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+--- Thread: Bitterroot Valley who's never left home, who's never struck out? (/showthread.php?tid=66379)
who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Angel Oak - September 30, 2025
She felt so stupid. Why hadn't sure turned back as soon as she'd turned her ankle in the marsh? It was just that the cold was so bitter and arresting, she hadn't even realized she was injured instead of just sore.
Angel had tucked herself into a bed of dried, crunchy grass to rest. The bloody stick that'd she'd pulled from her paw lay glinting, wetly, on the hardpacked earth beside her. The bloody hole it'd come from was between her toes, and extended (a far as she could tell, from the aching in the joint) up to her wrist. She was grooming it as best as she could, laving away blood as it trickled free. It seemed she wouldn't be bleeding out from this injury, but only time would tell if infection would take her.
And it was definitely, definitely too sore to walk on for very long. She'd found that out the hard way when the limb had given out on her, and she'd rolled the opposite shoulder in an effort to keep from falling flat on her face. She was officially lame, and there was no way she was making it back home in time for supper. No way she was making it home at all, in fact, unless she got help.
Swallowing down her tears, Angel Oak tipped her head back and howled. She was somewhere close to other wolves, she knew — she just had to hope that they were friendly.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Sega - October 03, 2025
The call threaded through the valley, thin and aching, and Sega’s head rose from where he lingered beneath the pines. His golden eyes narrowed, ears pivoting toward the cry. It was not the call of strength, but of pain—sour and salt-sweet, marked with fear.
He moved. Heavy paws pressed into the frost, each step rolling with the quiet certainty of a mountain cat. His scar-lined muzzle lifted to taste the air, and soon the scent reached him: blood, sharp and coppery, carried with the faint musk of a woman.
When he found her, she was folded into the brittle grass, a pale shape rimmed in red. His gaze dropped to the wound, then rose back to her face. He came slow, careful, his massive shoulders hunched so as not to loom, but still there was no hiding the size of him—the breadth of chest, the scars that crossed his hide.
Sega’s voice came rough.
You hurt.
He paused, golden eyes steady.
You call… I come.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Angel Oak - October 03, 2025
No one had taught Angel Oak how to be afraid of wolves. Perhaps she ought to have learned all on her own, when she'd been just a young girl and another just like her had been stolen from her pack. But, though she retained an instinctive wariness and a healthy suspicion of strangers, it had never really been fear.
It wasn't now, either. Instead, Angel felt only relief as the pale, hulking figure came into view. The wind swirled and eddied, bringing his scent to her just faintly on the breeze. It was a scent she'd been catching the whole time she'd traveled along the outskirts of the valley, and the semi-familiarity of it further calmed her.
She hauled herself to stand on her own four paws as he approached, her tail whisking politely at her hocks.
"I am," she replied, bemused by the greeting, and by the slightly broken common that he spoke. Her tail wagged again in encouragement. "I was hoping there was someone in the area with healing experience," she told him, confident enough. She tried to speak slowly, in case he struggled with understanding the language. "Or just someone to lean on while I heal — I don't want to be alone like this."
She did not think to offer up anything in return. She felt it intrinsic in the request that she would do her best to be helpful and not too much of a burden, but being an altruistic individual herself, she saw no problem with asking for such altruism in turn, when she needed it.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Sega - October 11, 2025
Sorry for the wait ;-;
Sega’s head tilted as she spoke, his ears twitching toward the slow rhythm of her voice. She did not smell of danger—only blood, damp soil, and weariness. He studied her a moment longer, the wind pulling through his fur, carrying her scent to him again.You far from home,he said at last, his words low, rough-edged.
Wind carry your hurt.
He stepped closer, deliberate but not imposing, the weight of his paws pressing soft into the brittle grass. His gaze dropped to her paw, where the scent of blood lingered thick.
No healer here,he went on, his accent thick, his common halting between breaths.
But… I help. You lean.
He turned his shoulder toward her, solid and broad, an unspoken invitation.
Golden eyes flicked briefly to the horizon, then back to her.
Valley safe,he murmured.
You rest. Not alone.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Angel Oak - October 15, 2025
He was almost unnervingly attentive while she spoke. She was accustomed to the much more dynamic conversations she had with her village. The oddity of it made her tail twitch as if to reassure the man, or perhaps herself, that they could still be friends despite the language barrier. She worried, though, that she would not be understood, and that she might be unwelcome for that fact.
But he welcomed her, in a voice she likened on a whim to a waterfall — deep and rhythmic and sure.
"Thank you," she breathed, her tone firm and fervent. She flashed a broad but tired smile up at him as she hobbled forward, setting her shoulder against his. "I'll do what I can to repay the kindness," she assured him, stealing another glance up at his face. "My name's Angel, by the way."
Her paws ached and she worried, still, that she might die from this wound — but things were looking up. And this kindness made her heart feel full.
She was ready to be off — off to wherever he had come from, she supposed.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Sega - October 22, 2025
Sega shifted his weight slightly as her shoulder pressed into his, steadying her without effort. Her warmth against his fur was slight—fragile, like something the wind might carry away if he weren’t careful.
Angel,he repeated, testing the shape of it on his tongue. His voice came low, roughened by the cold, but not unkind.
I am Sega.
He glanced down at her paw again, then to the slope ahead. The climb was not steep, but the frost would make it cruel if she stumbled. So, he moved slowly, his pace set to match hers.
When she spoke of repayment, he only gave a faint shake of his head.
No debt,he said simply.
Hunter help traveler. That is way.His words came broken, but his tone left no room for protest.
The valley stretched open below them now, mist curling between the trees and pale grass glinting with ice. Sega paused to let her breathe, his golden eyes sweeping the quiet expanse before them.
You rest here soon,he murmured, nodding toward a sheltered rise ahead.
Den's warm there. You stay, heal.
Then, after a heartbeat, a flicker of something like humor softened his expression.
Maybe then,he added,
you tell me story. Where Angel come from.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Angel Oak - October 23, 2025
Angel filed the name away, pleased by the sound of it, and then smiled indulgently to herself when her offer was waved away. Debt was not what she'd had in mind, either, but she would still be sure to pitch in wherever she could. When she could.
Right then, rest sounded like just what she needed.
"Thank you," she said again, just because she was overwhelmed by the sentiment. She was still worried about infection, but her chances of survival already felt so much better with a companion nearby.
The wanderer had to save her breath as they started the slow climb. It wasn't too steep and her muscles were strong and sure, but the way that she had to move left her sometimes gasping in pain. Certainly, the cold did not help. She hoped that she would feel warm again once the shock of it all began to wear off.
"Gracious!" she said when they reached the top, collapsing in a heap with her sides heaving. It was colder still on the ground, and she shivered a bit as she imagined how much colder the weather might grow. Her blue eyes lifted to find Sega once more. "I've never been so far north," she admitted to the man, curling in on herself to conserve warmth despite her desire to sprawl. "I'm from Moontide — southwest of here. I've done a lot of exploring, but usually down the coast!"
She blew out a shivering breath.
"Are you from this place?" she asked him, though she thought he must be from quite a bit further away.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Sega - October 28, 2025
Sega lowered himself beside her, the weight of his frame sinking into the frost-hardened grass. His breath came in slow clouds, golden eyes soft beneath the heavy ridge of his brow as he listened.
Moontide,he echoed, tasting the word like salt on his tongue.
Far… south.His gaze drifted to the horizon she had come from, as if he might see her coast through the mist. Then, quietly, he shook his head.
Not here,he said, the words broken but sure.
I… not born here.
He lifted his muzzle toward the north, where the wind rolled down from the peaks like a great sigh.
I born in Big Sky,he murmured, voice low and rough.
Far, far place. Ice, wind, no tree. Only hunt, only family.His expression softened, almost wistful.
I come here long ago. Valley kind to me. Give food. Quiet.
His gaze returned to her, steady and warm now despite the cold.
You stay,he said, nodding once.
Maybe you like north too.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Angel Oak - October 29, 2025
Angel was grateful for Sega's warmth beside her, scooching a little closer to better absorb it into her own body. It made it easier to pay attention to what he was saying, even as she laid her head down and watched him through tired, half-lifded eyes.
"Further north than this?" she asked, her tail thumping the ground. "My family isn't so different," she told him. "Just hunting and being together. I learned to trade and to navigate, too, though. And I learned how to prepare pelts."
She'd lost her small pack in the river. She wished she had it now, just so that she'd have a soft comfort from home nearby.
"Well, I'll have to go back when I'm better, at least to let them know I'm alright. But..." She sighed. "I've been wondering for a while what I'm meant to do. It's hard to just stay at home. I want to find something of my own. Make new friends, fall in love..."
She blinked sleepily, her breaths coming steadier as she began to feel warmer.
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Sega - October 31, 2025
The soft sound of her voice carried easily between them, and though her words came in smooth, practiced rhythm, he caught only pieces—family, hunt, trade, love. His ears twitched, and he turned his head to listen more closely.
Mm,he rumbled, deep in his chest, his accent thick as ever.
North, yes. Much cold. Big Sky land. Family hunt seals, caribou. Live close. Quiet life.
His eyes softened as she spoke of her own home, of the small comforts she missed. He knew that ache well—the empty space where voices used to be, the long nights when silence felt like loss.
You strong,he said simply.
River take many. You still here.His tone carried quiet respect, and a kind of rough tenderness only a man who had lived through long winters could hold.
When her voice drifted to gentler things—to love, to dreams—Sega’s head tilted slightly, and one brow lifted. A faint breath of laughter escaped him, not mocking but surprised, almost fond.
Love, hm?he murmured, golden eyes glinting in the dim.
You young, little one. World big. Cold.His gaze lingered on her face, softer now.
But dream good thing. Keep heart warm.
He settled beside her again, letting the stillness fold around them.
Rest now,Sega said, voice low and steady.
Tomorrow, you heal more. Dream… maybe love come later.
fade here for a new one?
RE: who's never left home, who's never struck out? - Angel Oak - October 31, 2025
Young? Yes. But — "'m not..." Angel yawned wide. "... little," she mumbled, finally letting herself relax.
Angel descended swiftly into rest.
It would be weeks before she fully awakened again.