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There was a fire in the backwoods. It flit from one point to the next in leaps and bounds; the snow hardly stopped it, save for the occasional gulley. Even within the tenebrous thicket, where not even the stars would breach the dismal sheet of ambiguous cloud-cover above, the cinder found her way.
It seemed fitting that someone so irascible would be welcomed to this place, this newness, by the nothingness of winter. The thick silence of it.
The witching hour came and went; the clouds drifted by sluggishly, contemptuously, as if eager to try and douse the flame they spied from their heavenly perch with wave after wave of sleet.
When the flame stopped its roaming, it sat like a tiny ember at the foot of a disintegrating copse of birch trees. They were like match-sticks, barely able to handle the beating of the wind or the frigidity of the season. At their ruined base, where the snow had been driven in to a great aggregation of nearly impenetrable slag, the woman sat and waited.
She coiled herself as tightly as her limber body could manage, pulled her tail across her snout, and stared out through the night — bright eyes narrowed to blazing slits of molten gold despite the incessant gloom.
But she would not sleep. She would only wait, and watch, until the storm exhausted itself and she could be on the march once again.
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There was a fire in the backwoods. It flit from one point to the next in leaps and bounds; the snow hardly stopped it, save for the occasional gulley. Even within the tenebrous thicket, where not even the stars would breach the dismal sheet of ambiguous cloud-cover above, the cinder found her way.
It seemed fitting that someone so irascible would be welcomed to this place, this newness, by the nothingness of winter. The thick silence of it.
The witching hour came and went; the clouds drifted by sluggishly, contemptuously, as if eager to try and douse the flame they spied from their heavenly perch with wave after wave of sleet.
When the flame stopped its roaming, it sat like a tiny ember at the foot of a disintegrating copse of birch trees. They were like match-sticks, barely able to handle the beating of the wind or the frigidity of the season. At their ruined base, where the snow had been driven in to a great aggregation of nearly impenetrable slag, the woman sat and waited.
She coiled herself as tightly as her limber body could manage, pulled her tail across her snout, and stared out through the night — bright eyes narrowed to blazing slits of molten gold despite the incessant gloom.
But she would not sleep. She would only wait, and watch, until the storm exhausted itself and she could be on the march once again.
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February 04, 2017, 02:10 PM
After the first moment of exhilaration for being still alive after the storm had waned, Birk had turned to more practical matters. Such as dealing with hunger. And though tough and with an ability to endure long periods without food, he still preferred to look for edible stuff rather than telling his mind and stomach stories about "there is always tomorrow".
And in his search he left the thicket that had served as a shelter from the storm and wandered further down in the terra incognita. With all the snow that at some places was up to his chest (and he was not a small wolf) and the fact that smells were harder to track here, he considered himself quite lucky, when he found a frozen, meagre carcass of a crow. Too much feathers and a bit crunchy for his taste, but otherwise it had served it's purpose well.
For time being he would not be too hungry, but, while still in the mood of exploring, Birk wandered further and further, until he caught a faint scent of someone near and - to be more exact - someone very much alive. "Oooooh... this will be exciting," he said to himself, then intensifying his efforts at locating this living thing. If it was not someone to talk to, it could be edible at least...
ooc: for timeline purposes set a day after the massive storm. If you need any adjustments made - PM me! :)
And in his search he left the thicket that had served as a shelter from the storm and wandered further down in the terra incognita. With all the snow that at some places was up to his chest (and he was not a small wolf) and the fact that smells were harder to track here, he considered himself quite lucky, when he found a frozen, meagre carcass of a crow. Too much feathers and a bit crunchy for his taste, but otherwise it had served it's purpose well.
For time being he would not be too hungry, but, while still in the mood of exploring, Birk wandered further and further, until he caught a faint scent of someone near and - to be more exact - someone very much alive. "Oooooh... this will be exciting," he said to himself, then intensifying his efforts at locating this living thing. If it was not someone to talk to, it could be edible at least...
ooc: for timeline purposes set a day after the massive storm. If you need any adjustments made - PM me! :)
February 06, 2017, 07:20 PM
(This post was last modified: February 06, 2017, 07:20 PM by Nootka.)
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By the time the weather's rage was quelled, the flame had been doused. A blanket of white had fallen across the woman's coiled form and hid her from the world. She was insulated. Only her nose indicated where she lay — sticking out like a pebble in the dark.
Once rested the ember would emerge again and flicker between the trees; perhaps she would ignite them? Make the world easier to traverse - stain the sky dark rather than white, remove the forest which impeded her efforts.
— No, that'd be wrong.
She did hear a crunch in the snow and lifted her head free - her face dusted with powder - thinking it were perhaps a bough bending under the weight of too much snow. It was perfectly timed; a stranger stood nearby with a trail of crow feathers littering the area around their feet.
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By the time the weather's rage was quelled, the flame had been doused. A blanket of white had fallen across the woman's coiled form and hid her from the world. She was insulated. Only her nose indicated where she lay — sticking out like a pebble in the dark.
Once rested the ember would emerge again and flicker between the trees; perhaps she would ignite them? Make the world easier to traverse - stain the sky dark rather than white, remove the forest which impeded her efforts.
— No, that'd be wrong.
She did hear a crunch in the snow and lifted her head free - her face dusted with powder - thinking it were perhaps a bough bending under the weight of too much snow. It was perfectly timed; a stranger stood nearby with a trail of crow feathers littering the area around their feet.
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February 07, 2017, 02:21 PM
Apparently, whoever Birk had set out to eat, had been closer than he head imagined. Because, when the wolf in question lifted it's head, revealing it's hiding place, the young wolf made a jump and let out an un-manly "EEEP!"
It took a little while for him to recover from the initial shock, but, once he did, he dared to come closer with a cheerful expression and friendly, wagging tail. "Hey there!" he greeted the wolf. "Who may you be and how do you do?"
It took a little while for him to recover from the initial shock, but, once he did, he dared to come closer with a cheerful expression and friendly, wagging tail. "Hey there!" he greeted the wolf. "Who may you be and how do you do?"
February 08, 2017, 09:13 PM
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He was a curious thing. A chatterbox, enigmatic where she was frigid. Cream-coated and yet, something seemed off about him in a way that made her nervous. Had he thanked the crow for giving its life? Would he scatter the feathers in ceremony, or leave for the wind to play with? Her eyes narrowed and briefly Nootka looked annoyed; but she lifted free of her bed after a moment and with a confident shake, removed her skepticism with the snow.
After speaking, her immutable gaze swept across the snow as if to regard the discarded feathers, but she did not remark upon them, and then settled her attention back upon the boy, as if juding him. Maybe she was.
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He was a curious thing. A chatterbox, enigmatic where she was frigid. Cream-coated and yet, something seemed off about him in a way that made her nervous. Had he thanked the crow for giving its life? Would he scatter the feathers in ceremony, or leave for the wind to play with? Her eyes narrowed and briefly Nootka looked annoyed; but she lifted free of her bed after a moment and with a confident shake, removed her skepticism with the snow.
Nootka.She answered flatly. It would be difficult to discern whether she was answering his question or presenting a name if he did not know the language; judging by his flowing use of the common tongue, the woman presumed she would have to choose her words carefully.
After speaking, her immutable gaze swept across the snow as if to regard the discarded feathers, but she did not remark upon them, and then settled her attention back upon the boy, as if juding him. Maybe she was.
You are loud, like a spring boar digging for dinner.It wasn't an answer to his question — rather, an observation she felt compelled to make. Nootka licked snow off of her lips afterwards and gave a soft snort, and sank back upon her haunches within the shadows.
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"Boars are pretty impressive things, therefore I will take this as a compliment," Birk replied, having seen the beasts only once during the time he had spent walking the long distance from his former home to - well - here. And though he realized that the other wolf's comment had not been meant that way, he found that sometimes it was easier to play fool rather than admit that you felt insulted.
"So, Nootka - what brings you here?" he went on, since the other one had not offered anything substantial to build the rest of the conversation on. "Are you on your own or a part of a fancy pack?" He talked with the stranger for a little longer, before they parted their ways never to see each other again.
"So, Nootka - what brings you here?" he went on, since the other one had not offered anything substantial to build the rest of the conversation on. "Are you on your own or a part of a fancy pack?" He talked with the stranger for a little longer, before they parted their ways never to see each other again.
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