Wolf RPG

He went after her but Talisman never found the mysterious woman (@Qiao). It was as if her trail vanished into the ether. Part of him wondered if he’d dreamed the entire encounter—it wasn’t the first time that notion had crossed his mind since arriving in this particular stretch of wilderness—but, in any case, he didn’t die from poisoning, which left him to continue wandering.

After crossing a fair meadow and bedding down in a forest that could only be described as creepy or possibly haunted, Talis rose with the sun and trotted further north. He came to the edge of a great lake and took care of his thirst before roaming along the shoreline. On the far side, the lake emptied into a river. The young coyote decided to follow it.

Unbeknownst to him, he walked along the edge of plain where his ancestors once lived as slaves. He strode along at a steady pace, barely aware of the open grasses, until he came to an abrupt halt and turned his head sharply to the right. The wind sloughed across the dewy plain and he could’ve sworn on his life he heard a voice whisper, “Zafra!”

His auburn ears pressed forward, swept back, then pricked again. Talis squinted, then drew in a breath and prepared to keep moving. Before he could, he abruptly noticed movement many yards away across the grassland. He stared at it a moment, trying to focus his pale blue eyes, and realized it was a deer. It became especially clear when the beast raised its—his, going by the antlers—head and shook it all about like he was doing the Hokey Pokey.

Talis crouched, trying to hide his svelte figure among the long grasses. He was hungry but he wasn’t stupid, no matter what that woman implied. He wouldn’t hunt the stag, though he could certainly watch him for a while to see if he did anything entertaining.

The deer pranced; there was no other word for it. Talisman was riveted, arctic blue eyes tracking every one of the ungulate’s wild movements and wondering to himself, Why? Why did he dance like that? Was he simply giddy? Or was there perhaps some mildly interesting, mundane explanation? Maybe he’d been stung by a bee? It seemed a little late in the year for that, though it was always possible.

All the joyful movement came to an abrupt stop and Talis shrunk even further down into the grass, wary of being spotted. What if the buck noticed him and charged? Talis thought he could probably outmaneuver if not outpace the larger creature… but there was no telling, was there? He could get trampled by those erratic hooves. All it would take was one well-aimed kick and that deer could take his whole self out, Hokey Pokey him straight into the afterlife.

It’s time, Talisman thought to himself, creeping a forepaw across the ground, to turn yourself around. Slowly, methodically, he attempted to rotate his body 180°, with the hope of going undetected as he slunk back in the direction of the riverbank.

While attempting to twist his body in the opposite direction, Talis tried to keep an eye on the deer, just in case. But it was inevitable that his attention strayed to his own bodily contortions as he attempted to stealthily retreat. Prowling through long grasses required a lot of care and focus; those long, slender blades could produce quite a lot of noise to the ears of the animal kingdom.

Speaking of which, he heard a disconcerting amount of sound coming from behind him. Unthinkingly, Talis whipped his head around and sat up a little to get his eyes back on the stag. He was in a decidedly different pose now—a much more threatening one, to be sure—and he was looking right at Talis.

Oh, the coyote said right as the deer shouted, “HELLO!” Oh dear.

It was a matter of fight-or-flight. Talisman abruptly unwound his body to face the deer again, not bothering to conceal himself. He stood at his full height, blinking at the stag with his stubby antlers. Had he really just shouted that? Was he trying to be friendly? It was one thing for a wolf and a raccoon to fraternize, but a coyote and a deer?

Maybe there really is something in the water here, Talisman muttered to himself.

The deer came closer. Talis tensed and licked his lips, disarmed by the creature’s cordial demeanor but intimidated by his presence otherwise. He was large—even bigger up close—and still moving a little erratically for the coyote’s tastes. The way he kept shaking his head and wielding those antlers made Talis warily think, Hokey Pokey, indeed…

Er, he blurted when the deer repeated an enthusiastic greeting, hi?

“My name’s Winston!” he declared, perfectly understandably, which was also part of what simultaneously enchanted and unnerved Talisman. He said a few other things, even paid the coyote a compliment, and Talis continued juggling the notions that he was dreaming, poisoned or possibly both.

Thanks? Why was everything coming out of his mouth a question? Er, nice to meet you, Winston. I think? Sorry, I don’t mean to be all weird, it’s just… My dad always told me not to play with my food but he never said anything about engaging it in polite conversation! I’ve never talked to a deer before, he admitted, a little wide-eyed, too hung up on that to introduce himself.

Really, Talis said a little faintly, faded eyes cutting side to side when Winston mentioned “the band.” I guess not, he could only agree, not at all sure what it referenced.

The deer moved some more, each flicker and twist causing Talisman’s body to instinctively stiffen. But as he stared at the beast looming over him, something dawned on him slowly. It became particularly clear when he noticed Winston’s waggling tail. The coyote focused on it for a beat before his polar gaze raised back to catch on Winston’s honey-brown eyes.

He was kind of adorable.

Oh, um, my name’s Talisman, the coyote suddenly remembered himself, flashing Winston an apologetic smile even as he finally began to ease into this conversation. You can call me Talis, though. Do you… He paused, turning over the question in his mind to make sure it wasn’t some kind of faux pas, not that he had a frame of reference here. Do you often talk to… predators?

Winston evidently didn’t consider him a threat, nor a predator, based on the next few words out of his soft-lipped mouth. Talisman’s own mouth hung open a little as the deer jerked and twitched—the coyote tried not to cringe—then muttered something about lions and tigers and bears and bobcats, oh my!

He could’ve pointed out that he was very much a carnivore, though why should he spoil Winston’s delightful illusion? Besides, it wasn’t like Talisman posed any serious threat to the much larger beast. He was hungry but he already found himself balking at the mere thought of trying to hurt Winston.

No, no, it’s fine, Talis said quickly. I’m not from anywhere in particular. My parents were nomads and so am I, he shared with a few twitches of his cinnabar tail.

It was entirely possible he was only feeling this way toward Winston because of his recent loneliness, though he very much doubted it. Anyone who crossed paths with this particular stag would be enchanted. It was as if he’d pranced right off the screen of a Disney film.

His stomach chose that moment to very abruptly and loudly growl. Talisman tensed, then gazed up at Winston, wondering if it would suddenly click that they were mortal enemies. Perhaps he could stave off such a revelation.

Hey, Winston, do you know anything good to eat around here, by any chance? Like… maybe some berries or something?

Where before Winston’s movements had seemed erratic, he now moved rather adroitly. It was, in a word, impressive. Talisman just stood and watched a moment, admiring his new friend’s graceful bounding and wondering why it was so different than before. Perhaps it was simply because he was moving deliberately now, with purpose and a destination.

Before the deer could get too far ahead, Talis broke into a trot. He considered himself a pretty poised fellow himself, though he felt almost flatfooted compared to Winston. He drew up his head and lashed his auburn tail upward to give himself some flair—he knew he looked striking this way—and dashed after Winston, almost as if giving chase.

But, of course, that wasn’t what he was doing. He caught up and loped alongside the larger beast, patient and quiet as Winston cast about for this particularly favorable and sweet berry patch of his.