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+--- Thread: Broken Boulder the slow approach of the sun (/showthread.php?tid=35187)
the slow approach of the sun - Shanksnout - June 14, 2019
It was early morning, before dawn. The sky was turning grey with the slow approach of the sun. Ione needed to find a place to sleep for the day. It would be a long wait til dusk, as the summer months meant that the daylight hours were longer. Luckily, summer also meant that there was more prey available. She had been successful in her last few hunts and was currently satisfied as far her hunger went.
She was in a clearing of the woods and ahead of her was a massive boulder that seemed to be cleaved in two, with the halves leaning against one another. It could be dangerous. The two halves could collapse on top of her while she slept, but it looked as if they had been that way since time immemorial. She would probably be fine. She approached the broken boulder and saw a dark entrance in the crevice between the two halves, big enough to allow someone twice her size to get in. She crept inside, massive ears swiveling on her head and nose twitching; she didn’t want to be caught unawares. However, it seemed like no one was here.
The entrance sloped downward into a network of small tunnels that lead to small dens. Inside, dried grass and moss crunched underpaw. Old bedding. Someone had once made this place home, but their scent was nonexistent. Whoever had been here before was long gone. Ione lay down in one of the cool dens and went to sleep.
RE: the slow approach of the sun - Bat - June 17, 2019
She rose with the sun and set off to find breakfast, scouting east toward a grassland in search of small prey. Bat spent a few hours rousting rodents from their holes in the steppe, eating her fill and then hunting a few extra, to cache somewhere or take back to @Tristan if he was still around. Before she turned back, she set the brace of small, furry carcasses down and gave herself a moment to catch her breath and survey her surroundings.
Off in the distance to her left, she could see a colossal boulder silhouetted against the sky. Bat lifted her muzzle and sniffed idly in that direction, sure she caught the scent of a coyote. Prairie wolf, she mused, which seemed fitting, given the grassy plains. She looked down at the bloodied bodies, wondering if they might draw attention. Sure that they would, Bat began gathering her kills in her mouth once more, though it was a difficult business juggling all four with naught but her teeth.
RE: the slow approach of the sun - Shanksnout - June 17, 2019
The faint smell of blood awoke Ione some hours later. The metallic tang in her nose and the back of her throat covered the scent of wolf. All she smelled was blood. Curious, but cautious, she rose and made her way slowly and carefully to the entrance of the tunnels. Blood was usually a good indicator that something bad had happened, or was happening. She peeked out at the world, her body still hidden in the shadow of the crevice. The wind picked up, and now the scent of wolf filled her nose, as well. She cringed and almost turned around to head back down to the safety of the den, but hesitated.
Why was there the smell of blood with the smell of a wolf? Was the wolf injured? Had it killed prey? Had it killed another wolf? Ione had survived to adulthood because she was smart enough to avoid confrontations with wolves, among other large, predatory animals. Yet, her curiosity got the better of her. She would just trot over, close enough to see what was up, and then head off. Having made up her mind, she stepped outside of the shadow of the boulder and and scanned the horizon.
There, in the grass, was a dark figure—definitely a wolf, though not a fully grown one. This made her a bit more confident. Yearlings could be stupid. She picked her way carefully closer, letting out one sharp bark to warn the wolf that she was there, in case it somehow hadn’t noticed her. It would not do to startle a wolf, even if it was a yearling. She stood many yards back from it, her posture somewhat low to the ground, and one front paw lifted in mid-step, the easier to turn away lest the wolf charge her. The wolf had a few dead rodents in its jaws, she noted. That was the source of the blood smell. Now that she knew, she was keen to get away.
RE: the slow approach of the sun - Bat - June 17, 2019
She was so busy trying to pluck up her kills (a good problem to have, I guess, Bat thought), she didn't notice the coyote's approach. When a sharp bark rang through the air, she startled and the three small corpses she'd managed to wrangle tumbled from her mouth, rolling to rest beside the fourth. Her head snapped to the side, pewter eyes scouring the tall grasses. It took her a minute, yet finally she pinpointed the smaller canine's location.
Unlike some wolves, she knew, Bat didn't hate coyotes by default. If anything, they intrigued her. "Hey," she called out, glancing down at the meat at her paws, "wanna bite?" Sometimes you just had to admit defeat; she knew it'd be easier to transport three then four and Tristan would never even know the difference. "I have an extra," she added, pointing a dark gray toe at a large dead rat.
RE: the slow approach of the sun - Shanksnout - June 17, 2019
Ione’s bark startled the wolf, who dropped her dead rats. Ione’s muscles tensed, ready for some kind of retaliation, but none came. The young wolf found her and, instead of being angry, simply greeted her. Ione was suspicious at once. This could be a trap. Make her feel comfortable, make her think they were friends, then kill her when her defenses were down. The young wolf was now gesturing towards one of the rats she had dropped, asking if she wanted it. Ione glared at the wolf. “I am no fool,” she hissed. Still, she was never one to pass up free food. “Move away, or toss it to me. I will come no closer.” She did not want to become a wolf’s chew toy today.
RE: the slow approach of the sun - Bat - June 17, 2019
Did—did the coyote just hiss at her? Bat blinked and stared, then shook her head with a smile. "Sure thing," she replied to the mistrustful request. "I'll just—" Rather than finish her sentence, she bent down to pluck up the rat. As she straightened, she jerked her head so that the rodent went flying through the air in the coyote's general direction.
She wasn't trying to bean her (she was pretty sure it was a her) in the face, of course, but Bat would find it amusing if that ended up happening. More likely, the projectile would fall short or go wide. Bat wasn't exactly a marksman.