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The Heartwood obsidian flake - Printable Version

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obsidian flake - Muskrat - October 27, 2024


in the meeting of glen-land to heartwood was where muskrat found the third small shadow moving unattended. her departure from the mountains had at first been in pursuit of another hunt, more meat added to caches for the coming cold.

yet swiftly it had become something else; she had lost sight of the elk-pair and padded on anyway, tongue lolling.

night to day to night to morning; she came across many scents entangled and fell far back from the glen. among the trees she watched dozens of others come and go, realizing quickly that she would not have been hardly noticed had she walked out among them. what was this? what was its purpose?

to @Hex she would report the gathering, but not before muskrat spied a souvenir to explain her absence.

tiger-eye in the coming night, she moved noiselessly, letting no sound escape her lips as like an owl she swept down upon the poor rabbit that was @Alasdair and dragged him bodily back into the forest.

a scuffle; a bruising act to subdue him; and she was carrying off the ridge's latest captive. perhaps even their newest warrior — provided she had the boy's cooperation.



RE: obsidian flake - Alasdair - November 01, 2024

Life was a whirlwind when one was as young as Alasdair, or so he felt. One day, in adulthood, perhaps his reflections would be that of amusement, given that the whirlwind shifted from exploration, wonder, and learning, to something akin to survival and the search for happiness.

He was not so far tainted… yet.

So when the boy found a pinecone, he was toying with it—the pad of his paw feeling the edges and dips—a tongue darting out to taste the bitter tang of sap that clung to it. Eager to show this to his sisters—to mama @Nephele, he was about to scoop up this prize, when another rode down upon him like the Headless Horseman might have Ichabod Crane.

There was a yelp of surprise—a scuffle, as puppy teeth scoured for flesh wherever he could reach before a flurry of motions as he wriggled and tried to escape.

Muskrat’s prowess would not be matched by a three month old, as much as he willed it. It was the shocking taste of sap still on his tongue and how he wished to show his sisters that he thought of before he was knocked unconscious.