“Let’s bring her out of the camp,” Captain ordered, looking away from Quiet finally. “The smell will attract other scavengers if she stays here much longer.”
Soft looked towards Quiet, her eyes calculating as she stared at her niece. Both of Soft’s daughters, Elegant and Grace, eyed her disdainfully, as if Gentle’s death was purely her fault. Quiet knew that her cousins despised her, simply because of the fact that she couldn’t speak. It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t help her disability- she had been born with it. Believe me, if I could fix myself, I certainly would have by now.
“Quiet,” Captain announced suddenly, eyes snapping back to look at her. She winced at his words, simply because of the harsh way that he spat her name- as if it was a disease that was infecting his tongue. “Take Gentle’s corpse away from camp. Rough and Giant will accompany you.” He nodded to the two coyotes that he named, both of whom stepped forward. Within moments the three of them were padding through the eerie, moonlit trees, milky light cast from the stars turning the auburn-colored leaves an ominously fiery color. Quiet was at the front, padding with her shoulders drooping and her head low, while Rough and Giant carried Gentle’s corpse along behind her. She was too weak to even help with the job at hand- why had Captain sent her out like this? Was it some sort of punishment? What had she done?
After a while of trailing silence, Giant gruffly announced that underneath a tall, flowering tree would be a proper place to bury Gentle. Quiet moved to help scrape out a subsequent grave but Rough shooed her away, his and Giant’s large paws working to dig far faster than Quiet could have. Sighing, she turned her back to them and padded a bit of a way along the trail that they had just created, back in the direction of their camp. When she could just barely see her counterparts she sat with her back to them, breathing out through her nostrils and bowing her head, closing her eyes. What am I supposed to do now that Gentle is gone?
Black Dye is the darkest Dye in all of ARK. It can color in things using a Paintbrush to spread its color. The Paintbrush can be used on all colors. If you do not have a Paintbrush, use the paint by dragging it onto things in your Inventory that glow green when you hold the Dye. If anyone wishes to craft Dye, use the Cooking Pot. I have chosen to write all of the information on all of the Dyes, Paintbrushes, and Cooking Pots in Black Dye because this Dye is closest to the left corner of the 'Dex Screen. If you wish to find out more, read my Tip in White Dye. It is marked "I am the SURVIVOR ", just like this Tip.
My name is DTG, I write Dodo tales, which starts in the snail section and is currently on its third season. Dodo tales S1 and S2 were bad, but S3 is getting really good now as of Ep10, which kind of revealed the new antagonist. Dodo tales unfortunately is on the verge of being cancelled, but i have decided that if it gets enough love and support, then maybe it will deserve not to be destroyed. The 🔼's I get have always inspired me to do more, and will continue to do so.
Over the next week, Quiet’s pack began to decline. It had started with the elder- what had his name been?- becoming sick and then passing. Then went Gentle. Then Giant and Rough. And now the litter of pups were deathly sick, one of them having already died. The rest of them were certainly not far behind.
Two days passed and the entire litter was gone and now buried in the ground. What had previously been a pack of sixteen had been reduced to seven. What Quiet didn’t understand was how any of this death was happening, nor how she had survived that long. If there really was a murderer amidst them… why hadn’t they killed her?
These thoughts kept the mute coyote up at night. She lay in her lonely den, curled up with her back pressed against the dirt wall behind her, nose tucked under her tail, as she pondered what could possibly be happening. There was so much sickness, so much blood. The sickness had to be coincidental. It had to be. There was no way in all of the stars that their murderer- whoever they were- could make the coyotes fall ill. There was no way. No way at all.
And yet… despite the way that she argued with herself at night about whether or not that could be possible, something deep down inside of her knew. It knew exactly what was happening- exactly who was doing this. But that small part of her, the section that held the final piece of the puzzle, refused to open up to the rest of her mind. It refused to let her realize who and what was doing this.
So she simply laid and pondered.
When Quiet finally dipped into sleep, morning came far too quickly. She was woken by a shrill cry. The cry of one of her pack mates.
Jumping to her feet and shaking sleep away from her, Quiet quickly blundered out of her sleeping place to find her aunt Soft hunched over something in the center of the clearing. Her head was bowed, eyes screwed shut, all while whimpers escaped her mouth.
As Quiet drew nearer, she saw that it was two somethings on the ground; Elegant and Grace. They were twisted, mutilated, so bloody that at first it was hard to identify which was which. Their stomachs were ripped wide open, revealing their hollow insides. Blood-coated organs were scattered around on the grass around them. Grace’s lower jaw was ripped away and lying beside Elegant’s tail. Elegant’s face was so shredded that it was impossible to make out whether or not her eyes were even still intact. Huge claw marks were scored down their sides, long and caked in blood. Quiet felt queasy just from looking at such a horrific sight, and she felt bile rise up in her throat as her stomach begged to vomit.
The rest of the pack was gathering now, letting out fearful cries and whispering to each other. What had been seven was now five. Five pack members left.
What felt like years passed before Rough and Giant returned, and finally the odd silence was too great for Quiet to bear. But before she could turn around and wander back over to them, HE appeared.
The black wolf was standing there beside her, smiling at her with nothing but a dead look in his eyes. The more he appeared, the more he made her skin crawl. But the longer that time went on, the more he came. It was as if he didn’t even have to travel to her- he could just appear out of nowhere with no sign of his presence beforehand. And then he would be gone again. Gone like the wind. Gone like…
Oh, Quiet, he mouthed ominously, a grin lacing his face. He crawled closer to her so that he was only a mere few inches away, lowering himself so that he could be level with her. He truly was a huge wolf: bigger than any she had ever seen before. It made her envious in contrast to her small size. So good to see you. With a swish of air he pushed his face up so close to her’s that their whiskers touched, his pale eyes boring into her own. Don’t you agree?
Quiet swallowed, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Unable to mouth anything, she nodded after a moment, forcing her head to move. No, she thought in contrast to her response. But I’m not going to tell you that.
Backing up a few steps, she spun around and looked back towards where Giant and Rough were apparently taking their sweet time on burying Gentle. She stopped in her tracks, stiffening as she stared back towards the flowering tree.
A tall pile of dirt was scraped up alongside a hole dug into the ground. Gentle’s body was nowhere to be seen- presumably in the grave- and Giant and Rough were splayed out on the ground, their front halves drooping limply down into the hole. Quiet’s breath quickened as she stared at their motionless bodies, rushing over.
Blood was running out from underneath the two of her pack mates, sliding through the dirt and grass and running down into the open grave, spilling onto Gentle’s corpse that was beneath them. It was one of the most gruesome things that she had ever seen, and it sent the fur all along her back standing up with intensity.
Slowly turning to look back, she saw that the black wolf still standing there, watching her with a smile twisted across his face. And then when she blinked, he was gone.
He stood with utmost silence, his expression ominously blank. His eyes, empty and lacking pupils, showed no emotion as they stared straight forward in her direction. He was several feet away, standing beneath a burly oak tree which littered dark scarlet leaves across the forest floor, canopy slowly thinning.
You don’t scream, he said soundlessly, mouthing out each word with exaggerated slowness. Quiet hesitated for a long moment before shaking her head, replying soundlessly with Cannot.
Mute? He asked, understanding what she mouthed within seconds. She nodded, which received her an emotionless smile as he slowly stepped closer. She stayed rooted, though stiffening her legs in case the need for fleeing came. He stopped a few inches away, his dry, ancient-looking nose hovering just above hers, close enough that she could smell his hot, sour breath on her face. Me too, he uttered finally, still fixing her with that deadly smile. Quiet blinked slowly, staring into the white pools of his eyes, feeling a chill zip through her veins.
Finally, she breathed, What is wrong with you?
He didn’t respond, instead turning and away padding into the trees. Quiet started after him and then delayed herself, pausing with one paw up in the air as he padded slowly through the brightly-colored leaf litter and then disappeared from sight all together. She stared after him for a long moment before ducking her head and sprinting back to her home.
As she arrived back in camp, her aunt Soft found her. Soft had two daughters, both of which were considered perfect; their fur was extravagantly colored, dappled with gray and streaked with black and blonde. They could both see, hear, and speak perfectly well, and Quiet knew that her mother had great envy towards her sister’s offspring. “Quiet!” Soft exclaimed the moment that she stepped out of the bronze-colored underbrush. “Where have you been? Captain wants every wolf accounted for to ensure that no one else is sick.” Her voice was scathing, her tone shameful. Quiet felt a surge of rage towards her aunt: could she not see the worry in Quiet’s eyes? Could she not feel the anxiety that rolled off of her like waves? Why did no one care?
Hiding the anger that she felt bubbling within her as best as she could, she followed Soft over to where the rest of the pack had gathered, nearby the elders’ den. Captain, their alpha, was making his rounds and giving a good sniff to every coyote, inspecting them to ensure that they were healthy. Quiet sat, sighing through her nostrils, and awaited her turn.
The black wolf appeared in her dreams the next following nights. He always repeated the same thing: Angry, angry, angry you are. I will help. Let me help. His voice was nonexistent, sounding like the breathy wind itself, and yet without even seeing his lips move to form the words that he repeated, Quiet knew that those words were what he was saying. And it scared her.
The longer that the ominous wolf hung around in her mind, the more frustrated she grew. No one would try and listen, try and read her lips or watch her motions to try and decipher what she was saying. Not even her own mother. Her perfect cousins, Elegant and Grace, barely acknowledged her existence, much less wanted to sit while she flailed around and tried to mouth the words of her anxiety. The black wolf was the only one who listened, the only one who was willing to wait patiently as she worked out how to mouth the words properly so that others could understand. And he had the very same problem, lacking a voice so instead needing to speak entirely through body language. It was hard to think about anything other than her mysterious acquaintance. She knew that it was wrong to speak with him, to seek him out when she went on a walk through the woods. And yet… although she knew that it was wrong, it felt so, so right.