Day 3 Morning

[Clownpiece]

Sounds of breath stirring in Somerled’s ear broke him out of his slumber. One eye cracked open for a moment, seeing that the sun hadn’t even peeked above the horizon, still a dark dawn. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut stubbornly, and he rolled over away from the breathing. Grass rustled as whoever was bugging him circled around to compensate for his rolling.

“Fuck off...” he muttered tiredly, swatting at them with one hand. The grass stirred intensely for a moment, and very suddenly, the monster’s body shifted. That caught his attention and his eyes shot open. He was greeted by the sight of a large, grey furred canine, presumably a wolf, with his left arm caught in its maw. Ripping his arm forward, he attempted to drag the beast to him. With so much unexpected resistance however, the wolf saw fit to release him, and jumped back.

“Just fucking try it!” Somerled shouted, leaping to his feet. Much to the monster’s dismay, the wolf didn’t want to try it, hopping back a bit more and beginning to circle him hesitantly. He ducked down quickly, hand shooting to the whip that had lay by his side when he slept. From that stand-still, his hand and the weapon shot up, rending apart the grass that got in the way, and snapping forward with a powerful crack. Twice more it cracked in quick succession, the music that filled the air helping to wake Somerled in the way adrenaline never could. With each crack, the beast hopped backwards a bit more.
Seeing that his furry little alarm clock wasn’t going to try and attack without some serious determination and reinforcements, the monster rushed forward, screaming like a madman and snapping the whip around with equal fury. This was the last bit of motivation the wolf needed, and it took off running, unharmed save for maybe a bruised ego.

“Get back here you fucking coward!” Somerled yelled at the retreating furred figure, voice full of rage. He took off in pursuit, snapping his weapon in front of him despite the increasing distance between the two as the wolf sped away, easily outpacing the monster.

Within minutes, his adversary was but a dot on the horizon, and realizing it was a fruitless venture to chase any more, Somerled came to a stop. An indeterminate shout left the spirit’s lips, and he started swinging his weapon about as wildly as before. For several minutes, the monster milled about, mowing down the grass around him in fury.

Finally, with the full force of anger starting to fade into something more simmering, Somerled dropped his hand and the weapon in it down to his side, gritting his teeth. With the light of dawn just beginning to peek over the horizon, the winds from the north rustling the grass around him, the monster turned and continued his walk. Something was going to turn up today. He could feel it.