Porcupine Ridge Dreaming of Spring

The white female, padded through Porcupine Ridge, feeling the crisp cold winter ground beneath her paws.  Illea found herself wondering what it would be like in Spring.  When everything bloomed with life and colors again.

Illea paused for a moment.  Spring.  The word always reminded her of her sister.  The female found herself wondering how Spring was doing know, and what had ever happened to her sister.  Maybe she would find out one day, maybe not.  Illea kept padding through the Ridge, but paused for a moment scenting the winter air.

Diane, still trying to find her bearings around the cold and foreign Porcupine Ridge, was now finding it less and less difficult to cope with the changes that had been thrust into her existence. Her wrecked sleeping schedule and the adjoining nightmares often left her tired day to day, but she was discovering reserves of energy within herself, fueled by a deep curiosity to know more about her home and acquaint herself with a new way of life.

She hadn't fallen in the last two days, which was a good sign, she supposed, but her movements were definitely more slow and cautious than she cared to be. Padding along an obtuse stretch of ground, she found herself smelling a packmate—unfamiliar to her nose—and she made her way towards the feminine scent with an eager trot. "Hi," she chirped, coming to stand several feet away from the snowy she-wolf. A small twinge of envy fluttered in her chest, and Diane found herself wishing she could have such an immaculate coat.

"I'm Diane."

Illea turned at the sound of a Hi.  “Hello.”  She yipped back eyeing the other female with curious eyes.  As the female gave her name.  Diane.  Illea responded enthusiastically.  “I’m Illea, nice to meet you.”  Her tail gave a little wag, happy to meet a new pack member.

Illea. Her name was as pretty as her pelt, Diane thought. She wagged her tail in return, remembering her smile a moment behind the normal cue of the expression. She was just getting used to having it again. "Yes, it is. I'm actually really happy to meet you," she admitted, hoping to make better impressions on the few she hadn't met than she had previously with others. Those had been disaster episodes.

"I haven't distracted you from anything, have I?" she asked, aware that she could've walked up on the pale she-wolf in the middle of her hunt or something equally as probable. She hadn't exactly surveyed the situation before approaching. Diane wondered if she needed to fix that habit...

Yes, you did distract me from something, but oh well.  Illea thought to herself, but didnt mention it instead she a little more kindly.  “Nice to meet you too, and I was trying to hunt, but I can’t find anything or any scents right now, so I’m currently not up to anything so you fine.”  Illea complemented, then commented in a friendly tone.

Illea was accommodating, if not kind, and Diane was more than grateful to spend time with anyone that would let her. The foreign Cove wolf sometimes felt like a burden, too different from the Ridge wolves, but this had not stopped her from trying to fit in or build relationships. If anything, her weaknesses encouraged her to work harder at this.

She perked at the prospect of a hunt—thinking this might be a good opportunity to practice. "Well, I could.. I mean if you'd like, I could always hunt with you..." No stranger to rejection, she wouldn't be surprised if the fair, ivory maiden didn't need or want the help of a beach-native.

Illea considered letting Diane hunt with her, silent for a brief moment, but then the white female bobbed her head.  "Sure, of course.  I' sure that would be fun.  Although first we need to find a prey scent."  Illea remarked.

The white female lowered her nose to the ground, already searching for scents that could be there as she waited for Diane to responded. I hope we find something in this barren winter cold.  Illea thought silently to herself, yet hopeful still.

"Right, of course," she remarked after the winter-furred wolf, feeling loathe to admit that if they were hunting anything other than small prey, she wouldn't be a very talented partner. Diane was still getting acquainted with her land legs. But even in this moment she didn't truly miss the sand or the water—not yet anyway—she wouldn't let herself miss the Cove yet. Its inhabitant, yes. But not the place.

As they began sniffing around for some markings or trails that would lead them into a hunt, Diane glanced at Illea and asked, conversationally: "How long have you been here on the Ridge?"

Illea continued to sniff the cold barren ground, but her ears perked at Diane’s question, asking how long she had been in Porcupine Ridge.  How long has it been really?  Illea stopped sniffing around for a moment to think, thinking silently to herself, a month about maybe?  She decided to go with that.

“Around a month now, I have been on the Ridge Diane. How about you?”  Illea responded and then asked in a fair tone.  Then resumed the pair’s prey scent search, scenting the air and ground once again.

A month! This made Diane feel less intimidated by the situation as a whole. She didn't feel so out of place being new herself. "Oh, I've only been here a few suns—a week, maybe," she offered, realizing that she hadn't been paying very close attention to the passage of time. Even in the lonely moments, she had tried not to do any counting or recall how long ago it had been since Tagg had found her.

"Did you come from far away?" The line of questioning was dangerous, if only because it could be turned back on her; and Diane never felt very much like talking about her birthplace. Sometimes she forgot about the tragedy that had been bestowed upon it, but that was just her consciousness blocking it from her active memory. When she was sleeping, the memories came falling in—more powerful than the event itself. 

She crossed a scent just then, not recognizing that it was the signature smell of a raccoon. Her tail picked up, waving. "I think I got something," she said, motioning for Illea to join her.

“I come from Canada near the Washington border.”  Illea explained briefly.  The female was just about to ask where Diane came from when Diane said she had a prey scent.  Illea happily trotted over, sniffing the spot where Diane had picked up the scent, leaning her head down.

Illea tongue lolled happily.  “Raccoon right?”  She asked for confirmation.  Anxiousness coursed through her vains and blood as the snow white female felt the excitement of the hopefully soon to be hunt.

Though Diane did not truly understand the name and location of Illea's origins, the sentiment of providing it was all in one same. She was internally grateful that Illea was distracted quick enough by the prospect of a hunt, that she didn't return the question. The scent had luckily skewered them both. Tail up and wagging, she reacted physically to her companion's excitement—meaning this was good. She had done something good.

"I've never hunted raccoon before," she admitted, avoiding entirely the fact that she didn't even know what a raccoon was. "Are they easy prey?" she asked, beginning to follow the trail slowly into a wintry corpse of trees.

Illea stopped in her tracks suddenly, remembering what she had been told long ago, something she had almost forgetting, before she had heard Diane say Raccoon one more time.  A fact of rabies and how wolves caught it, that her mother had told her when she was young.  “Many raccoons give rabies.”  Illea murmured in a trance to herself.  Suddenly looking nervous.  “Maybe we shouldn’t hunt the raccoon."

Illea stopped walking entirely, her expression turning grave. Diane paused a few steps ahead, turning back to cock her head questioningly at the pale she-wolf, gold eyes searching her worried face. The trail they were on certainly smelled edible—what was wrong? Without having to ask this aloud, her packmate answered in a distant voice, as if she were recalling something (or as if she had read Diane's mental question; though this was preposterous), and the naive Cove wolf found her confusion deepening.

"Rabies?" she echoed, only personally familiar with cold-like sicknesses and the bloating that was a result of spending too much time in the water. Illea had said give as if rabies were some type of present, but her tone had suggested something completely different. What came to Diane's mind at the foreboding sentence was something like a vicious flea. "Are rabies fast? Can it catch us without the raccoon?"

Illea shook her head and racked her memories for a moment trying to remember the few facts she knew about rabies.  "No.  Rabies is a disease that animals carry .  It gets carried through blood, one scratch or bite and you have a ninety nine point nine chance of getting the disease.  Raccoons commonly carry it."  Illea informed Diane.

Disease. This was a word Diane knew. Diseased wolves were not allowed in the Cove—she had heard this—and those who caught a disease from the sea (or otherwise) had been eradicated. She didn't know what happened to the wolves who had been too sick to heal or dangerously contagious. These were things she had never dealt with before or been overly concerned with because it had never happened to anyone she had cared for. She shook her head, stepping away from the raccoon trail and making a mental note never to follow such a scent should she cross it. In fact, it was most likely that she would travel in the opposing direction, if ever she caught the smell again.

"Does it hurt?" she asked quietly, referring to the blood-transfered sickness.

Illea shivered at the thought of rabies.  "Not only that it makes you go mad.  You become a killing machine as the rabies takes control of you.  Then you die a slow long and awe fully painful death."  Illea told Diane, hoping this didn't scare the female to bad, although rabies was a thing that should be warned about.

Diane's eyes widened, shining gold discs of trepidation. "That's awful," she mumbled, looking away towards the distant crop of trees presently containing a raccoon. Possibly its family—A bunch of rabies-carriers. The base of her tail puffed up slightly, and she frowned. "Why would the pack let these creatures live here with a risk like that?" There had to be a way to eradicate them right? She couldn't imagine one of the wolves she'd met getting infected and becoming... mindless. Violent. And then die slowly, agonizingly.

Diane swallowed, watching Illea seriously.

Illea pondered that to herself for a moment.  “It’s complicated I guess, Diane.  Chasing Raccoons out would get wolves infected I guess... it could kill off an entire pack, if the infected wolf was not killed or chased out forever till death.  So I guess Alpha’s just don’t want to take any chances and just decide to leave Raccoons alone, so that they will leave us alone.”

Illea hoped her answer was accurate enough, it seemed like a good explantation to her, although she couldn’t be sure if she was right.  After all, she had never been an Alpha herself, her explanation seemed to make at least a little sense when she thought about it.

It made sense, what Illea said. Though Diane had originally likened the task to herding and pursuing out of the territory, but the white she-wolf's words made her imagine instead what it would be like to eradicate the Ridge of ants. The gold and grey runaway honestly had no idea how many raccoons existed, what size they were, or the level of difficulty it would take to remove them all. She supposed she had been rash in her suggestion—It now seemed easier to just avoid the rabid omnivores. She wondered what they looked like, but figured she didn't need to know because she could already identify them by scent.

"Yeah, that makes sense... Thanks for telling me, Illea. I honestly had no idea."

Fade here?

Illea nodded.  “Your welcome.”  Illea was glad to pass on information to Diane, she found that she liked passing on information.  It was good for others to fully understand the lovelies and dangers of this world.  She flicked her ears absently.  “Well... I guess I’ll see you later then!”  Illea remarked.  Then started to pad away, making her leave.  Wondering what had ever happened to her birth pack.  Had rabies ever been a trouble for them?

Fading Here...