Wapun Meadow The delicate art of bird herding
Ghost in the woods
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#4
Sith'ari has informed me that they will be reactivating Siqsa's account. In the meantime, I'm gonna go ahead and try to move this along since it's getting kind of stagnant; Sith, feel free to hop in at any point. :) Sorry this got so long guys, I was a little bored with having either a successful outcome or having her fail. I figured why not halfway catch two birds for a twist lol?

"Tail up, stop. Tail to the side, get the bird. Got it, " she repeated in a whisper, Siqsa's shadowy length disappearing into the cover of undergrowth, somewhat anxiously. The fae could not restrain the slight tremors that trembled along her pale limbs, anticipation coiling in the pit of her gut. Liri's eyes flicked upwards at the encouragement, meeting a gaze as warm and green as summer - smiling kindly in thanks. 

The huntress slipped into a crouch, following a foot or so behind Sorin's extended tail. Padding after the dark wraith's silent footsteps as he burrowed into the tangle of brambles, the healer found herself grateful for the diminutive stature nature had afforded her, for the absence of her limb, as she squeezed through narrow gaps at Sorin's heels. 

The raven moved stealthily, broad paws placed with care upon the snowy floor of the forest. His large form dipped and weaved gracefully through the thicket, careful not to disturb the spiny branches. Liri could see his ebony auds flickering in her peripherals though her concentrated gaze was locked resolutely on the length of his tail.

Liri found herself imitating the Direwood's behavior subconsciously, though the sylph didn't pick up nearly as much information as he. Truly it seemed that Sorin listened to the very forest, responding to its prompts and cues. Renewed respect and admiration for the male caused her to glance up at the back of his onyx crown, lingering for a heartbeat.

The tiniest of noises and the plume of his tail swung right. Liri's gaze shot to the appendage before darting silently in that direction. 

The scent of pheasant lingered upon the branches but there was no sign of the fowl, no sound to be heard. The tundrian drew to a halt, head cocking as she breathed deeply - attempting to scent the bird if it was anywhere nearby. 

A soft rustle, the sound of a small talon upon dead leaves. 

Liri lunged to her left and promptly crashed to the ground as her phantom limb flared to life with a flash of fire. 

Darkness overtook the Blackfoot's vision. Blood pooled metallically upon her tongue, not that of the bird but her own. It was only fear of ruining the hunt that kept her from crying out. And caused her to sink her teeth into her own lip to smother her harsh breathing. Liri struggled to steady her breath as waves of pain rolled over her, slowly retreating to the stump at her hip to burrow into her bones. 

When at last it had ebbed to a bearable ache, the healer became aware of the heat gathering under her pelt and the cold sweat that had broken out across her skin. The healer became aware of another lighter pain digging into her ribs caused by a lumpy, uncomfortable object beneath her. 

The fae rose on shaky legs, rising to her paws to find the pheasant crumpled beneath her. She'd forgotten about her target during the flare, assuming it had fled. 

It was a hen, her soft brown feathers flecked with iridescent greens and purples that glinted lowly in the din. Liri appeared to have slammed into the ground right atop its hiding spot, crushing it to death before it even knew what hit it. The northron bit her bloody lip once more to stifle a laugh.

It wasn't exactly a traditional catch but it was food. 

Liri took the fowl gently in her jaws, withholding a hiss of pain as she bent, before padding back towards her friends. 

She came upon the pair as they were settling into position. She shot Siqsa a nod, indicating that she had retrieved the bird and he would need to select a new target from within the foliage. Liri drew to a halt by Sorin as his tail raised, resting the bird at her paws. 

She half-crouched, limbs shaking with pain as she lay in wait. The healer prayed to the spirits that Sorin wouldn't turn, wouldn't attempt to seek her gaze. Liri knew he would be able to read the agony throbbing under her skin and she had no desire to disrupt his carefully laid strategies. 

Her teeth ground together silently as she readied to pounce, a stab of relief shooting through her as Sorin's tail dropped once more. The two shadows burst forth, causing a flock of the winged creatures to take to flight. Sorin's flanks bunched beneath him as he reared back on his hind legs to snatch a pheasant from the air. Liri caught a glimpse of Siqsa as she dove forward, angling her body so as to avoid the males. A collision with one of their powerful bodies would be enough to knock her breathless. Unfortunately, the dragon was blocked from view and the sylph was unable to see how he fared. 

Her mouth closed around one of the lower flying birds, one that had yet to truly gain speed with the desperate flaps of its wings. Liri felt teeth render flesh, tasted fresh blood on her tongue. A soft crunch accompanied the snap of her jaws just before it slipped free and fell to the ground. 

The injury was not quite enough to kill it though a broken wing and bleeding wounds prevented it from going anywhere. It called out softly in distress as the healer thudded against the ground nearby. 

The waif remained where she was, giving in to the arthritic pain that demanded to be felt. Her eyes flicked to the injured pheasant but she made no move to dispatch it for she had not the strength. 

The journey to the meadow in the mire of snow, the hunt - it had all been harder than she expected. Her lungs burned with the cold air, a lingering reminder of the disease that had nearly claimed her life, and nausea rolled in her gut as a tight band closed around her chest. She'd not quite grown used to not having her leg, even if it had been damaged beyond repair prior to the lightning strike. 

She rose unsteadily after a moment, attempting to shake off the remnants of pain that throbbed through her with every step. It would pass soon or so she hoped. 

Her gaze lifted to the other two, hoping she had concealed most of her ailments from them, checking to see that they were alright. 
"i'll keep you here when I lose my mind."
 
 
Messages In This Thread
The delicate art of bird herding - by Sorin - February 21, 2019, 02:08 AM
RE: The delicate art of bird herding - by Síff - February 21, 2019, 02:37 AM
RE: The delicate art of bird herding - by Sorin - March 11, 2019, 10:05 PM
RE: The delicate art of bird herding - by Síff - March 15, 2019, 01:24 AM