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+--- Thread: Emberflame Ridge No one can say what we get to be. (/showthread.php?tid=26563)
No one can say what we get to be. - Durnehviir - April 06, 2018
Would love a thread with @Samaantine if you're free, but otherwise AW. :)
Despite the strain of pregnancy on her tiny frame, Durnehviir was coping well with their travels. She was enjoying seeing more of the Teekon alongside Constantine and their pack-mates, who'd dutifully agreed to follow them to support their next claim on Swiftcurrent Creek. When last she'd visited her birth-place after years travelling with Viinturuth there had been no sign of another pack moving in on the turf, but that'd been months ago - she had not paused to consider the possibility that it might be home to others now and, with that thought having presented itself, decided to keep it to herself.
Several hours after venturig from the willows at morning's first light, Durnehviir branched away from the group as she often did, though did not stray far. She quietly trailed through the forest that covered the ridge, drawn by the leaping of a squirrel between the branches above. It busied itself above her, stopping regularly to preen its furs and eye the wolf that obviously observed its movement.
RE: No one can say what we get to be. - Samaantine - April 06, 2018
grabby hands
The shadow had been absent again; following the fight, she sought to isolate herself, rarely accepting even her brother's company. Most days she found it easy, only catching a glimpse of a packmate every once in awhile. She slipped away on those occasions, likely no more than a ghost at the edges of their vision. Solitude suited the Messeda girl, provided time to recharge-- and now she felt ready again. The world was still out there, and while she still breathed she would always come back to dig her claws in where she could.
The pack's move was conveniently timed, she felt. Samaantine was ever a fickle creature, and thought perhaps she would have stayed in the forest if the departure had been sooner. It was nice-- and inspired more sentiment than the members of Ravensblood Forest, she found. That her lack of attachment could be her own fault never crossed her mind; the pack was lucky to have her at all, she thought, and if they wanted her as a friend perhaps they could work on boring her less. Nevermind that she hadn't spoken a word to most of them.
Perhaps, subconsciously, the girl knew or at least suspected she was at fault; the morning brought some strange, nagging desire to seek one of her packmates. One that wasn't her brother-- though, the alpha's pregnant mate had not been what she had in mind, either. Nonetheless, it was the first scent she came across, and stubbornly Samaantine refused to track down another of the wolves she shared a home with. This one would do.
She approached slowly when the female came into sight, dipping her head and issuing a soft chuff to announce her presence. A moment was spared to glance over the she-wolf cloaked in copper and crimson, though Samaantine carefully avoided the curve of her belly. Her expression did not betray the distaste she felt at the growing life; as far as she was concerned, pups were a nuisance. Necessary, perhaps, but that didn't mean she had to like them. Not that it mattered either way-- the woman was definitely too pregnant to back out now, and Samaantine wasn't about to interfere either. She would just go back to avoiding the other she-wolf like the plague when the little beasts arrived.
The pack's move was conveniently timed, she felt. Samaantine was ever a fickle creature, and thought perhaps she would have stayed in the forest if the departure had been sooner. It was nice-- and inspired more sentiment than the members of Ravensblood Forest, she found. That her lack of attachment could be her own fault never crossed her mind; the pack was lucky to have her at all, she thought, and if they wanted her as a friend perhaps they could work on boring her less. Nevermind that she hadn't spoken a word to most of them.
Perhaps, subconsciously, the girl knew or at least suspected she was at fault; the morning brought some strange, nagging desire to seek one of her packmates. One that wasn't her brother-- though, the alpha's pregnant mate had not been what she had in mind, either. Nonetheless, it was the first scent she came across, and stubbornly Samaantine refused to track down another of the wolves she shared a home with. This one would do.
She approached slowly when the female came into sight, dipping her head and issuing a soft chuff to announce her presence. A moment was spared to glance over the she-wolf cloaked in copper and crimson, though Samaantine carefully avoided the curve of her belly. Her expression did not betray the distaste she felt at the growing life; as far as she was concerned, pups were a nuisance. Necessary, perhaps, but that didn't mean she had to like them. Not that it mattered either way-- the woman was definitely too pregnant to back out now, and Samaantine wasn't about to interfere either. She would just go back to avoiding the other she-wolf like the plague when the little beasts arrived.
RE: No one can say what we get to be. - Durnehviir - April 07, 2018
The squirrel stared down at its stalker and Durnehviir stared right back, silently willing it to climb from the safety of its perch to forage among the forest floor. It was not stupid enough to abandon the canopy, however, and the she-wolf knew she would not be making a meal of it anytime soon. With a defeated huff of breath, she dipped her head and pressed onward through the trees with her nose to the ground in search of easier prey.
She picked up on the scent of a pack-mate, however, and paused in her tracks to turn her head and peer through the foliage over a russet shoulder. The aroma belonged to Samothes' dark-furred sister, she knew, although regretfully had not spent much time with the wolfess. They'd both kept mostly to themselves as of late, it seemed, tending to their own seperate needs as they adjusted to the very different changes they'd come to experience. Durnehviir didn't know how long Samaantine had been a loner, and she knew how difficult it could be to resume life where one had to think of a group collectively, rather than their own survival.
A delicate smile curved upward on the dragoness' pale muzzle when her comrade stepped into view, and she welcomed the Messeda girl to her with a friendly wag of her feathered tail and a warm "hello." She was so unlike her brother, Durnehviir mused. Where Samothes was light-pelted and silver-tongued, Samaantine was as obsidian as they came and clearly preferred her own company. She wondered of her own brothers then, and how greatly she had differed from them. Trajan was entirely greyscale, she recalled; Julius as white as untouched snow, peppered with silver; and the sunrise always reminded her of Relonikiv's golden hues. She hoped they were happy, wherever they'd wound up, and thought of her as fondly as she did of them.