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+--- Thread: Whitefish River paper planes (/showthread.php?tid=474)
paper planes - Noah - September 20, 2013
Underneath the shade of trees and dappled in the fading light of the afternoon sun a young boy sat, head bowed as he picked at the prickles that were lodged between his toes. With soft grunts and snarls he extracted the annoyances one by one, wincing as he hit a cut or accidentally scraped his teeth against his tender paw pads. Having come from such a cosy family living in their safe home in the woods, Noah wasn't used to such pain that came from weeks of wandering - his legs ached, his stomach was empty and his fur was matted and covered in a layer of dirt. Yet he felt more alive than he ever did back at home. Alive but fearful. The wilderness had been nothing and everything Noah hoped it would be.
He had almost been killed countless times either by other wolves or fiercer creatures, as evidenced by his most recent scuffle with a badger that left him bleeding from his forehead. However, slowly, Noah had built up some knowledge on how to survive at least the night, and continue putting distance between himself and his former pack by day. But it was quickly becoming apparent that he was not built for the life of a lone wolf. He found himself missing his family sometimes, before roughly shaking that feeling off and reminding himself of the reasons why he had left in the first place. Besides, he was quite thoroughly lost now; the chances of turning back and finding his way home were slim to none.
Satisfied with his efforts, the boy placed his paws firmly on the ground again, feeling slight relief from not having sharp prickles digging into his skin anymore. They still ached though, the type of pain that could only be removed with time and rest. Noah could not rest, though, not yet. Bright eyes turned skywards and he studied the shifting colours of sunset, wondering how long he had before the forest would be covered in complete darkness and he would be forced to find a hiding spot for the night again.
RE: paper planes - Tonravik - September 22, 2013
| Tonravik moved throughout the dark forest, heading home. She had obtained what she had sought. Her mission being completed, she no longer needed to keep away from home any longer. This day, she would stake her claim. Sing to the Heavens. Let all know that they were established enough to truly begin, and they would be a force to be reckoned with. xxxxxxShe sees a stranger, pale and alone, nearby. Tonravik does not stop for him; her newest mission was to return home in good time, and she was doing well enough in that so far. There had been no interruptions. The bear of a wolf pushes on, in his line of sight and clearly on the move, going onward as though he were not even there. Speak! |
RE: paper planes - Noah - September 22, 2013
The sound of heavy footfalls nearby suddenly caught his attention, causing the boy to look up and peer into the darkening forest as he tried to spy whatever had caused the noise. Noah's heart quickened as fear caught hold, worried that he had unknowingly wandered into the territory of a badger or wolverine. However, as he breathed in the scents drifting through on the breeze, he realised his company was familiar. At least, in species.
Suddenly, he spotted the stranger. A black shadow, almost bear-like, stalking through the woods. He sucked in a quick breath, realising he was painfully obvious to any predators. Had the other actually been a bear, he probably would have been an easy meal. Did bears eat wolves? Noah shook away the thought and focused on the dark wolf, watching as they strode onwards, seemingly paying him no heed. However, they were the first wolf the boy had seen in the flesh for days, so his attention was fully caught. They seemed to be in a hurry, however apart from the usual smells of rodents and insects, Noah couldn't smell any prey around. Perhaps they needed to get somewhere before nightfall? Curious, the boy slowly slinked into the undergrowth and took up a quick pace, intent on following the mysterious stranger, unaware that for all the effort he put in trying to remain hidden, he still stuck out like a sore thumb.
RE: paper planes - Tonravik - October 04, 2013
| The others step was silent. Were it not for the wind now being in her favor as she moved away, she would perhaps not have noted his following, too keen on arriving home and beginning her movement. For a minute longer, she presses on; but the scent does not change. It even grows stronger. The furs on her nape prickle, and it took the entirety of her mass two seconds to shift around entirely to respond to her pale follower. It was true that they stuck out like a sore thumb; he was an easy target to lock onto, white and bright in the darkening of the hour. Tonravik charges toward him like a bull. Her intent for now was merely to (attempt to) bowl him over and dominate him. xxxxxxSilence was something that often made others speak. Her lips coiled and rolled backwards, her yellowing fangs (perhaps yellower than most her age due to the excess blood she had intentionally shed in battles that others may not have experienced by two) revealed to him, parted slightly in the promise to give his throat a kiss should he not use his seconds wisely. She was not sure if she had knocked him over or even made contact in her violent haze, but she kept her defenses with her; her eyes were narrowed and she attempted to retain her balance, lobes melted to the top of her head (though they thrust aggressively forward in forewarning prior to the attack at all) and jaw hovering over her own throat protectively, head tucked slightly as to protect the regions her jaw could not. |