Amyrlin’s encounter with the bear in Great Bear resulted in her fleeing into the Kintla Flatlands, over the Sunspire Mountains, and, finally, into the Taiga. It took the young Lynx a sleepless day’s trek to the Permafrost Hollows. She was exhausted, cold, and famished.
All she had wanted was a couple snowshoe hares! The ptarmigan she had managed to capture only filled her enough to flee the bear, and her belly gnawed at her over the Mountains, pushing her to find somewhere safe.
The Hollows were most familiar; she had passed through after being ousted from the Northern Lights Territory by her mother only a few months ago. Many a hunting trip did she and her mother frequent the Hollows. Closer to her origin, she felt a little more in her element and comfort.
She found her favorite tree, one she had found months ago, where the tree split high into the tree tops, a bed of boughs so thick where she planned to nestle down for a cat nap.
But, first! Food. Then, she will sleep soundly with a full belly.
A glacier loomed in the distance. It was not her glacier, but it had caught her eye several times on the journey to and from Kangirsuk. Only now did she finally have time to explore it.
As she trekked through the forest, she cast her nose for any signs of prey. What little rations she had packed were long gone - she had not felt good faith in accepting any extra meat from the messenger boy's
iglu. Not during winter when he would need the fat for growing.
Scents of hare pooled mouth-wateringly in the twiggy branches of a bush, but Ulloriaq prowled on. Intertwining occasionally was the fainter smell of ermine tucked deep in their burrows - an easier meal. Like a fox, she leapt and broke the snow's surface headfirst and emerged in a flurry of snowflakes, the mammal clutched carefully in her jaws.
It was at this point that the wind shifted.
Lynx. Graceful, but nonetheless powerful creatures. They were not usually a threat to a pack, but for a lone wolf it spelled trouble.
Hackles raised and ears on high alert, she paused and tensely scoured the surrounding trees.
is it okay if we bump this to present day?
Absolutely! It’s been changed to 1/30 :)
One silvered eye peeked through a sleepy lid, having heard a heavy crunching below her in her light sleep. With a quick yawn and stretch, Amyrlin lifted from her bough bed, a gently shake to dislodge any needles adorning her fur, and she peered down to the world below. A mound of snow had been ransacked and she was surprised to see a young wolf peering back up at her.
The lynx’s dropped her head onto the edge of the bough, gazing lazily back, a sly grin to her. “Well, look… at… you, wolf. Mighty hunter of the Permafrost. You caught a weasel. Proud of you.” She gave a nonchalant yawn, getting to her feet and dropping down a few branches to get a closer look at the she-wolf. Fur of snow save for the wings of a raven that adorned her back and blue eyes reminiscent of the crystalline glaciers in the area. Pretty, young. Not a threat.
The feline remained perched on the branch she had landed, eyes never leaving the young canid, and her grin still plastered to her face. Just watching…and waiting.
you're an angel, thanks!
There!
It was hard to distinguish the shape of the cat amidst the similar-coloured branches - only when it moved and gazed down at her with big, moony eyes did she see its features clearly. Fur plush with winter pelage, she couldn't tell much about its age from looks alone. But, given by how relaxed it seemed, she guessed it had experienced few encounters with wolves. That, or it was simply a typical lazy cat.
Still, she did not let her guard down just yet.
Her growl was muffled around the weasel as it spoke languidly and descended until it was grinning down at her like a hungry cheshire cat.
"What do you want, spirit?" Her weasel? Her skull to decorate its napping tree?
As if to make a point, she threw the ermine high in the air before catching and swallowing it in one gulp.
The feline’s eyes followed the weasel’s unfortunate rise and fall, unimpressed at the canine’s display. Moonlit eyes rolled, another bored yawn parting her lips. Amyrlin did not fear this wolf, she had no reason. It was clear that the showmanship was a result of uncertainty in the lynx, whom did not have an ounce of care that this wolf had invaded her space. Her trees were tall and wolves are not known to climb, her safety not a concern.
Well, most aren’t, but there’s always an outlier. So her mother said many turns of the suns ago.
But, this wolf was no threat. Amyrlin was more curious than anything.
“I merely just wanted to observe you.” She said with a shrug. “I do not meet many wolves this close, you all form…packs, afraid of surviving this world with your own power. You are alone, yes?”
When still the lynx made no threatening move towards her, nor acknowledged her display beyond another yawn, the northwoman blew a breathy snort from her nose. The spirit had the high ground to its advantage; if it wanted to attack it would have done so already. And then there was the fact that it did not try to steal her weasel either...
Nevertheless, it was slightly unnerving to know it only wanted to watch her. Despite it's languid disposition, Ulloriaq could not bring herself to believe its words. Cats were tricky and selfish - a whole manner of things different from her own species. They could never be trusted.
"I am not alone," she retorted, not wanting to reveal anything that could put a potential target on her back. Though she was intrigued by all it said, the spirit was undoubtedly wrong. "Packs are not born out of fear. Perhaps, if you ventured off your tree, you would understand that there is strength in unity among our kind." With a dismissive flick of her tail, she turned to leave.
The Lynx’s eyes narrowed, not unkindly, but rather searchingly, and they widened once more as she watched the wolf dismiss her.
“Ah, there it is. You do have a backbone under all that fur. A little fire in your veins. Use it more often, wolf, kindle it into a burning inferno. You never know when you’ll need it.” Her tone was without threat, her voice taking on an eerie, prophetic countenance. Her bones told her it was something the wolf may need to hear, whether she accepted it or not—-that was entirely up to her.
Her time here was done. Should the wolf turn to find her, she would find nothing but an empty branch and little evidence that a feline sat upon it.
Her ears flattened against her head as she watched the cat with a mixture of annoyance and skepticism.
"Spare me your cryptic advice, spirit. I do not need your half-hearted attempts at wisdom. And as for backbones, trust me, I have plenty." At that, she turned her gaze back to the trees and began to trot off into the wilderness.
However, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something more to the spirit's words than met the eye. Curiosity getting the better of her, she was unable to resist a quick glance back. But, to her surprise, the branch was empty.
Perhaps, she had only imagined it. With a shake of her fur, Ulloriaq pushed aside her unsettled feelings, determined to carry on without dwelling on the encounter any longer.