Wolf RPG

Everything was peaceful for a while.  Last night Spring had decided to sleep out in the open, wanting to sleep with the the stars above her head for the first time in forever.  Then she went out on a herb search.  She was quite proud with herself really.  She found some bracken fern, chamomile, cobwebs and even some burdock root!  Her heart seemed to soar with pride as she brought them to a new herb cache that she had been making.  She laid the herbs down in it, but then she thought she heard a buzzing noise.  Of course at the time Spring didn't think much of it though.  Probably just a few bees or wasps. 

This noise went on for a long while until finally she asks just done and extremely beyond compare annoyed.  Still by the new herb cache she stood up and lashed her tail fiercely.  Then began to approach a close high cliff, so that she could get a better view of everything.  That when she saw them.  Weird grasshopper thingies.  They were only half a mile away and they were closing in fast.  It was very strange though because she could just barely make out that vegetation. This was not good.

Almost instantly she sprinted at her fastest capable speed, reaching the herbs in no time.  Not fast enough though.  She began to dig in attempt to burry  the herbs the swarm was upon her.  In just seconds the herbs were gone.  "No-!"  She yelled, but was cut short as lucusts flew into her mouth and down her throat.  The swarm was now upon her and she was terrified out of her mind though.  She knew one thing though, she had to find the other Phoenix's.  Spring pushed her way through the swarming masses, fighting through with all the willpower that she held.

He could not stop thinking about her; the little one from the beach, the perfect child whom reminded him of Monet. She was like a miniature Monet, filled to the brim with enthusiasm and many interests; little Deirdre, the magical girl. Ren thought fondly of his time upon the beach with her, as well as her darling father, and wondered if he should seek them out — but he was jarred from his thoughts by a strange sound in the air. It was so very, very strange — a cacophony of hissing, or singing, but the tones were ill-sounding to his sensitive ears. The man paused and raised his head, curious of this strange new thing, and turned his head and forequarters with an excited expression upon his butter-toned face; he had nary the time to catch sight of the darkness in the air before the swarm descended.

Renoir didn't want to move at first. He felt the the many legs touching him, combing through his fur, and he should have been unsettled. Afraid, maybe. He should have felt something, but the boy was in shock. He was soon swallowed up by the shifting cloud of insects — and after a few moments of being overwhelmed, his golden body burst from the heart of the cloud. He did not know what to do, and simply ducked to avoid them. They were everywhere — these cthonic things, wrought from his worst nightmares — and Renoir's ineptitude was immense.

He ducked, weaved, spun, dashed — showcasing a nimble physicality which even he was unaware of. By the time he reached the nearest ridge and fell panting towards the forest, he was puffing and wheezing, and the trees themselves were alive with the creatures. It was clear that the bugs were more interested in the trees than in him, although some still tried to test his flesh for some edible quality. The boy bristled and whined, dancing away from the heavier clusters of locusts and weaving between trees, when he heard a shout.

The swarm moved between the trees with him, and he ran for that sound - the voice among the din of white noise - and saw a stranger being swallowed up in much the same manner as himself. He wished to call out to her, to help her somehow but having seen the affect of opening one's mouth to let the evil in, Renoir was convinced to stay silent. He raced through the trees towards her nonetheless, and when he reached the stranger he began to snap at the bugs upon her body — trying to free her from them yet being afraid of the taste upon his tongue.

Jaws snapped at her sides.  Her first gut reaction was to snarl at the new wolf, out of pure fear, but she didn’t, just couldn’t.  This wolf was helping her.  It could be a pack member after all.  She stopped mid-snarl and instead let out a low whine of gratitude, mouth shut all the while.  In turn she craned her neck and tried to snap at the unidentified wolf's sides if allowed in attempts to rid the wolf of the clinging cricket-like things as the crickets pestered them both.  Spring wondered who this being was though.  Was it a member of the pack, someone who had gotten lost from their own Pack in the Storm of Locusts or was it a loner?  She found that it did not matter.  The wolf seemed to be friendly enough so far, so she would take the situation as granted.  Plus it wouldn’t really matter who it was anyways for the moment, because her Pack was only resting here, so technically this was free range to anyone in her perspective... unless they got to close to Saena’s pups.  Then they would be murdered and dead as a doornail.

Bugs continued to swarm and Spring began to wonder how long this would last.  It could last days for one so she did the logical thing.  She began to turn away from the wolf, but still let him know her location if he couldn’t see her though the sea of bugs already, by lightly touching him with her tail... or at least she was pretty sure she was touching the other wolf’s fur.  Then she began to walk towards a nearby cave that she had noticed on a walk yesterday, all the while trying to guide the unidentified wolf with her tail so that this wolf could seek refuge to.

He danced around her systematically snapping at the locusts, breaking some with ease and then recoiling to spit their parts out or missing them entirely. Renoir did not know what was worse: the voracity of the swarm itself, or the nastiness of each individual bug. He had never been that squeamish before; proper, careful, but not afraid of a little dirt or a little bug. These were big bugs though, and the number of them was overwhelming.

Once he'd gotten a good number of the creatures off of the other wolf, they seemed to free up - moving around him in a countering manner. Renoir snapped at bugs, she snapped at bugs, and gradually she even began to lead him away. The boy didn't care where they went as long as they were safe, and she was safe. It could've been a trap. To think that someone might use this catastrophe to lure a wolf to his demise was melodramatic and ridiculous, but Renoir thought of it anyways; he did follow her, but lagged behind while the locust horde swelled around him. 

When eventually the girl paused before the dark opening of a cave, Renoir knew to let his silly fears slide away. He loped through the swarm - still snapping at the random bug which flew in to his path - and ushered her inside to safety, letting her settle first before ducking in after her. The golden boy's body became a grey smudge in the dark, and the light filtering in to the cave was broken by the intermittent wave of bug bodies that sought the trees around them. A few landed and tried to scurry in to the dark with them, which Renoir hastily tossed aside with a flick of his paw.

He was silent, mostly because he was so out of breath from the struggle.

The cave came into view and Spring found herself ushered inside by the male, into darkness.  Barely any light filtered into the cave, due to the Locust swarm covering up the sunlight.  Still there was just enough to the point where she could see the outline of the other wolf.  In this lighting he looked grayish, but she was sure that in the light his pelt would have a different shade, because it was hard to see anything in here.  Her paws even looked gray after all, which normally looked cream due to this weird lighting.

“Thanks.”  She whispered quietly and breathlessly.  Even though she probably could have managed on her own it was nice to have someone help her out.  She knew that she would probably want to go find Saena soon though, with the pups.  She didn't like the thought of the four being trapped in the wave of bug, but Saena was strong so she supposed that the pups and her would be all right.  Suddenly she remembered a question that she should probably be asking this wolf.  “Who are you?”  She whispered, eyes suddenly narrowing.  “And why did you help me?"

From inside the cave, in the dark, Renoir heard a muffled thanks, but he was still too tired from the struggles of reaching the cave to speak. So, the only response he gave to her for the first stretch of their alone time was the constant beat of his heart, and his hungry panting. After licking his lips a few times (and cleaning some bug grime from his snout) Renoir felt a little more calm.

Her first question did not surprise him much, though the second did, and held his attention. He shifted, letting more light in to the cave, and his pelt caught that light faintly. Tendrils of his thin coat danced in the pale illumination, glowing faintly gold. His face was a dark shape within the shadows, but he hoped she could at least hear the goodness in his voice as he said: You needed 'elp, zo I 'elp. Dere was nothin' else to do. De bugs are trè gwo! She had been in need, and Renoir was well trained in his beliefs. No woman should ever be left alone, and if they ever needed protection then a man was to step up. Mwen am called Renoir. What is your name?

She liked his accent.  It sounded as pretty as her formal language of French back at Starlit Hills.  "My name is Spring."  She began with an absent swish of her tail.  "Renior..." Spring began, "thank you for helping me out.  I'm sure I could've saved myself, but still.  Thank you.  That means a lot to me."  Spring sat down with a small sweet smile to Renior, as he called himself.

She was suddenly tempted to ask about what his other language that he spoke was.  She could hear it's melody slipping into his English.  She actually had even prephaps picked up a few words.  Did Mwen mean I?  It sounded like it would since the closest word that she could think that he could put infront of "am called Renior.  Who are you?"  Was I.  It seemed pretty logical after all.  "What is the other language that you speak Renior?  I like it, it's pretty.  As pretty as French I suppose."  She finished in a softer and swetter tone of voice.

He did not mean to make her feel incapable if that was the result of his action, only desiring her safety. Her thanks and praise-filled words were met with a smile, though it was hard to see the slight change in shape to his face. He remained obscured by the cave walls. The light outside flickered with intermittent movement as bugs droned by outside and Renoir - eager to keep them  both free of the things - repeatedly flicked at the large locusts as they invaded in tiny groups.

Her comment about his voice made him give pause, feeling a bit embarrassed. It was not common for others to make such a major declaration of his habits; then again, his language was rare in these parts. He assumed she was only being curteous, and would be friendly in return. It is kreyòl, very much like franse, yes. My people are fluent. Dees words you speak, eh, dey are harder for tèt mwen​.

Spring listened to him speak.  It seemed from what he said that he knew of french, as he compared it to this language he called kreyòl.  This had to mean that he knew of French then.  So did this mean that Renior could speak it?  Spring wasn't sure, still it was worth a shot to at least ask him.

"Est-il plus facile pour vous de parler français alors Renior?"  She asked Renior, this time using French, rather than English to see if Renior could even undertsnad it for one and to see if it would be easier to speak to her in it.  She was surprised though that she could still speak it fluently.  She hadn't spoken French to anyone in a very long time, about a year now.  French had been the main language back at Starlit Hills though she supposed,  perhaps that was why she still had the ability to speak it.

She abruptly switched dialects, which was a great surprise to Renoir, having only heard two others use the language. A grin spread across his face, catching the light as he pulled back sharply from the cave mouth. Easier than the common tongue of this place, yes! His words were a mixture - mostly the kreyol he had been using before, but with some muddy bits of french. It was far cleaner than his native tongue and felt strange as he used it, but if it meant they could communicate better — he was all for it. Where do you come from? It is a blessing to hear you speak such a wonderful language, it has grown so rare in this place.

Spring could mostly understand the male as he spoke.  "Je viens du Canada."  She responded, to explain where she originated from.  She paused for a couple seconds before contiuning.  ."Même si je dois dire que j'aime l'anglais, je l'aime vraiment la beauté de la langue française et je suppose que je trouve cela plus facile que toute autre langue."  She explained.

Spring wondered how many langues this Renior knew.  He had to know a couple due to the fact that he could so far speak Kreyòl, rocky English and rocky French to Spring's own knowledge.  Who had taught him so many langues she wondered to herself.  She decided that she would have to ask at some point into this conversation.

He thought she would name a pack at the very least, but the answer he got was succinct, though he did not recognize the location. If there were wolves out there that spoke the way he did, he was happy. Maybe one day there would be a little corner of the wilds populated solely by francophones! But that was pushing it; Renoir had no intention of settling down in such a manner himself, though the man he had been visiting on the beach -- the dark wolf who had so graciously offered his home -- came to mind instantly.

The golden boy did not speak those thoughts, but listened, and began to idly preen at his feet. There were some bits of bug stuck to the fur of his forelegs, and it was unsightly even in the dark. It is familiar. It is easier to understand, unlike the common tongue in this place. He lifted his head at this comment and stuck out his tongue, making a blehh face to get the point across, and the sheen of his moist tongue caught the light. There is no flow to their language. I almost prefer silence among the natives here...

Upon realizing he was ranting a little, the boy shrank back a little and placed his head upon his crossed paws, his nose tipping just outside of the cave and in to the intermittent sun. But I am thankful. I think my search has ended finally, and I have found a place with my own kind. Although he needed to visit Donnelaith and be made confident in his decision, something told Renoir that the choice was simple — or perhaps already made up in his mind, somewhere.

Spring listened quietly while Renior spoke.  She found herself enjoying the sweetness of a language that she hadn't used in forever even if the one she was speaking it too wasn't the best speaker of French.  Still it was better than nothing and she seriously missed speaking the smooth flow of her lovely language.  She wondered if anyone else in her pack spoke it and she just hadn't noticed.  Maybe she would ask.  Just maybe.

"Donc, vous avez trouvé un groupe puis Renior?"  She asked the male, a twinge of curiousity hinting in her voice.  She paused a few moments longer before adding.  "Avez-vous déjà trouvé un groupe qui parle français dans Teekon Wilds?"  She was purely curious of that other question.  It would be nice to know if anyone else in another pack spoke French.  Although she didn't have intresests in joining someone else's pack currently, it was simply a question that would be neat to know for future if Renior happened to have an answer.

Oh, yes! He responded hastily, and could not stop his tail from wagging with great thumps against the earth floor. Dust spanned the area he had disturbed, and he abruptly halted movement until it had settled. Looking apologetic, he went on to mention, Donnelaith. It is a beautiful seaside place, and there are kind beings there that speak like me. Or rather, like you. Their french was music to my ears when I met them, which was partially why he had accepted Lasher's offer to begin with. Thinking on that, he had been waylayed by the swarm and would need to touch base with them again soon.

And you? Perhaps it would make time pass quickly if they conversed on the topic of home. There are many families in this place, and many wolves. Surely you have a safe haven of your own - besides this cave, of course. His humor was lost as a fresh wave of locusts drove by the cave entrance, and Renoir had to turn back to the opening in order to ward them away with snapping teeth and the thrust of his muzzle; but he kept his ears turned upon the woman, eager to listen.

Donnelaith.  Such a pretty name for a pack.  Spring's thoguhts were briefly interupted though by little dust storm and then the new wave of locusts, which she helped Renior fight off.  "Donnelaith."  She began.  "J'aime son de cela."  Spring purred.  She paused a moment thinking over everything else that Renior had spoken of before contiuning.  "Je suis surpris d'entendre que d'autres dans la Teekon Wilds parlent français.  C'est bon de savoir.  Je vous remercie."  Spring told him with a little happy wag of her tail.  Renior was lucky to have someone to speak to in his favorite language, when she had no one so far.

Then she contiuned on to speak of her tone, although she was careful to be vagye, not wanting to give away any vital information on accident.  "Je viens de Phoenix Maplew-."  She shut her mouth noticing that she had spoken of the Maplewood.  The place was no longer her current living place as Renior probably meant.  That place would always probably be her true home though.  A sadness came overcame Spring expression for a moment as she remembered that beautiful place.  Then she did her best to hide away that sad emotional pain and began to speak once more.  "Mon groupe se déplace.  Nous sommes des nomades à l'heure actuelle, je suppose."  She finished with a small sigh, glancing outside at the swarm for a few moments.

The maplewood? No, she cut herself off, but he wondered still what that place could be. Was it one of the fire-boughed forests he had passed by? Renoir tried to think, but the din of insects outside - plus the sound of Spring's lovely voice - made it difficult, so he gave up. Hearing that her entire family was out there somewhere wandering made his heart ache.

A subtle sadness overtook his face. That is unfortunate, my condolences miss. What would that have been like? To leave behind the world as you knew it, and to adventure with an entire pack? No doubt she was safe with the others of her family; yet where would they go? How chaotic her life must be in these moments. I am sure you will find a home soon. Though it might be... A little harder now. He too turned his head to peer outside of the cave, watching as the bugs chowed down upon the foliage outside. There would be nothing left in the coming hours, and the bugs would surely leave by that point.

Spring pinned her ears back, and began to sadly eye the ground.  She wondered what the Maplewood would look like now?  All sad and dead looking probably, as the green munchers eat the beautiful contrasts of the Maplewood.  Although it sadden her to think of that place and how it was probably getting all of it's greenness terminated, maybe it was a good thing that her Pack had fled.  So they would still have that perfect last envisioning of the Maplewood.  Some day she was sure that she would have to find time to revisit the Maplewood.  To see what fate had become of it.

"Merci.  Oui, je m'ennuie toujours sur le Maplewood.  Cependant, je ne peux qu'espérer que mon groupe et moi sommes en mesure de trouver un nouvel endroit pour s'installer rapidement."  Spring replied to Renior, in response to his pity.  Although she found that a part of her was slightly angered by the pity.  We can handle our own weight Renior.  She thought quietly, with out even trying to.  Still she hoped her thoughts were correct.  Not the other way around.

It sounded as if there were a lull in the great wave of bugs, so Renoir took a moment to turn his head fully out of the cave, and observe. He heard her words and smiled, nodding politely - Yes, of course, before getting up and stretching his legs outside of their hiding place. There were still many bugs. Some whizzed by him, others bumbled in to one another as they sought something to eat - but around him, from the trees to the ground he stood on, there was nothing for them. In the short time the wolves had been hiding the entire area had been stripped.

Renoir looked at this with a briefly horrified expression on his face. He turned slowly to survey everything, and by the time he finished he felt a great sadness inside of him. But he put on a brave smile and bowed his head, murmuring to Spring, The bugs have mostly gone. I think you will be safe now. Soon they would b e splitting up. While Ren wished to go with her and make sure her travel was safe, he knew he would need to return to the Donnelaith soon.

Spring was gone.  All of the beautfiul plants that had once flourished the area had disapeared.  The bugs had eaten every last one.  Spring face twisted with distraught.  Why?  Why had this happened here?  The greenery... it was all gone.  No more herbs!  All gone quick as a flash.  "No..."  She whispered quietly to herself.  This was terrible, pure devastation.

Her attention was to narrowed down onto the devastion to the point where she almost didn't hear Renior.  She nodded, quietly.  "Oui.  Je te souhaite bonne chance."  Was all she could muster up in a whisper.  Her heart seemed to break in two.  She had to find Saena, they had to leave this place, yet where would the Pheonix's go?  This had probably happened everywhere, since the Locust storm seemed to be sweeping everything away everywhere, like a broom to dust.

He saw the many emotions flit across her face, and was stunned by them. Though he felt them keenly himself, she was emotive; and in this now dead place, Renoir focused upon that to keep himself grounded. Her surprise shifted to sadness, to the beginnings of grief, and with a stunned little voice he heard her heart crack. Though she mirrored his own feelings, he knew he could return to the Donnelaith and be safe among his new kin — but where would she go? To her people with no home? The boy was tempted to offer her respite or something akin to it, something certain, but held his tongue. She was proud of her family (that much had been shown during their brief conversation) and so he would not offend her by asking.

But he did drift closer to her, and carefully, coyly, placed his chin upon her shoulder with the hope it would bring calm. It was brief. He did not wish to bother her to any great capacity with his proximity and had learned that some wolves did not like physical contact; so once he withdrew, he gave her a small bow and mumbled farewell: And to you, much luck.

Renoir would remember the strange storm of locusts for some time, and the cave with the french woman,  and though it was a terrible time in the wilds it would be a beautiful memory to himself. Without another word he departed from her side, and headed towards home.

Spring just contiuned to stare at the scene dumbfoundedly.  The plants, all of the herbs!  They were gone!  Dead!  Swept away, like a meteor in space.  It was just sad... so very sad.  How would she help her pack to the fullest now.  She was best at healing, but now all of the herbs that helped make that possible were gone.  What if someone was seriously injured and since she was the only current medic, she would have to figure out how to save them, but then she couldn't because all of the herbs wer gone.  A quieter sniffle rose from her, barely noticable, but still there.

She let Renior pity her as he placed his chin on her shoulder trying to calm her and little it did, it was the gesture that counted and her heart warmed the slightest by it.  She then watched as he withdrew and wished her luck.  "Je vous remercie.  Je vous souhaite bon chance sur vous propres voyages.