less to see, further from the sunspires. nothing here to bother her on the plains. not sure what the appeal of a mountain is to a wolf – seems more a place for the cougars – she’s not opposed to giving it up. better places to hunt, freer streams to find game.
the trail takes her over prairies and creeks and through woods. up to the curve of a quiet crater. no pack here, far as she can tell; not something to be too concerned about anyways. she takes the slope up, thick with trees and grass; follows it to the edge of a sunken lake.
blue sky above her, she spends a quiet hour fishing. pulls a few trout from the water, in the end; just finishing the last when someone screams. a body crashes limply into the surface, spraying an arc of water into the air.
borya rears back like a startled horse, pulls herself to her full near eight feet; muzzle wrinkling back, but there’s nothing else above her. edge of the cliff, sky studded with cloud; at the very top, a smudge of cream and brown, sliding along the rock.
quiet, now. she huffs. the sound rolls itself from her chest and into the open air. lowers herself back to her paws, eyes cast over the water – no use fishing now. body doesn’t rise to the surface, though. blood edges the air; her tongue rolls out to taste it, and then back.
an irritated sigh ruffles the fur on her shoulders. wolf or not, shouldn’t just let someone drown.
she splashes into the water with little grace. hard to have much, at her size. it picks her up, bears her along. at the center of the lake, she pauses, twists down like she’s searching for salmon instead of wolf; body’s not too deep now, hard to tell if it’s alive or dead. even if it was, she’s come this far already. no use wasting meat.
her jaws wrap around the closest limb. gentle as she can be, but living, he’s got more to worry about than broken skin. with a heavy wrench of her head, pulls him up and towards the surface; drags him onto the sandy edge of the bank, dripping water and blood from the wound on his face.
his to take care of. borya prods his body with one oversized paw – breathing, if only barely. won't be her meal today. life should be enough for him, for now; she knows a little of the trade, but there’s no herbs on hand, even if she cared to spend the time.
the trail takes her over prairies and creeks and through woods. up to the curve of a quiet crater. no pack here, far as she can tell; not something to be too concerned about anyways. she takes the slope up, thick with trees and grass; follows it to the edge of a sunken lake.
blue sky above her, she spends a quiet hour fishing. pulls a few trout from the water, in the end; just finishing the last when someone screams. a body crashes limply into the surface, spraying an arc of water into the air.
borya rears back like a startled horse, pulls herself to her full near eight feet; muzzle wrinkling back, but there’s nothing else above her. edge of the cliff, sky studded with cloud; at the very top, a smudge of cream and brown, sliding along the rock.
quiet, now. she huffs. the sound rolls itself from her chest and into the open air. lowers herself back to her paws, eyes cast over the water – no use fishing now. body doesn’t rise to the surface, though. blood edges the air; her tongue rolls out to taste it, and then back.
an irritated sigh ruffles the fur on her shoulders. wolf or not, shouldn’t just let someone drown.
she splashes into the water with little grace. hard to have much, at her size. it picks her up, bears her along. at the center of the lake, she pauses, twists down like she’s searching for salmon instead of wolf; body’s not too deep now, hard to tell if it’s alive or dead. even if it was, she’s come this far already. no use wasting meat.
her jaws wrap around the closest limb. gentle as she can be, but living, he’s got more to worry about than broken skin. with a heavy wrench of her head, pulls him up and towards the surface; drags him onto the sandy edge of the bank, dripping water and blood from the wound on his face.
his to take care of. borya prods his body with one oversized paw – breathing, if only barely. won't be her meal today. life should be enough for him, for now; she knows a little of the trade, but there’s no herbs on hand, even if she cared to spend the time.
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Messages In This Thread
A new world for you, my friend - by Lokie - August 03, 2020, 07:42 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Monty - August 03, 2020, 07:50 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Lokie - August 03, 2020, 08:01 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Monty - August 03, 2020, 08:09 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Lokie - August 03, 2020, 08:20 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Monty - August 03, 2020, 08:28 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Lokie - August 03, 2020, 08:43 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Borya - August 03, 2020, 09:16 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Monty - August 03, 2020, 09:19 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Lokie - August 03, 2020, 09:38 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Borya - August 03, 2020, 10:07 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Lokie - August 04, 2020, 07:16 AM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Borya - August 04, 2020, 03:23 PM
RE: A new world for you, my friend - by Lokie - August 04, 2020, 05:08 PM