare's dominance as insult to their fragile pride. Migrators would take one look at the crocodile that had laid claim to these lands and retreat the way they came. Until they stopped coming at all...
Which had been fine with Nightmare, of course.
Who needed a parasite that would mooch off of his kills? Or trample all over his territory as if it were just as equally as theirs? Who'd take advantage of every hard-earned bounty he'd spilled blood and guts for his entire life, simply as the cost for bearing him young?
He was happy with his power.
He was content to be alone.
And yet his stupid body couldn't make amends with his pride. Every year it ached. The feverish heat licking in his soul stoked hotter and hotter, a humiliating reminder of a need his stubbornness could not conquer. It was stupid. It was asinine.
"Grawhk-! Hhhhiss!" Nightmare surged up and snapped at the water's surface with his jaws, creating a flurry of frothy waves and sloshing bubbles in his fit, fury only reaching feverish heights as he saw blurred faces behind his eye, laughing at him. Pitying him...!
Unacceptable! He didn't need a mate! He had felled beasts twice his size! He devoured entire packs of those who'd dare come after him! He was a god in every sense of the word! A living deity! And yet-!
And yet, here he was... brought so low from his own biology.
Just as quickly had his anger peaked, did it drop down, down, down, until the fire in his veins chilled and curdled into something sickly and sluggish. Nightmare let out a broken whine - for only him to ever know - and rolled over onto his back. Bobbing in the water like a grand fallen log.
Nightmare gazed far up into the canopy, into the dark itself, curling in on himself just a little more as the pain bored deep. "Why have you cursed me so...?"
Of course, the stars - ever few seen through the dense forest awning - never gave him an answer. They were ever cold and distant to his suffering.
Just as they always were, and will be. As is his fate.
Cross' feet were beginning to drag. It was a subtle thing, a fractional loss of the crisp, efficient stride that usually ate up the miles, but it was all he needed to know: they wouldn't be lasting much longer at this rate.
Killer noticed it too, no doubt. It didn't take long until the hyena was settling to match his pace, a lax, casual grin meant to keep Cross disarmed on his face as he gravitated to his side.
Killer looked him over, and seemed to come to the same conclusion that he did. "You're not looking too hot there Crossy."
"...We'll take a break once we find a safe source of clean water."
A dry scoff broke from behind them.
"Better chances at finding fresh carrion," Dust picked at his feathers from his perch upon Horror's shoulders, looking down at the pair with a less than impressed baring of teeth (it couldn't really be described as a smile).
With a heaving sigh, the vulture gestured to the lands ahead. "The forest ahead is all mangrove trees. Meaning marshlands and mires, an' I wouldn't call those waters clean or safe."
Horror narrowed his eye, a thin line pressing over his jaw as he grumbled, "that... sounds like a real important thing ta have known... before we entered the woods..." Despite the accusatory edge to his words, his tone remained low and rumbling, more weary frustration than true anger. For now.
Dust scowled as if his wings were spat upon and fluffed up his feathers in insult. "Hey! I told Cross earlier that we should have stopped at the river before the cliffside."
"Because you wanted to preen," Cross cut in. He didn't turn to look at Dust, his gaze fixed on the dark foliage as he made their path. "Besides, that river was too wide. There wasn't enough space between the riverbank and the treeline to properly watch our backs and you know it."
Dust made another comment, but it was half-hearted. Killer at least found the entire exchange amusing, letting slip a short chuckle before retaking his position in the back. A reluctant and uneasy air hung over them, but the pack still marched on, ever certain to follow the alpha.
Cross paid no mind to the swell of anxiety that passed through him at the thought. He compartmentalized that for later, to digest in the safety of a crude den with a vantage-point.
Instead, the reminder of all the responsibility he carried upon his shoulders made Cross snap back into focus. His brain regaining crystal clarity - just for that moment - with the sole purpose of guiding and protecting his mates.
"We'll settle for the day in the next reasonably open clearing. Any beasts that live in this area would likely be ambush attackers." At least that's what Cross figured to be the case. It made sense that the native beasts here would use the dense vegetation to their advantage, right? This stretch of terrain was very much unlike their previous territory- but Cross trusted that he could still foresee danger before it befell them.
Now that he was thinking of their home... It had been nearly a month since they were forced away by the humanfolk. In the past, hunters and other trespassers would leave them be: a healthy respect existed between beast and human and monster, that he could recognize now, in hindsight.
Until the new ones with their screaming machines and stinging metal cut into the heart of their den and strongarmed them into fleeing. The memory of the scent - oil, poison, and cold iron - made Cross’s hackles rise even now.
He missed their home. The crisp, frosty air that felt clean in the lungs. The sparce, mighty trees that graciously allowed few to hide, but enough cover to attract the desperate. Back then, pine, cedar and frost were the only scents to decorate their territory.
It was simple. It was theirs.
Now, everywhere they went was wrong in every way: drastically warmer temperatures that fucked with both Cross' and Horror's biological-schedules, cluttered biomes that made it difficult for Dust to roost, and less and less exposure to moonlight as they walked the night, slowly driving poor Killer into a mood. The pack was having harder and harder times to deal with.
Cross missed racing across the tundra in the starry, moonless nights with Killer. He missed Horror's obnoxiously large earth oven- and how Dust would always complain about it taking too much room in their den, yet always falling asleep right next to the mouth of the fire. He even missed that rotten elk carcass none of them ever committed to throwing out.
At least the vague smell of dew and rot in this leaden land served to play some form of comfort, strikingly similar to the smell of the ice melt rivers and mossy boulders from the mountainside. It was the closest thing to familiarity the wolf had found in weeks- and a small part of him couldn't help but feel a small reluctance at the idea of passing through so quickly.
"Hol' up."
Horror jerked to a stop mid-march, causing Dust to let out a breathy curse as he dug in his claws to avoid tipping over. Everyone kept their eyes pinned to the surrounding greenery- and to Cross' realization, he cursed to find how wet of an area they stumbled upon, now noticing the gleam of water just a few paces away in their path.
"What is it, Horror?" Please, let it just be something small, they can't afford any trouble in this condition...
The massive bear hybrid had gone still, vaguely glowering at the looming shadows with paranoid vision. "Air's changed," Horror murmured. He lifted a heavy hand, scruffing at his nasal ridge, as if trying to wipe away something sharp and irritating. "Somethin' else lives here... and they ain't shy to announce these... their stomping grounds..."
Fuck.
Killer slipped forward, grin now twisted into a sharper mask. The hyena's ears flicked as he crouched down, ribcage rubbing against the dirt as he worked his ever keen magic.
"Big guy's right." Killer scented the air, only to recoil just as fast with a haggard cough, jittering uncomfortably as his magic worked through whatever scent he'd choked upon. "H- Holy shit. F- Fuckin- beast all right. But this guy's probably a century old at least. Magic's old but stuck to the land real deep."
Cross felt his ears pin back, giving the area another weary glare. This wasn't good. He didn't expect anyone would lay claim to such a place.
"Only one scent?"
"Yeah, if there's others I ain't picking up on em."
The wolf hummed, considering their options.
On one hand, they were already tired and worn from trailblazing through such a wild land; turning back may be safer considering the unknown, but it would be well past dawn before they found any safe locations for rest. Not to mention how much time they'd have to waste cutting though a completely different direction in order to avoid this territory.
They could push forwards instead, but that held risk and consequences as well. They'd inevitably have to confront the ones who held this territory, and depending on potential negotiations, they could either be given a momentary respite, sanctioned by the ruling alpha... or they'd have to impose themselves by force.
However they had no way to determine how strong the pack - individual? - living here was. The old magic implied that whoever ruled this territory has done so for a long time, which meant they were either incredibly powerful, or nobody else worth their salt was interested in this place.
...Cross was willing to bet on the former.
Dust finally deigned to hop down from Horror’s shoulders, landing with a soft thump on the damp earth. He stretched his wings lazily, but his eyes were scanning the trees with a new, focused avarice. "No pack. We'd have seen signs much earlier than now if there was a group here... But this territory is pretty fucking big for one beast..." The vulture's voice trailed off, a disturbed shudder fluffing up his feathers.
"I don't like this." The dread in Dust's tone sent Cross' fur to stand on end, recognizing his unspoken desire to flee.
Of course, it was only now, as he stared back into the uncertain and fearful eyelights of his pack, that Cross really acknowledged how unnaturally silent this forest was. From the moment they crossed into boggy, waterlogged lands.
The alpha swallowed down his urge to vomit. Knowing this was his fault. Because of his lack of observation. Because he let himself get distracted.
"We can't go back," Cross croaked, unable to look any of them in the eye as he spoke. Not able to handle the guilt. "We're exhausted. The trees are too dense for Dust to get a proper aerial scout, and running back exposed in the day is worse than facing one beast, even an old one." He tried not the think about the shallows he knows lie ahead. "We move forward. Quietly. We don't hunt, we don't rest. We cross this territory as fast as we can, and we hope they're as old and tired as their magic suggests."
A small part of him - a foolish, optimistic part of himself - hoped they might not even have to face this beast, with the land being so vast.
Killer was strangely silent as Cross made his decision, but he didn’t argue. He just gave a sharp, jerky nod, before falling into place near his side. In support.
They made it a couple meters or so until they met the water.
Despite Cross' hopes, it was the end of the marshland and the beginning of a true swamp: murky waters that stretched out past what he could see under the black of canopy, water that could be shallow enough to wade through or deep enough to swallow them whole, with no way to tell until they stepped into it. Rotted logs and thick, tangled roots created a labyrinth. The stench of decay and stagnant water was overpowering.
"Fuck me," one of them whispered. Cross couldn't tell who.
The wolf took in a deep, fortifying breath as he slowly, numbly made the first step into water. It was a little above ankle deep, with peat clinging to the gaps between his bones. The cold seeped in immediately, a damp, unwelcome chill that bit through the weariness.
Cross took another breath as he took his next step. Until he was successfully wading through the bog without feeling as if he was about to get snapped up by the unseen. Behind him, he heard the soft sloshing of water as the rest of his pack followed.
Slosh, slosh, slosh. The stirring of the water was incredibly loud in the dead air, keeping Cross' teeth clenched, watching the many chaotic ripples spread out across the surface and into the darkness beyond his sight.
Slosh, slosh, slosh. The water was almost to his ribs now, and there was still no end in sight. The water varied unpredictably, sometimes dropping to a mere film over mud, sometimes sucking hungrily at their knees.
Slosh, slosh, slosh. The trees began to lighten some, as they approached what Cross was beginning to think of as the center of the wetlands. Allowing them to see the barest hint of stars through the vines and mossy vegetation.
It was just as he spotted what might've been the beginnings of solid land that Cross felt a ripple against his chest. From movement ahead.
Before the alpha could even pull back, something surged up from the below the surface.
"Keeek!" Dust let out an unhappy screech as water exploded everywhere, billowing out in a violent surge that sent waves crashing into the trunks and roots around them.
Cross staggered back a half-step on instinct, teeth bared, hackles fully raised as something massive broke the fragile sense of peace- not lunging, not striking, not yet, but rising with slow, terrible certainty.
The swamp parted around it.
A ridged, bony spine surfaced first, plates of thick, scarred scales glistening wetly in what little light bled through the canopy. Water sluiced off the skeletal figure in heavy sheets, the sound moving like a river as the rising mass seemed to grow and grow and grow.
Horror’s breath hitched low in his chest, a sound halfway between a growl and a curse. The bear moved without thinking, planting himself just a little closer to the center of the group, one massive claw angling protectively in front of Dust as the vulture floundered for balance in the disturbed water.
“Easy,” Horror rumbled under his breath, never daring to turn his gaze away from the threat.
The head rose last.
Nightmare’s skull broke the surface with a slow roll, jaws closed, eyelight already sharp and focused. Pale aquamarine cut through the dark like cold glass, fixating on them with a stare so heavy it felt like packed snow against Cross’ ribs. Algae and silt slid from over the crocodile's shoulders as he lifted higher, waterline sinking down his throat and chest as he planted himself against the unseen bottom of the swamp.
Cross felt his eyes widen dramatically, taking in the sight of what had to be the largest beast he'd ever seen. He thought nothing could ever top Horror's bulk- but that assumption shattered beneath the sheer, obscene scale of the monster before them.
Nightmare rose until the water lapped low against his ribs, his bulk dwarfing the mangled trees around him. He was broader than Horror by far: longer, heavier, built like the land itself had decided to stand up and breathe. Scars webbed across his plated hide in pale, jagged lines, most old enough to be half-smoothed by time.
Cross’s mouth went dry. His instincts screamed in a way they hadn’t since the night the humans came- sharp, panicked, useless. Every lesson he’d ever learned about facing danger buckled under the weight of that stare.
One beast.
Just one.
And he was more than enough to know they didn't stand a chance.
For a long, terrible moment, there was only the drip of water and the ragged, too loud sound of their own breathing.
The opposing beast was coiled tightly with blatant anger and malice, yet he did not strike immediately. Nightmare took his time evaluating the trespassers; he struck each face off a list in his head as he matched each scent to individual, taking in their staggered forms, the way they stood amongst each other not strangely, but with familiarity that reflected a longstanding bond. A pack.
A low, rumbling sound vibrated the water around him- not quite a growl, but more a visceral hum of contempt. A pack had intruded on his sanctuary. Of course, after years of being left to himself, it was in the midst of his most inconvenient annual biological cycle that he'd be disturbed.
Seeing others - beasts so much lower than himself - standing together with such care and loyalty only brought bitterness to his mouth...
It would be troublesome to dispose of them all, more work than he'd rather deal with now. But Nightmare did not let inconvenience stay his judgment. He took in each and every one of his paralyzed audience: a wolf in the front, a hyena and bear behind, and a carrion-bird in the back. An all around well-balanced pack- for their size.
At least there were enough of them to last his stomach a month or so...
“You,” the voice that emerged was like the crunch of freezing snow, or the off-distance singing of the falcon and owl beasts in the wind-driven nights. There was a haunting note - a backtoned lilt - that brought chills up the spine. Cross felt his throat tighten as the beast settled on him. Recognizing him as the leader.
“Vermin.” You are not welcome here. Know your place.
Cross’s mind raced, scrabbling for any way to defuse the animosity, any custom that could apply here. Parley? Surrender? Fight? Every option withered under that glacial gaze, he knew none would result in anything good.
But he was the alpha. His pack’s safety was his responsibility. He had to speak. Do it...!
“We meant not to trespass in your territory,” Cross began, hoping the larger beast didn't catch the break in his voice. He kept his posture tall but non-threatening, ears angled back in wary respect. “Our pack is just passing through. We are migrating and lost our way." As someone who once held his own territory, Cross knew how the crocodile would take it if he knew the true reason for their march.
A pack who had recently lost their own den, walking right into the belly of an abundant territory kept by a single beast...
It would be seen as nothing less but a direct challenge for the land beneath their very feet. One fought to the death.
Nightmare’s laugh was a short, wet hack, and the wolf flinched at the sound.
“Liar. You lot stink of desperation. Of exhaustion. You aren't looking to ‘pass through.’ You're here to annex my territory." The beast said it as fact, already certain and incapable of changing his mind.
Shit. Shitshitshitshit-
A low, warning growl built in Horror’s chest, the bear looking ready to jump to the defense of his kin. Cross flicked a glance at him- a silent command to hold. They couldn’t win this fight. Not here, chest-deep in the crocodile's element.
Cross could feel the time slipping from him, opportunity becoming a slimmer and slimmer as haste bled into his voice. "We're not here for a fight. We really only wish to pass through."
"Whether you seek one or not, there's no reason for me to spare you." Nightmare’s muzzle twitched, a flash of those worn, countless teeth glinting menacingly. "You have made the mistake of crossing my path."
His tail gave a single, powerful lash beneath the surface, sending a lurching wave slamming against Cross' chest, making him fight for his balance.
“The only ‘passing through’ you will do,” Nightmare continued, "is through my jaws."
It was the absolute certainty the crocodile spoke with that had Cross' fur standing on end; it was like a light flashed in his mind, a moment of understanding.
This beast did not care about their offense. Not truly. He had no interest in negotiation. Not a thought of sparing them.
Arbitrarily, he just wanted to kill them. Just because.
The fear finally bid the wolf into action. Cross bared his teeth with a snarl, eyelights pinpointing the rival beast's jugular, knowing that maybe if he moved fast enough, he could take the threat down without their pack having to fight to the death. It was suicidal. It was stupid. But instinct had taken control, and all that was left was this one last attempt to protect his-
A hand snagged his shoulder before he could lunge out, not-so gently wrenching Cross behind another body as Killer stepped forwards with a neutral grin.
A ripple of surprise went through the pack as Killer inserted himself between Cross and the looming crocodile, palms raised in a loose, almost careless gesture. Not surrender - never that - but without challenge. His posture was relaxed in a way that felt wildly inappropriate given the adversary towering over them.
“Whoa, whoa, easy there, big guy,” Killer drawled, voice light and even conversational. “No need to get messy right out the gate.”
Cross twisted, teeth snapping at air in protest. “Killer-!”
“Shh.” Killer didn’t look back. His ears flicked once, a silent trust me.
While Cross had talked, the hyena had felt something out of place, recognizing an element or two amiss with the situation. Why was this beast so aggressive? Sure, anger was an effective tool for alphas to cover up insecurity in the face of a threat- but there was nothing for this beast to be insecure about. Even with the four of them, this crocodile had them outmatched.
So why the aggression? Why so eager to devour them?
As the two alphas sized each other up, Killer carefully crept back, drifting backwards until he was sure Dust could hear him whisper at this range.
"Dust- somethin's up with this guy. He's too aggro, you got any ideas?"
The vulture didn't respond right away, but Killer knew he was heard as he felt sharp eyes stare into the back of his head.
"...Can't say for sure. But I think its mating season for reptiles."
The hyena felt his brow bones furrow, a small coil of alarm twisting in his belly. "Shit. Really?"
"Pretty fucking sure. It's not that potent but I think I caught a whiff of his pheromones when he emerged from the water."
Shit. That was the worst fucking news, the bastard was in heat, no wonder he was so fucking pissed if he had a-
Wait a minute.
"...You caught his scent earlier?"
"Yeah, pretty musky with some kinda spice to it-"
"You only caught his scent though?" Killer emphasized, something close to realization dawning upon him.
Dust's sockets widened by a fraction, the implication quickly travelling through his synapses. "Yeah... Just his."
A wolfish grin - more suiting Cross' face - lit up over Killer's features.
The crocodile was alone. In heat. Without a pack or mate to soothe the ache driving him feral.
That changed a lot of things. It explained why such a larger than life beast was so ruffled by their intrusion. It put into context the posturing and menace: he was taking his sense of malaise out on them, envious of their lack of understanding, knowing that as pack, they'd never be made to endure such agony.
...But, why didn't he have a pack...?
Even while the crocodile was exchanging clipped words with their alpha, Killer couldn't deny that his eyes strayed. Just a little. Nightmare's magic was refined to a fine, sharp edge- the mark of an apex with no equal, and while Killer never considered it before, the blackened bones were really doing it for him. The pride in the predator's stance spoke of him being confident and very capable.
A beast this powerful, ruling a territory this vast, should have had a court. A harem. Something...
He tried not to think about why that observation bothered him so much. Instead, Killer let the question settle somewhere in the back of his skull as he stepped forwards, swiftly putting himself between Cross and an impulsive suicide attempt.
His soul grew sickly warm and spun dizzily when that eye focused on him next. Killer's ears twitched as he composed himself, let his smarmy grin slide on like stones down a hill. And he told himself that his - just now forming - idea was strictly for their survival- the best way to make use of the information he had. Not because he liked the way the crocodile's bellow shook through his bones like ice.
Yes, this was all for the greater good of keeping them un-cannibalized. Yes...
"Alright, you got us. We were looking for something a little more than just passing through." Without breaking the charming leer he sent fluttering the beast's way, Killer dug his claws into Cross' shoulder, bidding him to silence the outburst he felt wanting to leave the wolf's chest.
Horror none too discretely shuffled in anxiety, not knowing Killer's plan, but Dust seemed to have gotten a handle on him as well.
Nightmare's glare turned suspicious and vindicated. "I knew it. Don't think an apology can earn you my mercy, scavenger. You and your kin should've known better than-"
"We came here for you."
"-to try and... what?" Nightmare faltered, the ice-cold flow of his threat cut off as utter confusion muddled the river of his thoughts and blurred out the dramatic monologue he had scripted.
What did he say...?
Cross stared at Killer’s back, a silent, bewildered what the hell are you doing??? screaming in his mind. But the wolf didn't interfere. He trusted his beta...
But Killer definitely never made it easy.
"C'mon~ We heard the rumors. About an untouchable apex predator who ruled a colony's worth of territory... One who... was built like chiselled stone, looked like a god... virile and, mmmn~ so very stunning~" Killer’s voice dropped several octaves, no longer hiding the shameless attraction on his face as he dared to step closer.
Nightmare... "What...?" Had no idea what to think- because there was no way this guy was serious. He was- he was toying with him! Trying to find a weak spot in his armour! Nightmare knew intimately what other beasts thought of him, and attractive nowhere near made that list.
As rationality returned to him, Nightmare felt disgust and fury brim up within his chest. The next step the hyena took, he lunged without warning, hissing furiously as his claws just barely missed crushing that stupid scavenger's face.
"Killer-!" The wolf made another move to charge, but this time was held back by the bird and bear.
Nightmare didn't care though, if they attacked, he'd simply put them down before they could even reach him. All of his attention was on the hyena, glaring at the foolish beast as he regained his balance after stumbling back.
"How dare you. You take me for a fool? A pompous lout?!" Killer didn’t flinch as Nightmare loomed. Yes, his ears were folded back with tension, but that grin had not fallen.
"You think finding a king like you attractive is foolish?"
It was just for a moment, but something akin to hurt flashed through the crocodile's eyelight before it chilled again. "I am not blind as to what beasts like you think of me." There was a bitterness there, old and deep as the stars.
And ah... There it was. That's what had him on edge.
"...Then the beasts around here are stupider than we thought. Who'd turn down such a pretty bloom?" Killer tilted his head just enough to bare the sharp line of his throat, a fire slowly building in him now. A determination to see this crazy plan through.
Bloom... Nightmare felt his stomach twist with knots.
Did they know...? How could they know? He was so careful to keep it all under control!
“We didn’t come here to steal your turf,” the hyena continued, voice low and steady. “And we sure as hell didn’t come to die." Killer offered another grin, a little awkward as he tried to forge something both genuine and beguiling. "We came to offer our services to the king."
Nightmare let out a tinny scoff, dry and brittle from the lump forming in his throat. "And what,” he snarled, stepping forward again, shadow swallowing Killer whole, “could you scavengers possibly offer me?”
"Company for the season," Killer drawled. Baring the crocodile's worst shame with such a flippant tone.
For the first time, Nightmare hesitated. He felt embarrassment crawl up his spine like rot, hot and sharp and humiliating. He wanted to scream and yowl and sever blood from bones.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped.
This time the carrion-bird spoke up with a irritable sigh, perched on the bear's shoulders. "He does, actually. The air's thick with it. You're in a bad way."
Mortifyingly, Nightmare felt his face heat up. "Shut up!"
Horror shifted his weight, the water sloshing around him as an uncertain hum left his mouth. He didn't quite get where this was coming from - as far as he knew, there was no heat scent around the terrifying predator - but he trusted his mates to know what they were doing. And if this beast was struggling through a heat alone...
A wince of sympathy came over him despite himself. "You shouldn't force yourself... to withstand it alone."
Nightmare’s gaze snapped to the bear, then back to Killer. The rage was still there, a live wire under his scales, but it was tangled now with something else: a shocking, terrifying flicker of hope. It made him feel sick.
Cross, noticing the distress coming over the opposing beast, finally found his footing to speak. To bring back a sense of order to the rapidly demanding negotiations. "Just give us a day. Let... Let us tend to your heat, ease the burn a little. And... And if at any point you decide you don't like it... you can simply finish us off then and there."
It was a terrible, desperate gamble... But it was the best shot they had.
Nightmare looked at them- the shameless, cunning lot and sneered. Cursing the beasts for using this against him. He hated the way his feverish core was already lighting up from their offer. The way his tightly drawn scent was unravelling every second- as if his body had already agreed without hesitation.
He shouldn't... He couldn't.
Nightmare had never once laid with another. Never taken a mate, never shared his heat, never even courted another. If he accepted this... If he accepted this, it could mean the end for him. Would his heart take it? Would he lose himself in them? Would he still be able to withstand the isolation after experiencing their touch?
It was vulnerability. It was weakness.
But the heat under his scales was a white-hot agony, and the idea of the silence continuing for another day, another week, felt equivalent to burning himself alive.
...It couldn't possibly hurt more than this? Surely...?
Nightmare shuddered, feeling something horrid gush from his core. "You want to... tend to me...?"
"Yeah," the wolf nodded. Spoken in a way he supposed was to be reassuring, but it only made Nightmare's limbs ache in exhaustion.
He hated them. He wanted them gone.
He also dreaded being left alone again.
Nightmare finally broke with a sharp, pained hiss. He turned his head away, unable to bear their collective gaze any longer.
"There's a small dell," he blurted, hunched and reluctant, "down the mire this way... we can... use that." Not allowing himself to second-guess, or think too hard about his decision, Nightmare didn't wait for their response. He turned and began to move through the water with heavy, sloshing strides, his posture rigid with shame and a stubborn, desperate hope.
It will be fine... Remember, if things don't go right, he can just kill them... Yeah...
In the wake of the apex predator's absence, Cross let out a shuddering breath, meeting Killer's eyes. You're insane, the look said, equally impressed as he was perturbed.
Killer just winked, then gestured for the others to follow.