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+--- Thread: Overture Downs and the desolate moorland below (/showthread.php?tid=30599)
and the desolate moorland below - Dirge - November 06, 2018
Northward from the glade came the sloping hills and snow drifts tucked away where rivulets broke across the earth. The rise of the sun pulled him along as he stretched his legs, having risen to the conclusion it was perhaps better to turn back now and swallow some of his pride. Admit fault, among other things. He certainly wasn't finding Nyx out here either and by now, he accepted that she had more than a day's start ahead of him on whatever winding road took her out of the area.
So even with that in mind, he still could not shake the feeling of just going a bit further. This all was uncharted territory to him and the natural call to follow it and where it led was hard to resist. It had been some time since he had simply gone for a wander that took him well out of the realm of familiarity, and now that he had gotten started on it he had to stave off the notion of continuing. Fool's errand and a half to keep up the travel though, he had to remind himself, as the snows only seemed to deepen the further east he went, and the further north he dared to push.
He did not need much in the way of reminding just how cold the far north was.
So it was along the streams he went, arcing back to the south with minute resignation crossing his countenance. It was a little disappointing that he hadn't considered abandoning the weald earlier to travel, that perhaps if he had then he would not be left wondering where his sister had gone and whether she was fine, and in turn not be as bothered by it as he was. She had come around a little, delving back into her normal self for what seemed a sure stretch, but he should have known better. The best kind of intentions always invited the worst trouble—he had a better understanding of that now, another thing to consider.
But the heart wants what the heart wants and in lieu of one failure, he would trade it for the potential success of another in due time. Or so he thought and believed, as his eyes lighted on the cropping up of a forest that was now less distant and more detailed than before. He didn't know it yet, but he would learn swiftly of his need to abandon following the stream for the hilltops west, as the full nature of the valley, at least here, was teeming with packs.
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RE: and the desolate moorland below - Nunataq - November 15, 2018
The smell of a dead body was complex, consisted of many layers and differed from species to species. Nunataq had begun her lessons in scent discrimination between food sources in various stages of decay, when one of the adults had regurgitated half-digested mice for her first meat meal. It had reeked of digestive juices, hair and singed bones, quite suspicious and disgusting really, and very different from the sweet smell of milk, but there and then the important message was that not all food had to look nice and behold a lovely odour to be edible.
Over the hot days of summer her food had varied from fresh, to "going bad", to "mummifying", to "becoming putrid" and on one occasion "explosive". The latter had been an occasion, when she had accidentally come across a dead deer carcass, that had remained in the sun too long and had burst open. The stench of carrion gasses was overwhelming even for Nuna, who had got dizzy after spending time, picking up the innards that had been scattered in the grass. And for a few days after that her nose could simply not catch scent of anything else.
The most challenging sessions for the growing wolf were, when she detected a promising smell flowing in the air or coming from a yet unspecified source underground. On this day we found her working on the latter problem in the Overtire downs. When a wolf appeared on the horizon, she was deeply focused on scanning a particular square piece of ground, walking in circles, back and forth, trying to localize a scent that promised a possible meal. The molecules of that creature, who had died either in the underground caverns or been buried there, were scattered across the perimeter and she was very diligent and picking them all up and attempting to draw a cluster map in her mind.
RE: and the desolate moorland below - Dirge - November 21, 2018
He persisted in drawing a little closer to the timber, perhaps to imply that he would test his fate on that day. The sloping fringes did everything they could to welcome him in, even teasing that he may have been able to find refuge along the sparse wood that the wolves did not claim. He lingered there all cloaked in autumn midst an increasingly defined start of winter; his steps would have been more precise in their silence if not for the faintest crunch of compacting snow. It was these sort of places he found he was wary and weary of; there were only so many times he could skirt across field to forest and back again before giving into tender urges of complacency. So different yet so similar, occasionally worth the while.
It wasn't in his heart today to seek out whatever hidden gems it may have held, though reasonably the world worked in a different way. It cared not for what he desired or had necessity for. The world simply presented him with a time and a place and in this case, this rather unfortunate case he thought as he laid eyes on a child, the world was certainly there to mock him. All at once his steps eased into a halt, squaring and centering the wayward youth that seemed oblivious the fact that they were not alone.
The stranger from the tarn had not been mistaken—this valley was teeming with children.
Dirge did not hesitate to draw awareness to himself in the form of an uneasy growl. There was nothing negative to be had about it—the unease was all his, the tone inquiring and meant to lend pause. Presumably the youngster had ventured a little further than the claim it was so familiar with and he could hardly fault them. Familiar grounds were inherently dull after a while... and generally where there were young, there were those overprotective sorts.
RE: and the desolate moorland below - Nunataq - November 24, 2018
That's it! That had to be it! Nunataq's face lit up and her tail went like a propeller, when she pinpointed the exact spot, where either the dead thing was buried or had lied there for a while, before being carried away or eaten by someone else. She began to dig with such focus and diligence, which she rarely showed during the lessons her parent figures were giving. Only rarely they succeeded in bringing up something that would catch the girl's interest and be easy for her to understand. Most of the time the girl was better off doing independent self-studies by observing others and learning from her own experience. It was a hit-or-miss approach to the world and learning. It had not failed her so far, but she had not yet been in a truly dangerous situation either.
However, her work was interrupted by a growl and a cloud of smell wafting towards her. Reluctantly she paused and leaned up from the hole she had been digging to see, who was this person and whether he was someone important. First look, first conclusion - definitely not one of Bearclaw wolves or Lost Creek Hollow. She did not know all of them by names and had only a vague impression of their general looks, but her instinct for "us" and "them" was very strong and did not make mistakes. Second look - for whatever reason he was uneasy in her presence. For an adult like him it was not too pronounced, because, what could possibly grown-up wolves have to be scared of. Which lead her to the conclusion three - was there something that she should be aware of?
The fields around them were empty, no scent corridors, waves, gusts or whirlwinds that would speak of immediate danger. No sounds that would imply that besides both of them there were others around. And finally no - so called - mental presence here (that is the feeling, when you know that someone else is here too). Aside from her and the stranger's spirit, no one else was occupying this corner of the universe. So... could it be that he was wary of her? Nunataq kept her head low and body language neutral, as she drew nearer to the wolf, in order to do a proper greeting and find out, who he was.
RE: and the desolate moorland below - Dirge - November 28, 2018
His presence and advisement did not deter the child, and it was with increasing dismay he watched her draw closer. Interested in him, little surprise there; he wondered if he had done nothing at all if she would have simply continued her search in another section, leaving him to pass on undetected. It was a calculation not thought of until then, but also a risk any way he looked at it. His frame stiffened momentarily before some slack found its way in, though his hackles prickled in response.
”Turn back, child,” he said, ”there's nothing for you to find beyond here.” A gentler command than a warning growl, but another warning all the same. But perhaps to call her a child wasn't entirely true either—her approach revealed that maybe all that was child about her was her age and the way she carried herself. Beyond her, his eyes made a cursory scan of the horizon, but they were still alone.
RE: and the desolate moorland below - Nunataq - December 09, 2018
He spoke again and Nunataq stoppedd in her tracks, tilting her head to the side as she processed, what he was telling her. Not that it made any sense, but the incident with Stigmata had taught her that just maybe it was not worth risking of being pounced at and pinned to the ground again. What she could draw out from the way he talked, was that he was calm, confident and not hostile. He also did not seem to be harbouring any sudden, unpleasant plans on attacking her. And yet there was not welcome in his voice, rather a request to slow down.
This she did then, by sitting down at the same spot, where she had stopped. But since no one had forbidden her to look, her gaze was locked on the man, taking in his every features and trying to read more about him from a distance.
I do not mind this being a short thread. You can wrap up in your next post, if you wish.