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+--- Thread: Northstar Vale zinc (/showthread.php?tid=37403)
zinc - Moony - November 05, 2019
it feels a little like giving up. maybe she's close—home could be just over one of the great stone walls, if only she knew the right way. but the time on her own, coupled with the drastic lack of prey has her weak, and it's not like she can ask for help getting back. she'd seen the look on Valette's, Niamh's, and so many other's faces when she'd mentioned the name blackfeather. it had done more than dissuade her from seeking any help finding it again, it had introduced seeds of doubt that wondered if the wolves of the wood had ulterior motives.
in any case, she does not know when she'll see it, or them, again. the longer she's away, the less she finds herself driven to find them. she misses her brother, mother, deeply and sharply still, but the moments when she feels the true extent of her loss are growing further apart.
she crouches in the thin layer of snow that's gathered across an exposed glade, sniffing at the mess of blood and feathers that signifies that something, likely some avian predator, had made a kill here. her hunger twists like a dagger in her side, and she laps at the bloodied snow as if it might offer some relief.
RE: zinc - Andromaque - November 05, 2019
She had spent the past few days growing accustomed to the vale, trying to learn its landmarks and the twists and turns of the valley. Blanketed in snow, everything looked familiar. Andromaque was determined, however -- she had memorized sprawling, naked trees and boulders rising from the snow, had found and followed creek beds filled with snow. Now, her nose was following the scent of a rabbit which had crept from its den and into the cold.
It did not take her long to track it, paw prints in the snow a key to where it was headed. She followed it until she found the rabbit perched near a felled tree and crept closer, closer, closer before springing into the chase, following it until pale teeth pierced its neck with one swift blow.
Andromaque carried the limp body in her jaws as she headed back to where most of the wolves had gathered, following her own prints.
Iron and the scent of another wolf filled the air, and she saw the blood-stained snow before noticing the other canine. Part of her felt some inkling of empathy and she shifted her grip on the rabbit, its body now grown cold.
The russet wolf made her approach, snow crunching underpaw. "Do you want to share?" she asked quickly, deciding that she might as well be kind. The winter was hard enough for a pack, and even harder for a lone wolf.