With the brunt of the Dragon's forces out to visit the maplewood, Seregryn had been tasked to stay back. She did not wish to stay back, which only meant she would be ignoring the orders of her heda — but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. She planned to be back before the war was over; hopefully with some sort of prize to hide away among the dark recesses of the territory, where only she could access it. Something fine, something beautiful maybe.
Seregryn didn't bother with the river this time. If anyone was there, they would've been wiped out by the esteemed warriors of Drageda. The mere thought of them enjoying the carnage of war made her bitter, and with each passing moment the girl was growing more agitated. The fact she was missing out was horrendous. It was the worst experience (or non-experience) of her short life!
Before long her anger had powered her across a far-off meadow, and then she headed north towards the nearby ridge. Her desire to see the battle was second only to her own survival; if Thuringwethil caught her doing anything outside the bounds of her orders, she assumed she would be penalized. Or perhaps Seregryn could play up her youth? Whatever came of her adventure, it was her adventure. Nobody could control where she went or what she did — least of all the heda, even if the girl respected her.
The ridge was populated by the sparse remains of trees. It smelled thickly of death, and upon scouting beyond the stonework of the ridge, Seregryn was taken aback by how ruined the landscape appeared. She wondered what had caused such upheaval. As she passed beneath the twisted black trunk of a long-dead tree, something shifted inside of the remains and she heard a crunch — and then through dashing hastily out of the way, Sere managed to narrowly avoid being smote by a falling chunk of something which had been lodged up high. Curious, she reached out with her snout to inspect the new pile, but dared not get too close.
Seregryn didn't bother with the river this time. If anyone was there, they would've been wiped out by the esteemed warriors of Drageda. The mere thought of them enjoying the carnage of war made her bitter, and with each passing moment the girl was growing more agitated. The fact she was missing out was horrendous. It was the worst experience (or non-experience) of her short life!
Before long her anger had powered her across a far-off meadow, and then she headed north towards the nearby ridge. Her desire to see the battle was second only to her own survival; if Thuringwethil caught her doing anything outside the bounds of her orders, she assumed she would be penalized. Or perhaps Seregryn could play up her youth? Whatever came of her adventure, it was her adventure. Nobody could control where she went or what she did — least of all the heda, even if the girl respected her.
The ridge was populated by the sparse remains of trees. It smelled thickly of death, and upon scouting beyond the stonework of the ridge, Seregryn was taken aback by how ruined the landscape appeared. She wondered what had caused such upheaval. As she passed beneath the twisted black trunk of a long-dead tree, something shifted inside of the remains and she heard a crunch — and then through dashing hastily out of the way, Sere managed to narrowly avoid being smote by a falling chunk of something which had been lodged up high. Curious, she reached out with her snout to inspect the new pile, but dared not get too close.
Please be aware, this character is not a wolf-dog cross of any kind.
Her colors and patterns are inspired by Belgian Malinois dogs, but she is 100% wolf.
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Messages In This Thread
head like a hole - by Seregrýn - April 21, 2016, 06:35 PM
RE: head like a hole - by Azreal - May 06, 2016, 02:03 AM
RE: head like a hole - by Seregrýn - May 07, 2016, 01:54 PM