Chapter Text
The first time they're able to catch the proverbial scent is in the midst of a match of all things.
Things are quiet for the moment at least, most squads having been fairly aggressive in the beginning, leaving them with only nine full groups, including their own, and two of two with them only on the second ring. While the hunter is always itching to be active in the arena, even in the sense of peering down the scope of a rifle, they're thankful for the calm as their two teammates, Bangalore and Wraith, loot the nearby buildings. They have enough, they'll sweep through for a bit more ammo before they leave the location, but their focus is entirely elsewhere for the moment.
Surprises occur in the arena with every single match; their occurrence is truly the only consistent, dependable thing to happen; but not like this.
Of course blood is spilled, it's a gladiatorial free-for-all and the people enjoy seeing the viscera without getting their hands dirty. If there's anything more expected than surprises, it's bloodshed; but not like this.
Presently the object of the hunter's attention was one of the flyers, dead in its cage. Not so unusual a sight, occasionally they were actually dispatched by groups passing through hoping to keep them quiet, but… not like this.
The creature was nearly beheaded, deep gouge marks in what they could see of its neck, chunks of flesh missing from the thing's side where it had been pulled to the bars, contorted in such a fashion the hunter had trouble telling if any of its bones were still fully intact. Skin and ground were painted thick with inky blood that had long since gone to sticky and then to mostly dry. This was an old kill, hours ago at the least, and no competitor could have done this if they had wanted; not even that andskoti and his claws.
What beast had caused this then? Not even a prowler's claws could run so deep. It sent equal parts curiosity and wariness curling through Bloodhound.
They wanted to know what manner of beast lingered in the arena, because surely something so capable of such morbid destruction was not a beast that the hunter had ever encountered. After all, they didn't recognize those bite wounds, nor the claw marks, nor the few bloodied paw prints that had dried to nearly blend into the ground (though even to them they were hard to make out). This was something foreign to them, a rare occurrence to be sure, and intimidating as the remnants that alluded only to power and rage were, it only served to draw them in more, ever curious.
They highly doubted it would interest their companions as much as it did them, and while they were right, they were a touch surprised to see them both so invested.
Wraith was the first to step forward from the buildings when Hound announced they had found something irrelevant to the match but of interest nonetheless. Her brows furrowed and corners of her lips turned down as she too looked over the mutilated body of the creature. "I've never seen anything that could do this; even in all the time I stayed in the arena."
Bangalore came second, a similar expression on her face. "What the fuck…" Hound felt somewhat more content to know that they were not the only one to find it unnatural and disturbing.
They continued a brief, quiet chat with Wraith, attention only drawing away at the soldier's next comment. "Almost looks like a big dog." She observed, looking at a more prominent print a ways away from the cage that they had not initially seen, but, cocking their head at it they agreed, though 'big' was the understatement of a lifetime. The central pad of the print was as big as their palm if not bigger.
A round from a charge sentinel took the liberty of chipping the index pad print from the concrete and thus the slaughter and the beast responsible faded from their focus as they engaged back in the games, but it did not fade from their memory.
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They came home to a quiet house, not so atypical, all the lights off. Truly they preferred candles and soft lamps and would likely go about lighting them in a moment, but indignant peeps and squawks that broke the silence demanded their attention. A smaller raven, speckled with white sat upon the perch in the corner, not too unlike a cat tree, looking at the hunter demandingly.
Tyra.
She had followed the hunter back one day after a hunt and made herself right at home, so Hound had welcomed. More eyes for their hunts were always welcome, not to mention to have a raven follow them after such a good trip as it had been was surely nothing other than a good omen and sign of the Allfather's favor. They would have been a fool to turn her away, not to mention there was some small satisfaction they got from having two ravens of their own now.
Though really they supposed she had become more Loba's bird than their own. She had a mischievous and cunning streak to rival Loki himself, pestering Bloodhound as they wrote or carved or embroidered, relentless in her want for attention and to be a nuisance. And yet a simple call of her name from their partner and she was sitting on her shoulder like an angel who could do no wrong.
Perhaps the first time it had irked them somewhat, but not it was more endearing than anything else.
The squawking continued with the small bird hopping impatiently. Like a toddler with a tantrum, Hound thought, chuckling softly to themselves as they fished for some of the supplementary bird feed they kept. While cooperative and (mostly) well behaved, the birds were not domesticated and Bloodhound hardly viewed them as pets, letting them out to hunt and scavenge for themselves and properly stretch their wings, but they also made sure they didn't go hungry.
No sooner had they pulled the jar out than the smaller bird was attempting to shove her beaks into it. "Impatient." Hound scolded, gently pushing her away, earning a nip to one of their gloves. Artur, well-mannered creature he was continued the scolding, moving from the hunter's shoulder and to the counter, giving a disapproving noise of his own.
Leaving the pair to squabble, they simply made two decent sized piles and left them to sort it out.
Allowing a small weight to slip from their shoulders they sighed, moving through the dark rooms to their own, stripping off their headpiece and helmet, goggles, gloves, and all the pouches that adorned them following soon after.
They could feel the weight of the match settling into the bones, leaving them weary and in want of a lie down, but there were at least a few more things they wished to attend.
Hound and their squad had taken third place, but ultimately grew outmatched in gear, unable to find anything of substance along their way to the final ring. Bad luck for the day and nothing more. Disappointing, though things could have gone much worse, and all three of them had gone down fighting with honor.
It was not something that weighed on their mind, but Loba… oh, they knew she was bound to be sour after her defeat today.
Competitive as they were, they liked to see her succeed, to outthink and outmatch them even, when she was able. She had today, had them pinned perfectly and dead to rights. She had been who they had gone down to, and in terms of gear she and her squad could not have been poised more perfectly to take the win for themselves.
They didn't even see it, but the aftermath.
Not seconds after she had finished them off, did a well placed triple take shot and frag see to her end and with her armor depleted from her fight from the hunter themselves, well…
They knew it was why she was absent presently, out on a run or at the range to blow off some steam. Hound knew her routines by now as well as they knew their own.
She'd be returning within a half hour.
They'd finish lighting the candles and draw a bath for her.
Correct in their knowledge and assumptions, the tub was just nearly finished filling when they heard the door open and shut, thankfully with not too much force. They didn’t expect just a run to work off all of her frustrations, but they were glad to hear that it appeared as though most of them had dissipated.
They remained just long enough to shut the water off so it wouldn’t flood before they were exiting the bathroom, steps slowing and lips starting to curl upwards at the edges at the sight they walked in upon: Loba fresh from whatever workout she had conducted with Tyra perched on her forearm, gently scratching beneath the bird’s chin.
Golden eyes flicked over to them and she snorted softly, a tiny smile of her own forming before her attention was back on Tyra.
“Stop looking at me like that; I’m covered in filth.”
“And yet you are still a vision of beauty nonetheless.”
Their smile only widened that much further when their flattery made her huff in amusement, as dry as the sound might have been.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Witt.” The she-wolf commented, gently dismissing the spotted bird back to her perch. “I heard enough cheesy little lines from him today, I don’t need to come home and hear you spouting them too.”
“I suppose I could spare you of them for the moment.” They teased softly, stepping close enough to press a soft kiss to their love’s cheek, happy that it at least made her own smile widen a bit, though it wasn’t hard to tell that she still wasn’t at her all. That usual sharp gleam in her eyes was absent, and they were far more used to a smirk than a smile from her. Hopefully their efforts wouldn’t fall short.
“I drew you a bath. Go relax, ástin mín; I’ll take care of dinner.”
The softening of her expression as they spoke had their heart melting, as it did every time, unused to such a gentle look from Loba. They absolutely loved it though.
“You are much too sweet, Hound.”
A press of her lips to their own that was far too short followed and then they were stepping aside to let her saunter past to the bathroom, and with that they were heading to the kitchen.
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They had eaten, Hound had showered, and now they sat on the floor, back against their bed with Loba in front of them and between their legs. All else taken care of, they’d been content to sit with her and let her voice her troubles of the match; vent the last of her frustrations out into open air, punctuating the end with a sigh.
Bloodhound let the comfortable silence trail on for a moment, fingers threading through her hair as they went about braiding it for her with practiced hands. A few beats later though and they were speaking, hoping to provide something of a distraction for the thief and to further share their discovery.
“I came across the strangest thing earlier in the match.” Bloodhound started, continuing once they got an interested hum in response. “One of the flyers dead in its cage. Not uncommon, no, but you should have seen it, dearest; mangled as it was. Nearly missing its head and twisted so.”
Again she hummed initially. “You know better than any how many beasts wander around at night. And they are caged up after all. Maybe a pack of prowlers simply took advantage.”
Even if it went unseen, they shook their head behind her. “No prowler I have ever seen was capable of such mutilation. And anyhow, there was only one set of tracks around the cage; absolutely massive prints. Beloved, you do not know how I yearn to find out what left them. Perhaps within the week I’ll be able to stake out and see if I cannot find any other trace of it.”
Braids finished, Loba sighed softly and turned to face them with hardly an unkind look on her face, though they already knew that expression to be one of disagreement.
“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself against anything-”
“But?”
“But, if whatever it is is as big and powerful as you say, wouldn’t it be best to try and learn a little more about it before hunting it? I’d feel much better if you at least had an idea of what you were up against.”
Bloodhound’s excitement wilted somewhat, but… well, she was right. Even if they were eager to hunt and face the creature.
“Very well.” Eventually they agreed and Loba smiled, a sweet genuine thing, leaning forward to press an equally sweet kiss to their lips.
“Good dog.” She teased them with a toothy grin before rising. “Now come on; I’m tired and the bed isn’t warm enough when it’s just me.”
Hound laughed quietly and followed her beneath the sheets, arm curling snugly around her waist, pulling them back to front and quickly growing comfortable.
She truly was right. If it was already in the arena, plentiful with all other manner of beasts even if they weren’t caged, whatever it was would be unlikely to move on so quickly.
They had time.