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+--- Thread: King Elk Forest i am the quiet (/showthread.php?tid=20076)
i am the quiet - Tonrar - January 15, 2017
bwp thread!
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Thunder boomed overhead even as snow fell without rest upon the frozen earth, driving Tonrar into the cover of forest. The massive, ancient trees offered some shelter from the worst of the winds but the biting chill was seeping, like invincible, icy fingers against his fur, against flesh. Even though the canopy above offered some respite from snowfall and the trunks offered relief from the numbing winds he could not escape the deadly chill. A violent shiver rippled down the strong curve of his spine and gave his fur a shake to dispel the snow that had accumulated upon his back. Tonrar kept moving, moonbeam gaze searching for a place to offer him further shelter. An abandoned den or a hollowed tree trunk. He was not confident his body heat alone was enough to keep him alive but his instinct to survive was a strong one. That was how this all worked: the strongest survive; he had to try because that was all he could do: try.
His steps slowed, his head lowering to study the unmoving mass ahead: an elk, small and young. From the lack of lacerations, smell of illness and blood it had frozen to death. This was not the first find that Tonrar had came upon: a small fox had frozen to death huddled around her lifeless kits. He had not eaten the fox family encompassed by death but his stomach let out a low grumble and he padded towards the frozen corpse only after assuring that none were nearing and he was not encroaching upon a pack’s target. He waited for a few moments, head bowed over the corpse, eyes scanning and ears twitching atop his skull. When he was sure the kill was free to claim he grasped a chunk of frozen meat betwixt his jaws and bit into it. It was hard and did not tear away with ease and so he resorted to gnawing on it, tearing it off in smaller chunks. Finding shelter, a place to regulate his heat so he would not be subjected to a frozen death like the elk he ate from were important goals but so was keeping his belly full. Sating his hunger would keep his energy up and as Tonrar did not yet feel the desperate need to seek further shelter he fed.
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His steps slowed, his head lowering to study the unmoving mass ahead: an elk, small and young. From the lack of lacerations, smell of illness and blood it had frozen to death. This was not the first find that Tonrar had came upon: a small fox had frozen to death huddled around her lifeless kits. He had not eaten the fox family encompassed by death but his stomach let out a low grumble and he padded towards the frozen corpse only after assuring that none were nearing and he was not encroaching upon a pack’s target. He waited for a few moments, head bowed over the corpse, eyes scanning and ears twitching atop his skull. When he was sure the kill was free to claim he grasped a chunk of frozen meat betwixt his jaws and bit into it. It was hard and did not tear away with ease and so he resorted to gnawing on it, tearing it off in smaller chunks. Finding shelter, a place to regulate his heat so he would not be subjected to a frozen death like the elk he ate from were important goals but so was keeping his belly full. Sating his hunger would keep his energy up and as Tonrar did not yet feel the desperate need to seek further shelter he fed.
RE: i am the quiet - Aglæca - January 15, 2017
the cold was a wraith, sinister and deadly. the beauty and relative easy of the early winter was gone, the cold growing and the prey populace shrinking. The air was sharp, cutting a burning path down to her lungs, and there was a silence upon the land that was unheard of in warmer times. She was the only creature in the face of the bitter cold for a long while, interrupted only one by a fleeting group of songbirds, and then she was alone once more.
The cold seeped through her fur, trailed down her spine, bleed into her bones. Her breath was a cloud of white, and hunger was a keen blade she sought to dull. Summer's hospitality was gone, and with it much of her weight. Earlier, a hare fallen prey to the winter had dulled the pain that was hunger, after her teeth had worried the frozen meal for much of an hour, but that had been long ago.
Movement caught her keen gaze, and she stilled, ears pricked atop her skull and gaze fastened in the scene a distance away. There stood another, barely made out through the veil of falling snow, and after a moment, the elk that lay before him. Thunder rumbled, low and ominous, and the woman still did not move. She did not seek the company of others, did not wish it, but the male was currently in custody of something she required.
Slowly did she approach, watching, waiting, stilling a distance away, and watching for a reaction that would determine her next move. Again did the thunder make it's prescence known, the white gathering on her pelt increasing, the sharp cold ever there. She ought to find shelter, she knew, but hunger was the primary concern at the moment.
RE: i am the quiet - Tonrar - January 15, 2017
thank you for joining & i wanted to say that your writing is beautiful! <3
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His tribe had not been subjected to such harsh and unyielding winter as these foreign Wilds suffered and Tonrar had yet to lose weight and judging by the conditions if he did not find a pack to join through the winter he would likely be facing starvation — though currently finding food did not seem to be as difficult as he remembered it being in winter. It was not a fresh kill and the succulent meat did not tear away as easily as it should have but it was food and it served it’s purpose nevertheless. He bent back down to the frozen corpse and gnawed another small chunk free from it’s belly, the sound of tearing flesh as he shook his head and pulled it free echoing in the quiet serenity of the snowfall broken only by the angry boom of thunder as it rocked the forest. Unbothered by it, Tonrar continued to eat. He nosed the corpse and made to gnaw away another chunk when he became aware of the other watching him. Female and lone her scent told him.
A very strong part of Warpath wanted to raise his tail over his spine: to silently signify that he had found this kill first and thus it was his but this was not the way of Kunna. The tribe had never turned away a hungry soul so long as sharing did not jeopardize the pack’s caches any. He might have been banished but he took with him the teachings of the Elders, of the Shaman and though he was little more than a disgraced son: the teachings of the Warchief. Tonrar would not be able to eat the entire elk by himself and he knew it; and what would he do with it? He had no where to drag it too and it would simply slow him down. Even if he shared with her he doubted they would be able to polish it off. Salmon pink tongue drew across his blood stained jowls as his head lifted to study her where she stood waiting.
She could have rushed him for it. Fought him for it but she hadn’t and that had to be respected. “There is more than enough for both of us.” Came his simple invitation.
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A very strong part of Warpath wanted to raise his tail over his spine: to silently signify that he had found this kill first and thus it was his but this was not the way of Kunna. The tribe had never turned away a hungry soul so long as sharing did not jeopardize the pack’s caches any. He might have been banished but he took with him the teachings of the Elders, of the Shaman and though he was little more than a disgraced son: the teachings of the Warchief. Tonrar would not be able to eat the entire elk by himself and he knew it; and what would he do with it? He had no where to drag it too and it would simply slow him down. Even if he shared with her he doubted they would be able to polish it off. Salmon pink tongue drew across his blood stained jowls as his head lifted to study her where she stood waiting.
She could have rushed him for it. Fought him for it but she hadn’t and that had to be respected. “There is more than enough for both of us.” Came his simple invitation.
RE: i am the quiet - Aglæca - January 16, 2017
his eyes, she noted thoughtlessly, were of pure silver. she did not raise her own, of murky cloud and storm, did not dare instigate the challenge that came with looking deep into the gaze of another. for she was proud, yet hardly foolish, and would not dare a confrontation with the ravenous cold ever a threat. For the winter was a hunter formidable as the wolf, and weakness would earn nothing more than a fridgid death.
Thus she was still, as the heavens in their rage rumbled and let fall a ever thickening veil of snow, the wind in agony howling as it threw itself through the barren limbs of the wood. The flick of a salmon tongue across a maw colored with blood, almost contemplatively, the eyes the colour of sky bloodless and bleached, studying her. Steadfast she stood, until a verdict was reached, and after a moment's pause did she move.
Her approach was wary, and when she neared did her paws still once more, after a moment's hesitation lowering her form to the snow. Nothing could be gained from the other attacking, nor was it reasonable, as his scent mark him as another lone. "Thank you." Came her words, slipping from her maw in an unfamiliar manner, so long had her tongue been still. Her head dipped low, fangs began the task of worrying the frozen flesh so that it may become edible, though much of her awareness was set not on this task but on the other, for it only natural of the solitary to be wary of the unfamiliar.
Thus she was still, as the heavens in their rage rumbled and let fall a ever thickening veil of snow, the wind in agony howling as it threw itself through the barren limbs of the wood. The flick of a salmon tongue across a maw colored with blood, almost contemplatively, the eyes the colour of sky bloodless and bleached, studying her. Steadfast she stood, until a verdict was reached, and after a moment's pause did she move.
Her approach was wary, and when she neared did her paws still once more, after a moment's hesitation lowering her form to the snow. Nothing could be gained from the other attacking, nor was it reasonable, as his scent mark him as another lone. "Thank you." Came her words, slipping from her maw in an unfamiliar manner, so long had her tongue been still. Her head dipped low, fangs began the task of worrying the frozen flesh so that it may become edible, though much of her awareness was set not on this task but on the other, for it only natural of the solitary to be wary of the unfamiliar.
thank you!! <3 your writing is amazing as well!
RE: i am the quiet - Tonrar - January 16, 2017
^_^ <3
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Tonrar did not move from where he stood as she accepted his invitation and moved nearer to stand opposite of him. The guard hairs along the nape of his neck, russet saddled with mocha lackluster and coarse from his winter coat ruffled but not enough to bristle. Their meeting was not a hostile one and though Warpath had no designs to change that, it did not curb his natural weariness of her; and if her body language was of any indication he was not alone in his uncertainty. She was uncertain of him too but whatever the reason the Chiefs of Old had seen to it that their paths cross and that they were both blessed, in their own ways, by the frozen young elk corpse and that they were both willing enough to share despite the bitter cold that tore through the Wilds, each moment that pulsed by them like blood through a vein brought with it the possibility of their demise. The possibility that either of them might end up like the unfortunate creature they fed on was a very real one.
That knowledge unsettled Tonrar. Though his training to be Warchief had been completed and thus he had earned his naturalist and warrior trades within the Kunna tribe he had been banished before he could earn his master trades. Still, it did not take a master — or even a shaman for that matter — to tell that there was no end in sight for the storm. The wrath of winter was just beginning, he feared. Warpath lowered his masked face to the elk to worry another, small chunk free as she spoke her gratitude to him. “The Chiefs of Old have provided,” He spoke with deep rooted assurance — Tonrar’s way of accepting her gratitude whilst diverting it from himself to the ancients who were truly deserving of thanks. He had simply found it as she had found him.
“I am called Tonrar.” He offered his name giving slight pause on the frozen piece of muscle he’d been worrying loose to gauge her reaction before he returned to his mission, teeth ripping and tearing at the frozen sinew and flesh.
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That knowledge unsettled Tonrar. Though his training to be Warchief had been completed and thus he had earned his naturalist and warrior trades within the Kunna tribe he had been banished before he could earn his master trades. Still, it did not take a master — or even a shaman for that matter — to tell that there was no end in sight for the storm. The wrath of winter was just beginning, he feared. Warpath lowered his masked face to the elk to worry another, small chunk free as she spoke her gratitude to him. “The Chiefs of Old have provided,” He spoke with deep rooted assurance — Tonrar’s way of accepting her gratitude whilst diverting it from himself to the ancients who were truly deserving of thanks. He had simply found it as she had found him.
“I am called Tonrar.” He offered his name giving slight pause on the frozen piece of muscle he’d been worrying loose to gauge her reaction before he returned to his mission, teeth ripping and tearing at the frozen sinew and flesh.