Feral Toki

Rating: PG
Category: AU-ish
Pairing(s): Toki/Skwisgaar
Warnings: Brain tanning.
Summary: Toki is lost in the woods.
Notes: A short birthday crack!fic for feraltoki. Who else?

“Dat’s brutal,” said Toki morosely as he watched the small aircraft burn.

Toki looked around at the place in which he now found himself. He was in the middle of a small meadow, surrounded by trees. Once perhaps it had been a lake, because it seemed to have been scooped out of the earth, and was surrounded on three sides by low embankments. A little stream ran through the small snowy space, choked with winter snow. The whole area was white with a thick layer of the stuff, and more was falling. The wind was picking up.

The day had started off well enough. He had been invited to see where the few remaining Scandinavian wolves lived, thriving in a managed area. Toki liked wolves, and had been delighted to be informed by a group of conservationists that they were naming one of the rare animals after him. He had been less thrilled to find out it was a female wolf, and was pleased even less when Skwisgaar dubbed him the ‘pack bitch’, but it was still cool. He met up with the pilot of the bush plane that would take him to the remote, protected region, where Toki would be able to see his wolf. It was going to be a great day.

Then his pilot had a heart attack and they crashed. Not cool, not fun, and, with night falling and a storm brewing, not good. Toki looked around, assessing his situation. Being alone in the middle of nowhere wasn’t fun, but at least he’d done it before. He had been raised in an abandoned village in a remote region, and he knew that first and foremost he needed shelter. The wrecked plane could provide materials, but was too broken up to do much good as a refuge from the wind.

He prowled the area, locating a sort of shallow den some animal had begun to scratch out of the embankment before changing its mind. Using a piece of tail rudder, Toki dug it deeper and wider, the soft earth scraping out easily. Then he forced in a piece of curved metal that used to be part of the aircraft’s nose into the hollow to act as a support to keep the dirt from collapsing. For a floor he shoved in another piece of wreckage, then he tore the padding off the seats to line the bottom of the den. A search of the debris produced a survival pack and blankets, as well as other things the pilot had stowed in his plane in the event of such an emergency. He was rather past needing them, but Toki very much appreciated the flashlight, small propane stove, matches and other little gifts that he knew would save his life. There was no room in his den for anything other than himself, so he carefully stashed them near his hole under a bit of wreckage where he could find them again, then dove for shelter, forcing a piece of aircraft into the opening to block most of the freezing wind.

Toki had spent more comfortable nights, but he survived. That was all he had to do.

By morning the snow was still falling heavily, but the worst of the storm had passed, and Toki made full use of the short day. He did further work on his den, making it larger, more habitable and secure, beating scraps of metal into place with the flat side of a small axe found in his survival pack so that it was cleaner and safer. He rearranged the foam padding to make sure the entire floor was covered, then went inside to get himself set up. He hung the flashlight from the ceiling of his little den so he could have light, then brought in the things most essential to his survival. The rest he could hide in a small storage area he had rigged up. The den was large enough to enable him to sit up and lie down, but it was still quite small. It had to be in order to conserve warmth. The larger the space, the harder to heat.

He had flares, but he suspected they would be of little use; no one would be looking for him in this remote location, not in this weather. He was on his own until the snow and storms let up, and by then the wreckage would be buried so deeply there would be no trace of it. The only intelligent thing to do was wait until the weather cleared, the snows melted, and he could hike out.

Assuming he lived, that is.

***---***

After two weeks the rations ran out, and Toki Wartooth, like the wolves that inhabited the area, was out hunting. He was already much leaner than he had been when his plane crashed, and far less choosy about his dinner menu. He had a good idea of what was edible; it was simply a matter of finding it and then not losing it to somebody tougher. There were wolverines and lynx in the area as well as wolves, and he hardly fit into their category of predator. It was one thing to charm Nathan or Skwisgaar out of the last Popsicle, but he doubted very much a starving wolverine would be inclined to share.

As the days passed, he grew lean and shaggy in the winter forest, scouring the area for anything remotely edible. Things he had turned his nose up at before he now gulped down without a thought. He dug and chopped his way through fallen logs, finding small creatures. No vole was safe. At first he simply didn’t have the heart to eat the terrified little things, but as he grew leaner and hungrier he had taken to eating them the way the wolves did; head first and squeaking. He’d tried skinning them, but the result had been sadly disappointing, and scarcely worth the effort after the bullshit of catching the little buggers. Since voles were an introduced pest not native to Norway, the conservationists who had invited him up in the first place would have applauded his efforts, but they were not there. No one was. As he had suspected, the area was simply too remote, and the weather too unpredictable for large-scale search efforts. As the weeks went on, he could tell that he was simply not eating enough to maintain his own existence. He was exerting too much effort for too little reward, and he was slowly starving to death.

***---***

He heard the deer before he saw it; crying out pitifully, separated from its herd because of a leg injury. She was stumbling through the snow, limping heavily, and likely already being tracked by something. Mere weeks ago Toki would have felt an enormous amount of sympathy for her, but starved, ragged and cold, she now represented warmth and the first sizeable meal he’d had in months. But he still had to catch her, and despite being injured she was not quite ready to give up. Blue eyes cold and focused, armed with his hand axe and boot knife, Toki began prowling after the ailing reindeer.

She eyed him warily as he circled, trying to find his way past her antlers. Toki still recalled rolling his eyes and informing Pickles, Nathan and Murderface while watching a Christmas special last year that everyone knew only female reindeer had antlers in winter. It had been an amusing little detail at the time, but now it was a serious issue. She had a mighty rack of bone that could kill him, and all he had was a knife and a hand axe. They had worked wonders on the one bunny he managed to corner, but… this was no bunny. It was two hundred pounds of pissed-off Rudolph.

He stalked her, looking for an advantage. Suddenly she decided to run, but with a damaged leg and deep snow, she only managed to stumble forward. Before he even knew what he was about to do, he lunged forward, leaping onto her back and driving his knife into her throat. Then, before she could retaliate, he managed to get out of range of her antlers, but it was only a matter of time now. She was bleeding heavily. Toki trailed after her, herding her in the direction of his den until she collapsed.

He wasted no time; the smell of blood would bring every carnivore in the area and he knew it. He deftly skinned her up to the base of the skull, then chopped her head off, leaving the pelt attached, saving the formidable antlers. He stabbed his knife into her side, cutting through flesh, dragging the blade from one side of her spine and around her belly to the other, cutting her in half, avoiding the entrails. He then used his axe to chop through her spinal column, taking her back end, hauling out the entrails from the abdominal cavity. He could not afford the luxury of neatness; he had to take what he needed and get out of there. He had to move fast, and he could not afford to be weighed down, thus leaving the front end which had much less meat to the predators. Before he abandoned his kill, he dragged out her heart, still hot, and cut it in half to let most of the blood drain out. He then gulped it down in chunks before gathering up his fur and meat and fleeing just as the wolves came out of the forest to feast. They briefly considered chasing him, but quickly gave up on the thought, focusing on the carcass instead.

He made it back to his den. It was getting dark. Burying his prize in the snow was easier, but he knew it would be quickly be found and taken. Instead he bundled it into an emergency blanket, tied it closed like a sack, and hung it from a tree branch out of the reach of hungry animals. Soaked in reindeer blood, Toki decided to use some of his precious propane and heat just enough water to clean the blood off his shirt, using it as a wash cloth before rinsing it out. Full for the first time in weeks, he curled up in his little home and fell asleep.

***---***

Brain tanning, oh joy. Toki recalled this bit all right; he’d done it often enough. Clothes were fine for taking a boy into the city or sending him to school, but for much of his childhood he’d gone around dressed in pelts. His parents had not wanted him spoiled by luxury. Well it had been a pain in the butt then, but it was coming in handy now.

Oh god he hated tanning. Well nothing to do but get the task over with. After cleaning and scraping the hide came the distasteful task of digging the brain out of his reindeer head. He warmed it in his one little pot, careful not to cook it, and set about chopping and mashing it as finely as he could, finally sticking his hands into the disgusting mire and crushing it into a paste. He then smeared the pelt with the goo, working it into the flesh before leaving the pelt to cure for a couple days. He then scraped the matter off and built a fire, warming the hide to dry the pelt until it was just damp enough to be pliable. He worked the hide, pulling and scraping it until it was dry, finally smoking it over the fire to further cure the hide and make it water resistant. He worked it a little more to make it soft, then used the sewing skills his mama taught him to turn the hide into a vest. When all was said and done, he and his new fashion accessory didn’t smell like roses, but it was another layer of badly-needed warmth.

He was beginning to think he might just survive this whole ordeal.

He picked up the reindeer head. He had removed the jaw and lower half of the skull to access the brain, leaving the upper portion with the fur and antlers still attached. It would make a serviceable hood, but it would need to be cleaned, and, of course, tanned. Toki sighed and picked up his axe, then began wandering towards an area where he had seen rabbits, legs stiff, arms extended, droning in a raspy voice; “Braaaiiinnnssss….”

***---***

He sat before his den, wearing his vest under his coat, the ‘hood’ making him look like some stray forest god, no longer worshiped. His blue eyes peered through the same holes the deer’s once hand, the antlers raising high over his head, her neck fur warming his skin. He was cooking some of his reindeer meat, watching the full moon hang frozen cold and silver blue over the trees, turning the trickle of water that still managed to flow in its bed to a thin sliver of mercury.

Funny. He hadn’t noticed how beautiful it was here. But now that his existence was, at least for the moment, a little easier, he gazed around, taking in the beauty of the ice hanging from the silent trees, and how the little meadow was covered in a glittering blanket. The stars were clear and sparkling, looking close enough to touch, and the moon was wrapped in a great blue halo. Toki finished his meal, then for no reason other than he felt like it, he sang. Not the brutal songs of his band, or the Christian ones his father made him learn, but the Old Songs, the lays and ballads of another century. For the first time in his life, Toki felt like something greater than what he was.

***---***

The snow was gone, the meadow was in flower, and it was time to go. Toki used his remaining meagre resources to clean himself up in preparation for re-entering civilization. He heated some water to give himself a washing and shave, pleased at the reappearance of his ‘otter whiskers’ as Skwisgaar called them. ‘Little otter face’ was a nickname only Toki heard; Skwisgaar never used it anywhere others could hear. His hair was a lengthy snarled tangle, but until he could get to a brush it would have to stay; he just glad the pilot had a new toothbrush in the survival kit. Toki selected an outfit he had purposely left untouched for just this day, so that when he stepped out of the woods he… well… did not look as if he had just stepped out of the woods. He sorted what he needed and what he did not, placing what he was not taking in his den and closing the little door for the last time. Then he put on his vest, jacket, and ‘hood’, and with a map and his few possessions, proceeded to hike out of the wilderness. By now Toki Wartooth had been missing five months in one of the most remote parts of Norway. He was thin and rangy and did not much resemble himself anymore, looking more like a feral being than anything, and in some ways he was. But he was ready to come back to his own home, with his own bed. Looking like some lost spirit from a distant age, Toki loped through the woods towards civilization.

***---***

He made his way to a village, and from there caught rides with various people, making his way eventually to Oslo, and the small brooding castle-like structure just outside the city that Dethklok called home when in Norway. The roadies and snipers watched with curiosity as something that looked like the offspring of a rock star and a reindeer deftly pressed the nine digit code to open the front gate, but let him be, assuming he was a friend of the band.

Unchallenged and unrecognized, Toki made his way into the stone structure, then paused, sniffing the air. Roast beef. Someone was making supper in the main kitchen. Salivating like a wild dog, the scruffy figure lit out for the dining room, reaching it just as the server was laying dinner out on the table. He pounced onto the table and on the large succulent roast, lowering his head to rip off chunks of flesh and choke them down, hardly bothering to chew. It was Murderface who first spoke.

“There’sh a reindeer eating our dinner.”

“Dood it’s not a reindeer,” said Pickles. “I’m… not really sure what it is.” There was a pause, then Pickles asked sharply in an annoyed tone, “Who and what the hell are you?”

Toki seized a pitcher of water and drank the better part of it, finally picking up a napkin to wipe the mess off his face. Slowly he realized where he was and who he was looking at, and that with the better part of his face hidden they did not recognize him. Slowly he pushed the deer head back so they could see his face.

“Hi Nat’an,” he said quietly.

“No fucking way,” said Nathan, his green eyes enormous. “Toki we thought you were fucking dead!”

“Why you heres den if you t’inking I dead?”

“Dood Skwisgaar wouldn’t let us leave!” said Pickles. “He wouldn’t leave Norway, he wouldn’t let us throw a funeral… he wouldn’t even let Ahfdensen cancel your credit cards. He’s been making us nuts!”

“Yeah he wouldn’t even let ush replashe you,” said Murderface.

“Where the hell have you been for five months?” said Nathan.

“Livings in hole in an embanksment eatings voles. Didn’t even gets to see my woof.”

“Wolf,” said Nathan.

“Dat’s whats I said. Woof.”

“No ‘woof’ is the noise they make. You know what? Forget it.”

Nathan stood up and walked over to him, picking Toki up antlers and all and holding him close, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was crying on him. Toki returned the embrace, closing his eyes, breaking down himself as it began to sink in that he really was finally home, safe with his family. Then Pickles came over to join the hug. Eventually, Murderface came over as well, muttering something about it all being gay.

“Missed all you guys so bads,” Toki said softly.

Someone must have told Skwisgaar what was happening, because they heard him well before they saw him; the sound of his boots striking the stone floor echoed down the hallway as he ran for the chamber, skidding as he rounded the corner and tore into the room. He dragged Toki away from Nathan, pulling him close, weeping on him.

“Toki…”

“Is okies Skwisgaar, I’s here.”

“Don’t you ever scares us likes dat again! Goings intos god-know-wheres to looks ats da woofs. You wants to sees woofs I takes you to zoo!”

“I sorry Skwisgaar, I nots scares you likes dat again.”

“Betters not. Runnings off, gettings lost, comings back lookings like Loki on a bender.”

“I be goods.”

They held each other tightly, nuzzling one another, assuring themselves they were really together once more. Quietly Nathan, Pickles and Murderface left, leaving then in peace. Skwisgaar gently bit Toki’s lip, then kissed him.

“Missed you, little otter-face.”

“Missed you too.”

Skwisgaar smiled, and nuzzled him. “Wants to go to our room and dos you-know-whats?”

“I been wantings to do dat five months.”

“Come on, den. Oh, Toki?”

“Ja Skwisgaar?”

The tall blonde waggled his eyebrows at him, then whispered into his ear; “Leaves da antlers on.”