Fairspell Meadow the godspell

He was a thing not made for crossing mountains.

He came out the other side peeved, disheveled, and with a number of bloody cuts and bruises from trying to climb the accursed range all over again.

It was the mid of the morning when he finally said enough and laid down where his legs gave out. He could see the Mesa, Akashingo so close, but he was to rest dammit. The saluki sprawled on the grasses, wheezing and panting and all in all, acting as if he was to die within the next several minutes.

It was only when he caught his breath that he rolled to his stomach from his dramatic back sprawl, taking to cleaning the odd number of cuts to his legs and shoulders.

A strange scent threaded its way over the tall spires of the mountain. Not deer, not wolf, not even fox. Anselm snuffed and turned to @Emmerich in confusion.

They carried a few meters further when Anselm drew to an abrupt stop. His ears flipped forwards, eyes drawn to a figure collapsed upon the ground. It was smaller than his own stature, thin with a cervine build — and the selfsame owner of the scent they trailed.

Was it prey? Anselm looked to his brother in measuring silence.

Hunting with Anselm had not proven to be fruitful. The brothers found a strange scent and followed it a short ways until they happened upon a living creature the likes of which Emmerich had never seen before. His hawk-yellow eyes were intense on the strange being, the peculiar shape of its body. It was almost a wolf, without being anything like a wolf.

A small snort was made to Anselm.

Vhat is that thing? he hissed beneath his breath.

He caught no sight of the wolves, too focused on primping and cleaning himself up. It wasn’t easy being pretty, after all, but he managed well enough.

Akhtar finally licked the last cut-between his toes, gross and painful- clean, then gathered his limbs beneath him. He stood with a flick of his tail and a backwards sway of his body. Travel was tiring, as was standing when you had been laying down! He let out a little whuff of air, shaking out his coat, then looking to distant Akashingo.

It was, perhaps, time to begin walking again.

He looked to his paws with a disgusted noise.

Maybe in a minute though.

Anselm felt Emmerich's body heat radiate to his shoulder. Somehow the proximity was comforting as the two looked at the alien that graced their fields.

It was an alien, right?

His ear flicked back at Emmerich's question. I don't know. He whispered back, unable to take his eyes from the creature as it licked its toes, rose, and then shook out its fur in a surprisingly canid way. He was mesmerized most by that tail! It rose behind him like a silken fern, reminding him of those fiddlehead ferns he'd seen in the swamp. Think we could take it? Anselm didn't wait for an answer -- he was already crouched and inching his way towards the creature.

But the creature moved on, leaving the boys to their own. Anselm proposed they hunt the grasslands. Before long this place was empty, the two miscreants having returned where they came.