Easy
338 Posts
Ooc — Me
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#1
Pump didn't practice planning her life ahead, but if she had, dying would probably have been way down on her list. Yet here she was, lying motionless on the beach, near the water's edge, her body mauled and thrown away like broken and unwanted toy, blood oozing from the wounds tinging the wet sand red and drawing streaks, where it met the sea water. The only markers that told she was still alive, were the uneven and ragged movements of her ribcage and eyes, which stared ahead and blinked time from time.

It hadn't meant to be like this, but the one thing you learn about death over time is that it always comes uninvited. No matter the age everyone has equal chances to die. It had been an evening of a very long and exhausting day. Due to heat Pump had found it hard to keep up with her warden duties and had reluctantly left most of the burden to Ragnar and Verrine to carry. She had spent the majority of her day near denning site, dozing in the shadow and got up only at the sunset to stretch her legs and find something to eat.

All had been rather well and peaceful in the pack. The strangers on the island hadn't bothered them, they had plenty to hunt and eat, Ragnar did his job as their beta very well and the pack was thriving. For the first time in her life she was surrounded by people, who actually liked her and saw her worth. She had found something she had been missing for the most part of her life - friends. Pump had many reasons to be happy and content and more often than not open up to people she met.

She had chosen to walk along the shores that evening, being lost in her thoughts and her guard down, for who would actually endanger her within the boundaries of her home. This assumption turned out to be a fatal mistake. On the other hand there might be such thing as "fate you can't escape" and for her it came in a form of a bear. Pump missed the moment, when it appeared, and therefore was struck down quickly. She tried to put up a fight and escape, but all such effort was in vain, when the beast grabbed her and crushed her spine between it's strong jaws.

From that point on it was easy. The bear picked her up, shook and dragged her along for a while, but for whatever reason he finally lost interest in it's unresponsive victim and left it, disappearing in the nearby forest. Pump didn't feel pain, just the inconvenience of being trapped inside her body, unable to move or speak. She listened to her heart beating hard and fast against her ribcage, as if it was the only part of her that had not yet accepted the idea that this was it, yet after a while it too began to slow down.

Pump could still hear, smell and see a little of everything that was happening around her. Unlike many others she was not afraid to die. Dying was easy, living was hard, but she had enjoyed every single moment of it. Good and bad. The only thing here to regret was that the world would go on even after she wasn't here anymore. One death out of a million wasn't that much in the great scheme of things after all. Eventually everything became still and quiet and with one last deep sigh it was over for her. She greeted Death as an old friend and followed it's steps into the void.
I want the part of you that you refuse to give. *anonymous*
1,280 Posts
Ooc — Danni
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#2
Thistle heard the screams from where she lay in the dark and she woke with a start. Something large was growling and it was near their beach. Her husband was not near her, Probably doing one last patrol before he tucked in to sleep. Looking down at the babies laying near her she didn't even have a moment to think, she was up and out the den mouth as quickly as her legs would allow. She ran as fast as she could to the beach only to find her friends broke and bloodied body. Oh my god. She ran even faster and getting to her side she slid into the sand beside her Oh so much blood there's so much blood. Please hold on Pump Please hold on. She was too worried to even notice that her friend was no longer with them, but she didn't care she let loose a howl of frantic proportions and then whispering a quick I'll be back She ran back towards her den.

@Ragnar, Ragnar! where are you! She was coated in blood and sand, not hers mind but enough that it would worry any who saw her. She frantically began to dig at the outside of the den talking to herself. I need aloe and cobwebs and bergamot lots and lots of cobwebs. There was so much blood so much! Tears were streaming from her eyes as she let loose enough expletives to freeze any who were near her, she couldn't get to the herbs fast enough. Finally, she just collapsed in sobs, to upset to do anything more. Bone wracking heart wrenching sobs.
stones and bones
897 Posts
Ooc — Victoria
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#3
I definitely cried a little reading the post and then writing this. UGH MY FEELS ARE ALL JUST SOBBING RIGHT NOW. ;-; <3 Pump Also Danni I tried to edit my original post to match yours (because i shadow posted you) as best I could so I kind of assumed that maybe she didn't notice him there (from shock and what not) but if you want me to fix it feel free to PM me and I'll gladly do so! :-)

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Life liked to throw curve balls. Some were good and some tried the patience and strength of those left surviving it’s weight. Ragnar had always believed, as did most of his culture, that their lives were Fated. Things did not happen on coincidence, nothing was nearly so chaotic in his line of faith. So when the putrid scent of blood heavy and fatal in the air, something large on the cusp between life and death — a lot of blood — Ragnar did not expect to find what it was he had found when he had woken after Thistle’s cries and followed her to the beach, confused. He had expected a sea lion, perhaps, or a deer a pack-mate had trapped between him/herself and the ocean; but the water ran crimson, the sand stained with the lifeblood of the black shape, horrendously distorted, twisted oddly figure that a neat trail of blood, accompanied by the fading paw marks of something that was too large to be a wolf and for an instant the world around the Viking froze as he tried to make sense of what was folding before his sharp eyes with each step forward; his heart beat growing heavier with each ghostly motion that carried him forth — or rather he tried vehemently to deny what he knew, deep in his heart, in his gut, and in his stomach where it felt like ice had pooled.

Was it wrong to want to believe that what was evident wasn’t so? Was it selfish to want to believe, with a fierceness that tore at his heart with a gut-wrenching force that caused the Northman to stumble pitifully as he approached the broken yet still breathing body of his leader where his wife was babbling begging Pump to hold on. Of his friend that the Gods were wrong? That one could chose their own fate? His heart was heavy, his limps heavy as his breathing made rapid tears from his black, leathery nostrils as he tried for the first time in a very long time not to cry.

Heat had began to creep, unbidden, beneath his eyes, tears pooling along the bottom lid, body shivering from the realization that Pump was dying and that he could do nothing for her. Healing her was useless, he knew, her spine had been severed …there was no fixing it and yet as Thistle pleaded with her Ragnar couldn’t bring himself to bring it to her attention. There was no patching her together in the hopes that she would pull through. There was no pulling through. It was ironic…how many times he had seen and dealt death on the battlefield, on raids, to his own brother and yet here and now the realization that someone dear to him was dying: someone he respected and in a platonic way, even, loved was facing Valhalla. The last time he had felt this way when Eitri had been killed by Björn. Perhaps it was because there was an attachment. Something that tied Ragnar to her and selfishly he did not want to let Odinn take her from them. Thistle had scurried off and Ragnar wondered if his wife had even realized he had been there. “Pump…” He breathed when she sighed her last breath and spoke in a low murmur to his friend’s corpse knowing that she did not follow his faith but needing to do it anyway, knowing that Odinn was there, regardless. “May you find salvation in Valhalla. May you drink and feast and fight and know that one day we will join you there.” He took a ragged breath then, and took a step back realizing that her blood was staining his paws red.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

Yet his own path was abundantly clear to him even if it hurt him to recognize it…that that specific door opened at the death of a dear friend and well respected fellow leader. It was not how he had wanted it. Ragnar understood, however; that life rarely worked how they wanted it. It was Fate. For a long second his eyes closed and drew strength from the unseen but felt presence of Odinn, knowing now that he was to step up to the mantle and that he needed to protect his wolves …his family from the bear. Horizon Ridge was no longer safe because the bear was no longer benevolent. It had slaughtered Pump and he would not allow the same Fate for any of the others. A deep breath was taken, eyes opened, and he threw his head back and let out a mournful howl to reach all of Horizon Ridge.

Informing them of her death. He would allow them to mourn…he needed to mourn but their safety was also a major concern to him now and their lives now solely had passed onto his shoulders; he made his way numbly back to the den where Thistle was babbling about what she would need and slowly he drew nearer until his muzzle touched her head as she broke down and began to sob. It hurt his heart even more to hear Thistle sob as such. “My love,” He spoke his voice thick with his sorrow, accent heavier with the emotions that pushed against him like a tsunami wave within. “She is…she is gone from us. To Valhalla,” It was hard him to speak as a few stray tears slid down his muzzle, staining the fur. “We must return to her body, I will not leave her there for the bear to pick clean.” He held her tighter for a moment before he broke apart and returned to Pump’s broken corpse trying to sort through and tuck his emotions away the best he could. He had a lot to do now and wolves that needed him, needed him to be strong, to lead them. He could mourn in full later when things were sorted, he knew.

<font color="1E90FF">slowly drifting, drifting away;
<br><i>wave after wave,</i>
<br>wave after wave.</font>
64 Posts
Ooc — Ellie
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#4
Surra was dreaming. He still had not found himself a den, and so, he slept in the shadow between a boulder and a tree. He had fallen asleep an hour ago, at most.

His day had been a strange one, in his own personal world at least. He felt detached from the pack. It suddenly came to the young male that he had still, a month after joining Horizon Ridge, not met half the pack. He recognized all their individual smells by now, for sure, but only knew names to half. Some had gone - still others had come. And where was he to meet them? It was as if, he thought to himself, he was only part of this pack in name. He had done his share of hunting, yes, and buried what he had caught in the caches - but all of his hunting, so far, had been done alone. It was as if his travels had not yet ended. He was still so used to being alone that he barely remembered how to be social, to be with others.

Eventually he forced himself to settle down and go to sleep, knowing that it would do him no good to pace the whole night and let his guilty thoughts consume him. And in his dreams the gray-brown wolf felt as if he was mourning - was it for the loss of his independence? Or the loss of knowing how it felt to, for once, not be alone? He felt as if he was howling in his dream, and outwardly he shifted, restless, trying to escape the noise, the mourning, the --

His blue eyes opened, in an uncharacteristic panic. The howl was real. It was Ragnar, he was howling to the pack, mourning... Pump.

Surra scrambled to his feet, still groggy from being asleep, nearly tripping over himself as he took off towards the howl, towards the beach. He stumbled, and growled as a wayward branch scraped against his shoulder, but he kept moving. Still not totally awake, Surra stopped in his tracks as the smell of blood hit him full force - for a split second he was afraid the blood was coming from him, and he glanced at his shoulder, but it was a mere scratch. It couldn't be. Surra leaped forward again. It couldn't be.

He slowed as he came closer to the beach, realizing the truth of what laid ahead of him. Ragnar's howl, mourning for Pump, the smell of blood, so much blood...

Surra's jaw clenched as he stepped out of the trees, and froze as he saw what he expected to see, and worse. Pump's broken, bloodied body in the sand. The smell of bear. Ragnar, seeming to have just returned as well. He could smell another wolf - could it be Ragnar's wife? It smelled of herbs and pups and he recognized it from the last time he had seen Ragnar. She was not there, but surely had been, moments ago. So much ran through the young male's mind. He swallowed back a feeling of nausea - for he had never seen such a brutal death of another wolf, let alone one he knew, and had grown to respect. But, after a single breath, Surra was calm, at least on the surface. He had to be. It was how he faced terrible things. He had to remain calm, now, and then later he could return to his emotions. Slowly, head bowed and ears back in mourning, Surra approached who he knew was the leader now. "Ragnar. How can I help?"
169 Posts
Ooc — Kris
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#5

Nerian stayed away from the scene to many wolves were all ready there, going over to the body now would not help; She had not been able to get to pump to perform a Viaticum before the alpha drew her last breath. Her soul would linger for a while perhaps watch her oak Nerian would have to perform her own rites, but not here. Not in front of these other wolves.

She titled her head toward the heavens began her mournful ritual from afar, She sang a song to the heavens begging for them to open and allow pump to come into the grace of light. She sang long and loud, yet her tones were rich and beautiful, long were they practiced for this task and though unused in more recent times; it's clarity would not go unheard.

Unending her howl; with no sisters to join her, she had to take on the roles of her own brethren and in this moment far from home and her fellow priestesses; tears streamed from her eyes, she felt so lonely. Her breaking heart unleashed itself in her song, making her voice stronger instead of cracking under the pressure of her own weighted heart.

An hour of singing left her throat dry her voice strained and heart heavy, she ended her interlude and turned jogging off briskly to finish the ritual she had started in private


stones and bones
897 Posts
Ooc — Victoria
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#6
Last post for me, I sort of faded it to black. Ellie, feel free to write a conclusion as well, if you'd like. We can just say the actual burial/moving of her body took place behind the scenes. :-)

Thistle did not come back and for that Ragnar was glad. He had not seen Nerian but he had heard her howl rise into the air. In the end only Surra came, filling Ragnar with the relief that he would not have to bury her broken body alone. His blood pulsed cold within his veins as he glimpsed down at her as the other male neared. Surra seemed to recoil for a second, and though seeing a friend like this tore him up seeing her severed spine and broken body wasn’t, really, new for Ragnar. He had seen much worse as far as broken bodies went. The difference, of course, had been astronomical. It hadn’t bothered him as this did because he hadn’t known those wolves. For a moment, Ragnar stared at Surra, waiting to see what the other man would do. If he did not have the stomach to assist Ragnar in what needed to be done the newly appointed Alpha wouldn’t hold it against him. It was gruesome, of that, there was no doubt; it wasn’t like it was an easy task, at that. Her broken body would make it hard to move her and what was already grotesque might become worse from the action but Ragnar wasn’t going to let her body stay here for the bear to return too when it piqued his interest once more, and she deserved the respect of a burial.

Surra, however, did not retreat, earning the Viking’s admiration when he seemed to steel himself and approach, inquiring as to how he could help. “We have to move her body off of the shore,” That was the first thing, at least, “Away from this spot on the occurrence that the bear comes back for her,” The Viking took a deep breath. “This isn’t going to be a gentle job,” He warned because though he didn’t want to disrespect Pump’s corpse at the same time they were not humans and didn’t have the advantage of hands to assist them. “It might even be difficult since her spine is severed and there’s nothing well…” Keeping her in one piece but he didn’t want to say it. Not out loud. He looked to the spot where the sand faded to solid dirt and earth. “We can bury her by that tree line there. If you want you can begin to dig the grave and I’ll take care of moving her.” He wasn’t squeamish and a body torn in two, sadly, wasn’t the worse thing he’d seen in his life.

“Thank you for staying to help,” Ragnar said before he gestured for Surra to make his choice: whether he deigned to begin digging the grave or would assist Ragnar in helping to move her body off the sands, before the Viking took the initial step and initiated the long process of her burial.