( written for the october cdc prompt of "hay" !! )

To an outsider, it might've seemed like Wormwood spent a huge amount of time fighting, or training to fight, but in reality he didn't actually enjoy fighting that much. Sure, he knew that knowing how to fight effectively was a useful skill, and he would be eternally grateful to his father for that being one of the only things that he did right for his son, but beyond that he didn't think much of it. He didn't get the insane thrill from it that it seemed most of the Pittians did, and it wasn't as if he usually had the goal of killing others when he was fighting. After all, he hadn't even really fatally wounded anybody until Roman, and he hadn't even been the one to do the finishing blow in that case. Rather, he used fighting as a method to protect himself and others, something he hoped that his fellow Tanglers also understood and did, but something that it also seemed most people were forgetting these days, instead choosing to fight for the thrill of it, or because they thought they could impress others. Just the thought of it, and how it made him sigh, made him feel like he was somehow an old man in that sense, which was pretty funny considering that Wormwood was still considered pretty much just a young adult lion, and far from ancient. Still, the point to be made was that Worm actually didn't care for fighting that much.

Now, some might not have believed that when they came across Wormwood, sitting just a bit away from the main town against a tree, struggling with his paws and jaws to stuff hay inside of fabric to create "training dummies" that they could use for practice at some point. However, he wasn't doing it because he was excited for more fighting, or for more fighting training. But these days he could always feel the faint prick of danger beneath his skin, with every hour that Jervis remained as the head of the Pitt, a constant looming threat of what his desert dwelling group could do. Moth's almost kidnapping was still fresh on his mind, and just thinking of it, and thinking of the sight of Moth's injured and limp body... it made him shove some of the hay in more forcefully, a soft grunt of anger leaving him as the fabric he was using fought against him. It was almost as if he were making a scarecrow, given how similar the dummies looked, but it was pretty clear from the sloppily written on red x's, written in red paint that Worm had swiped from Feza, they weren't meant to be friendly scarecrows meant to defend crops.

The scent of hay slowly permeated the air around him, and as he continued his brain numbing task, he found himself being whisked away, back to a time when things had been much more simple, and fighting had been one of the last things on his mind. He could remember the little town that had stood outside of the pride's city, one of the many strongholds that the hyenas had held before their father had taken it over for them, making it into an extension of their large territory. The little town had been mostly farmland, full of many different tall crops and scarecrows, along with farm animals that had long since either migrated away from the area, or formed their own little societies amongst themselves. Worm had always loved hanging out in the town as a cub, even though the scent of hay and fertilizer and everything else that had been involved in making the farm area profitable back in the day had been ever present and sometimes even suffocating. It didn't matter to him, because the place represented an escape from the constant criticism that he faced constantly back in the huge towering city that his parents called home. Nowadays he wasn't really sure if he had ever really considered the coty a true home, but back then he hadn't questioned it, figuring the reason that he felt so much happier among the farmlands was just because it was something new and different.

Of course, not everything about the farmlands had been sunshine and rainbows, especially considering that there had been where Poet had gotten injured one day by a still hiding hyena within the place – something that he had been forced to relive even more gruesomely in one of his recent dreams – but still, it had been a safe haven for him. Besides, even after Poet had gotten injured, they had continued returning to the place, playing hide and seek in the tall lines of crops, and just sitting watching the sun rise on the top of one of the barns. The thought almost brought a smile to his muzzle as he worked, but then he remember how, as time went on, Poet's appearances at the farmland and had become fewer and fewer, and over time it had eventually become just Worm laying there alone, staring out at the sunset and wallowing in his own loneliness and jealousy. He knew it was petty, but he couldn't help but think that Poet had ended up ruining the farmland eventually for him as well, as be had done with so many other things that Worm had cared about in the past.

A soft huff left the lion's nose as he shook his head to clear his own rapidly degrading thoughts, his shoving in of hay into the dummies having gotten so erratic that some of them were bursting awkwardly at the seams, liable to just explode if they were attacked. Eying them for a moment, Wormwood eventually just groaned loudly, letting himself fall back onto his spine and staring up into the blue sky, surrounded by half finished hay dummies and cursing his missing brother, "Fucking Poet."

Nord was the first to approach the sorry scene of Wormwood flipped down on his back, his wings pinned beneath him and a halo of poor overstuffed dummies laying around him, practically begging him to stop shoving hay into them, though not with any sort of words. Worm hadn't exactly gotten to know Nkrd yet, andnin fact had yet to hear the kid actually speak at all, but that didn't mean he would reject the company. After all, it would get his mind off of his swirling memories of the pride, and the soft simmering anger in his chest over his past with Poet. When he heard Nord's soft whining, the canine lowering himself down to the earth beneath him, Wormwood tilted his head to just take in the younger male for a moment before chuckling softly, feeling a bit bad for evidently causing Nord some kind of worry. At least, that's all that he could assume he had done, given the whining and the body language. Still, Worm had never been the best at picking up on unsaid cues, so he could've been wrong as well. Nonetheless, he still slowly pulled himself into a sitting up position, stretching his bright red and gold wings out behind him and faintly shaking off some of the pieces of hay that were still clinging stubbornly to his feathers.

The chaser, once he was satisfied that he had swatted away the last of the hay he had let decorate him, turned his attention back to Nord, offering the male a soft smile and a flick of his long tail in greeting to the newer member. He wasn't sure if Nord would actually understand his words, but at the very least he would hopefully understand that. Glancing at one of the bursting at the seams dummies that surrounded him, Worm sighed and rumbled as he prodded at one of them, wincing when it immediately began to fall apart, finally breaking the carefully woven fabric with the slightest bit of pressure applied, "I guess I went a little bit overboard with these ones, huh...? I kinda got caught up in my own thoughts, and started shoving hay in there wildly... that was pretty stupid of me." He chuckled dryly, although there was a warm smile on his face, the last shards of his farmland memories clinging to his mind only because of the still strongly present scent of hay. Otherwise, his attention was now once again firmly in the moment, focused on the enigma in front of him that had been going by the name Nord. Wormwood rumbled as he lowered one of his crimson wings, teasingly batting Nord on the head with the edges of some of his feathers, hardly more than the faintest kiss of a touch upon the cabinet's little floppy ears, something that Worm honestly found adorable, "Are you alright? I didn't mean to spook you, if I did. I promise I'm alright now... although I'm a little upset with myself that I'll have to redo all of these dummies." He still wasn't sure if Nord could actually understand him, but he didn't want them to just sit in silence just because he wasn't sure.

The next one to arrived on the scene was Feza, who seemed just as confused by the scene as Nord had been, but for different reasons entirely. When she implied that he was trying to make a crowd for a party, his ears at first pinned back in displeasure, insulted by the fact that she would think such a thing, and then his eyes softened – out of pity. It was pretty obvious from how she followed it up that she had done that very thing before with her own materials, and that was probably part of the reason why she viewed boxes in such a fanatical light. Honestly, Worm was beginning to think that she wasn't the most mentally stable animal in the world. Well, of course she wasn't, she had proved that time and time again, but now he was beginning to question if there was some deeper seated issues there. Still, even if there were, it wasn't as if he could do anything about it. He had his own issues to deal with, and he certainly wasn't a qualified therapist, not that anyone in the group was. Moth had tried that group therapy session at her house at one point, but it hadn't really amounted to much, and had mostly just ended up causing chaos, or with everyone leaving before anything useful was said. Just the thought of it made him sigh, and he grumbled as he nudged one of the dummies, shaking his head at Feza'a ridiculous suggestion, "They aren't supposed to be party guests, Feza. If you haven't noticed by now, I'm not exactly a party person unless it's someone else dealing with the throwing of it." He didn't mean her, of course, but there were other parties he had enjoyed. Like the nice calm bonfire that Leroy had hosted. That had been nice... it had also been before shit hit the fan.

He noticed the twitchy way that Feza stammered and stumbled her way through her speech, and he wasn't sure if it was because of his presence, or just because she was degrading so much lately. He felt bad about not noticing sooner, but he had been pretty preoccupied with his own troubles, and the recent kidnapping of Roy had pretty much been dominating his thoughts lately, so he hadn't exactly had time for worrying about brightly colored snow leopards and their deteriorating mental health. Not wanting things to go downhill even more, or for her to continue with her awkward jerky words, he cut her off, rumbling as he sank his claws into one of the dummies and shook his around, wrinkling his nose when the creation spewed out bits of hay, "They're training dummies. You know, for fighting? They're to practice on so that you don't have to hurt anybody while practicing fighting moves. It's simpler than hosting a spar again, since most of the people around here are either injured or too small for me to fight fairly with them, and I still need to get used to fighting with one eye." He pointed a claw towards his one good eye, as if demonstrating his own words.

Suvi... Kiira, the name he knew her best by, was the next soul to arrive at the scene, her small form padding over silently. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, shyness and worry clear in her multicolored gaze, before she made the rest of the trek forward. Wormwood felt the faintest of frowns tugging at his muzzle as she approached, knowing full well that even though it seemed in Kiira's name to be nervous and just the slightest bit shy, he had definitely added onto her hesitation with the whole Roman incident. Part of him wanted to explain that he hadn't been entirely in control of himself, motivated by anger that was being stoked by the hellhound form he had at the time, but he also didn't want it to seem like he was making excuses for the horrible injuries that he had inflicted upon the Pittian. He still wasn't sure that he entirely regretted his actions, especially considering that the Pitt had now captured his son, but he could at least say that he regretted doing it in front of others. He was lucky that Moth hadn't been conscious to realize what he had done, but Kiira certainly had been awake, both for his injuries, and for the final brutal blow inflicted by Beck. Worm could certainly understand the fear that held her back for a moment, and he felt himself glancing shamefully away for a moment, his large paws shifting on top of one of the overstuffed dummies.

When Kiira mentioned that she didn't think the dummies looked that bad, he blinked at her and bit down on the inside of his cheek before rumbling softly as he looked down at them, "They're not in the worst state that they could be in, but I still need to restuff them. Like this, when I attack them, they'll just kind of explode into hay, and that won't be very good for practicing anything." He chuckled a bit, offering Kiira a small smile before beginning to undo the twine holding together one of the overstuffed dummies, watching as it gradually fell apart, hay falling out onto the ground around it. He then said as he shifted his wings upon his back, stretching out a bit before pulling another dummy over to undo it, "It isn't that bad though. It shouldn't take me too long to redo these, and it's not like I wanted to fight today. I just wanted you have them prepared so that I could get in a bit of training before the next time we take on the Pitt." He winced a bit as he mentioned the Pitt, realizing that might upset Kiira a bit, but then shook it off. After all, it wasn't as if Kiira could just completely ignore the presence of the Pitt right now, especially considering that they were public enemy number one to pretty much every group except for themselves at the moment.