Not sure where in the Dozzle timeline this takes place!
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Any exploration deeper inland on Szymon’s behalf tended to be out of necessity — not wanderlust. Today was no different. He was a creature of habit whose machinations were generally predictable to the point of being boring, and when he got done refreshing the territory borders with rubbings of fur, spatterings of urine, and rime-slick smears of fresh blood from a recent kill, he circled southeast as he always did — huffed discontentedly at the screeching of the gyrfalcons as he always did — turned his back on them with an irritated flicker of his tattered ears as he always did — wait a minute. Why are they so quiet?
Muscle memory had begged the tightening of Szymon’s muscles and the automatic, annoyed flattening of his ears, but with a quizzical furrow of his brow he realized that there wasn’t any screeching going on.
Something was different here — and Szymon Cairn didn’t like different.
The temperature had dropped alarmingly after the Donnelaith fires, as if that wasn’t enough to deal with alone, and an ice storm had turned the world into a virtual ice skating rink a few weeks later. The wolves of the bay didn’t have to worry about it quite as much, for the abundance of salt had done wonders for breaking up the slick rime that had tried its damnedest to settle — at least when it came to the sandy areas. The utter silence, though, was new. Cautiously the black-banded Leviathan traipsed nearer to the rocky hillock, and as he began to climb he became aware of a tensile disquiet in the earth beneath his feet. Decisively he turned, deciding at once to get the hell off the ride he’d unwittingly stumbled upon — but it was all for naught.
A good portion of the ground Szymon stood upon broke away from its mother cliff, cracking like a hollow gourd and taking him with it. A strangled yelp, automatic and not precisely out of overt pain, withered in his throat as he careened down with it. The ice had weighed the mountainside down, finding its way into a fissure that might have gone unnoticed otherwise — at least until the spring rains weakened the edges of the stone. Dragging himself out of the rubble, he limped a few meters away, moving his limbs gingerly until he was certain everything was in working order. It was then that he noticed what the rockslide had engendered: an opening in the hillside itself that gave way to a subterranean forest of sorts.
A warm subterranean forest.
“Doe!” he howled, butchering her name for him to capture her attention. “Ki-kayi-ki-ka-kayi!”
[/td][/tr][/table]Muscle memory had begged the tightening of Szymon’s muscles and the automatic, annoyed flattening of his ears, but with a quizzical furrow of his brow he realized that there wasn’t any screeching going on.
Something was different here — and Szymon Cairn didn’t like different.
The temperature had dropped alarmingly after the Donnelaith fires, as if that wasn’t enough to deal with alone, and an ice storm had turned the world into a virtual ice skating rink a few weeks later. The wolves of the bay didn’t have to worry about it quite as much, for the abundance of salt had done wonders for breaking up the slick rime that had tried its damnedest to settle — at least when it came to the sandy areas. The utter silence, though, was new. Cautiously the black-banded Leviathan traipsed nearer to the rocky hillock, and as he began to climb he became aware of a tensile disquiet in the earth beneath his feet. Decisively he turned, deciding at once to get the hell off the ride he’d unwittingly stumbled upon — but it was all for naught.
A good portion of the ground Szymon stood upon broke away from its mother cliff, cracking like a hollow gourd and taking him with it. A strangled yelp, automatic and not precisely out of overt pain, withered in his throat as he careened down with it. The ice had weighed the mountainside down, finding its way into a fissure that might have gone unnoticed otherwise — at least until the spring rains weakened the edges of the stone. Dragging himself out of the rubble, he limped a few meters away, moving his limbs gingerly until he was certain everything was in working order. It was then that he noticed what the rockslide had engendered: an opening in the hillside itself that gave way to a subterranean forest of sorts.
A warm subterranean forest.
“Doe!” he howled, butchering her name for him to capture her attention. “Ki-kayi-ki-ka-kayi!”
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Messages In This Thread
there’s a sky underground - by Szymon - January 23, 2017, 09:17 PM
RE: there’s a sky underground - by Doe - January 23, 2017, 09:40 PM
RE: there’s a sky underground - by Szymon - January 24, 2017, 12:06 AM