Arrow Lake Deerly Departed
I AM WEASEL, HEAR ME ROAR
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Ooc — Bryndel
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#1
All Welcome 
It had been an unexpectedly bountiful day for sharp-eyed little weasels.
 
The treacherous freezing fogs that had stolen upon them in the night did not seem a very auspicious beginning, but although Nynka had grimaced and hissed to herself as the weather wormed its way past the front door of her burrow, once she had slithered out and gone bounding across the landscape she had been able to keep warm enough. It didn’t do her nose any favors, still, but she made up for it with the sharp, darting glances she shot all about her as she trampolined across the landscape at a brisk little pace. Most of the other small animals were huddled safe and warm in their burrows still, however, and at first Nynka had thought the morning was a bust. She’d begun to toy with the notion of heading home and curling up for a refreshing nap herself.
 
But her luck had very definitely turned, if at the decided expense of another unfortunate creature, as was so often the case. It was rare for a little weasel to get more than a small taste of the larger prey available in the environment, a couple scavenged mouthfuls stolen from insufficiently attentive larger predators. Nynka had mainly been keeping a lookout for such portable creatures as rodents, small birds, …even a torpid lizard or snake might do, though it seemed unlikely any were stupid enough to leave their hidey-holes this morning. But imagine her glee when she rounded a corner and instead saw below, in the bottom of a smallish ravine that was the furthest, smallest finger of the looming mountains above, the pristine carcass of a small deer, one that Nynka didn’t have to fight off anyone else for at all.
 
This was not, however, likely to remain the case for long, so Nynka descended at a heedlessly headlong pace down into the craggy bottoms, skipping nimbly around the curves of a small stream sluggishly trickling through and its skirts of crumbling ice. The deer had likely been quite young, and stupid and incautious itself; one leg was crumpled under it at a fearsome and unnatural angle, as was its neck. It hadn’t been dead very long, but the cold water had both helped to preserve it and make it more difficult for interested parties to smell. Nynka bounded eagerly over and gave the carcass a once-over. The leg was more than broken, in fact; it had caught at a most unfortunate angle on a rocky protrusion, and the ligaments and muscle of the underside were nearly torn away entirely. Unfortunate for the little deer, that is, but very lucky indeed for the weasel who had stumbled upon it first… This particular confluence of events was not one she was likely to see in her life again, she figured, and so without hesitation she seized upon this opportunity whilst it remained.
 
Quite literally. The ice was extra-cold and a little slippery under her feet, where it creaked ominously, but she was on it for barely a moment before skipping agilely to the nearest snow-glazed rock instead. She perched there with her back feet and with forefeet and teeth seized upon the nearly-torn leg. She gave it several mighty tugs, at last flinging her whole body whiplike up into the air in the effort, and the last piece of connecting tissue started to tear. Even so small a deer has a leg a few times her size, of course, but that wasn’t going to stop Nynka. Several more vicious yanks, and the leg pulled free, sending her tumbling end over end backwards into the powdery snow as it flew up and away. Nynka righted herself in a flash, leaping up and grabbing the leg between her teeth more firmly yet somewhere roughly in the middle. It stuck out ridiculously long to either side of her mouth, and wobbled somewhat precariously, but she didn’t give it an opportunity to fall again before she was bounding off back toward home with her newfound loot. She moved swiftly and smoothly enough back up onto the ridge and along the open fields, though bobbling a little bit side to side herself with the weight of it, but when she got a little ways into the scattered trees was when she began to encounter more trouble. The limp hoof thonked into its first tree and arrested her momentum. She dug her teeth in deeper, jinking sideways and then forging determinedly forward once more. This course of action worked well enough until she ran into two trees in short succession, bringing her up indignantly short. She squealed in muffled frustration as she tugged hard upon her prize, but the trees fought back, this time: the stupid haunch of meat had wedged itself there pretty solidly. Not fair! Nynka battled with the woodsy betrayers in rising anger: no way she’d let them win this tug-of-war!
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Wraen was a little disappointed to find out that her direct access to the creek and lands beyond it was occupied by a pack of wolves. The scent of the residents was so thick in the land and few stolen glances of the inhabitants in the distance, deterred her from any attempt at trespassing. Yet she was very keen on examining the oblong lake a little southwards to the mountain range she had descended from. The sight of water-fowl the last time was worth to explore today. 

What she did and how she got to the location is not relevant, because she was distracted by the "fresh" smell of supposedly dead-meat bee-lining from somewhere from the mountain towards line of trees nearby. Curious and perplexed on, how exactly a dead body could move, she followed the trail, until she caught sight of an even more surprising image. What appeared to be a piece of someone's leg moving accross the landscape and banging into the trees. 

Not too long ago someone had told her (and been pretty sure about this as well) that magic did not exist. She wondered, what would that person say now, if they saw, what she did. Wraen drew closer and closer, until she made out the secret behind the "magic trick" - there by that leg was a small creature working furiously and very diligently to move forwards with the prize that was way bigger than itself. At other times Wraen would be indulged to scare the little beast away and steal the leg, but now the sight was too amusing not to enjoy it a while longer. She sat down to watch.
I AM WEASEL, HEAR ME ROAR
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Ooc — Bryndel
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Nynka doubled down her concentrated attacks on the insultingly uncooperative leg-of-deer. She bit and yanked on first one end, then the other again, then the middle. When she darted back to the thigh to hissingly sink her teeth in and tug her hardest once more, she managed to jolt the meat free— for half an inch. Then, in a scraping of wood and with a small fluttering of bark chip crumbs, it wedged again. Nynka screeched at it in frustration, her eyes wild as she battled valiantly with it and then, for a few moments, turned her teeth and claws angrily on the trunk of the tree that was thwarting her.

You stupid— stupid tree creature! The words were unthinkingly shrieked in-between disgusting mouthfuls of slightly-mossy bark shreds. They were the grossest thing Nynka's tongue had ever tasted, but she wasn't about to let that stop her. Her teeth grabbed onto a protruding nub that had once terminated in a branch and gave it a vicious twist, ripping it from the towering plant that was only 50 or 60 times her size, after all, and whose continuing intransingience and stoic silence Nynka was choosing to take as mockery. You'll never get my deer! she yelled up at it after spitting out the nub of wood. Its bitter woodsy taste only increased her high dudgeon. Never ever ever ever! The tree seemed...unimpressed.

Furiously Nynka went at the deer leg itself again— it wasn't about to defeat her either, not when she'd hauled it this far!—but although the two-tined black hoof flopped about on the farther end of it in protest, the whole shank seemed quite content to stay right where it was stuck. Forever. Oh no you don't! thought Nynka, and would have screamed it at the deer haunch in turn if she hadn't been preoccupied with a large mouthful of deer fur and meat from which she was whipping her whole long body about wildly. As the first tuft of fur came suddenly loose she tumbled back onto snow and dirt, only to come flying right back up with a wild war cry of vengeance and a slightly browner dirt-speckled coat to latch herself onto the meat once again. She jerked and pulled and scratched and bit at the thing like her life depended on it: this was a matter of principle, now, and the little weasel was not about to let this deer shank or its greedy tree friends win. Not by a long shot. ...Meantime, she remained oblivious to the only other animate living being in the area.
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Had the little, furious creature been Wraen's size or even bigger, she would definitely not want to get in it's bad books. The ferocity it fought with to free it's spoil from the grasp of the evil trees was amusing and endearin at the same time. And not wanting to spoil the show by jumping in, grabbing the foot and running off with it, she watched it work for a little while longer.

"Do you need any assistance?" she asked eventually, not really expecting that the animal would appreciate it, but rather curious to see it's reaction towards such a suggestion.
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She snapped her head around at the sound of a canine voice. Her glittering black eyes near-glowed with anger still, and she did a furious little jig from one front foot to the other. The rude wolf was just sitting there, staring at her! How long had it been there?! And was it perhaps even now stealthily signalling suggestions to those infuriating trees? Perhaps fir and canid were in league, banding together to steal Nynka's rightful prize out from under her sharp little nose!

The notion was not a particularly sensible one, but right then and there Nynka absolutely did not care. If trees wished to set themselves lofty goals like learning to hunt meat instead of depending on weak and tasteless water and sunshine, fine, but they could start somewhere else other than her deer leg. And as for this wolfNeed? she hissed back, her volume lowered from before. Her voice very quickly climbed the crescendo again as she continued, however: Need?! The day that Nynka needs the assistance of a treacherous wolf is the day that— that fish will fly! I have no need of your help, wolf, nor will I ever! She paused, baring her teeth fiercely in-between panting breaths. Surely the wolf could not fail to be impressed by the needle-like sharpness and pristine white of her small fangs, right? So much better than those clumsy big inelegant yellowing stinking wolf teeth.

...Except, perhaps, for this. Nynka unbent just a hair: But if the wolf wishes to humbly offer her help to a superior being then, well, I suppose that could be allowed. Her eyes glittered in irritation and her tail lashed to and fro in agitation a few times. But, well, if it saved her having to take another few mouthfuls of tree, Nynka supposed it could be worth it. I might even share a little of it with you, she growled ungraciously. And if the wolf proved to be in league with the evil trees after all? Well, then Nynka supposed they'd both find out just how much more easily wolf flesh gave way to her teeth than tree bark, wouldn't they. She was pretty sure the wolf wasn't quick enough to untangle the leg-of-deer and reach her full running stride before a speedy little weasel could catch at least the end of her tail, anyhow. Nynka eyed the wolf's long legs broodingly, and measured the distance between the thickening trees—less than a full wolf-bound, she thought. She only hoped there'd be no reason to put that to the test; Nynka really wasn't in the mood for it today.
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If Wraen hadn't learned by now that sometimes size mattered less than the fierceness of your opponent. She had not expected the creature to reply to her (to be honest, the fact that this ferret-like thing could talk at all - think (!) even - was a discovery of the day for Wraen), even less for it to take such a strong stance. The angry energy of Nynka was so strong that the wolf took two steps back, as if afraid to get burned.

"I guess, I should expect seeing flying fish any day now," Wraen said to herself, when the animal granted her permission to help out. This reminded her that the next time she ran into Smokestep, she should definitely ask about this kind of fish. "I humbly offer my unworthy hand in helping you out," she said in a solemn voice, her head and tail hanging low, but the mischievous glint in her eyes giving away the amusement of the whole situation. "Where do you want it to go?" she asked for some guidance, before picking up the piece of deer with ease.
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Nynka's rising low and wrathful hissing continued even as she watched the wolf step back—Nynka was only more irritated to hear some muttering of the wolf getting stuck on the ridiculous notion of airborne fish, of all things, that stupid canine!—but was cut off rather abruptly as the wolf drooped fore and aft and offered assistance. The offer sounded serious enough at first, though unexpected; Nynka stuck her pointy nose out and peered closer with tiny eyes glittering with suspicion. Her teeth flashed in the sunlight as she caught the laughing glint in the canine's leafy eye, and she swelled in indignation, taking in a deep breath as she prepared to launch a fresh blistering tirade against this insolent furball who dared to mock her so.

This motion too was abruptly aborted however, as the wolf bitch inquired after where the meat needed to go, just before she stooped and grabbed the item in question up, her blunter teeth ripping the deer leg from its tree prison with effortless violence. Nynka gave those longer ivory canines a sullen look, but answered with a small modicum of politeness at last beginning to show in her shrill, demanding voice as the flakes of tree bark went fluttering haphazardly to the ground. Hmmm. ...This way! she said, and was already in full bounding motion toward the east almost before the words had even left her mouth. She dashed forth between the slightly more spacious trunks of two more twin firs, and then darted around the trunk of a spruce to loop speedily back and dart a tidy little nip through the air in the direction of Wraen's fuzzy heels. The half-playful snap of the weasel's teeth wasn't likely to connect, unless this wolf was exceptionally slow, but there was a bit of a threat implicit in the motion, too. I'm watching you, wolf... you'd best not even think of runnin' off with MY lunch, thought Nynka to herself with a little growl as she dashed by the wolf's far side.
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For a creature so small, it certainly did not lack self-confidence and insolence and, while Wraen found it amusing, she knew very well that this intercourse could have been very short, had the weasel met a different wolf. Or, if the hunter herself had been hungry and in no mood to humor with a potential prey. It was also interesting, that the potentially lethal outcome had not occurred to the little, vicious thing - anyone could easily eat it's prize and have the mustelid for desert.

It herded her like a collie does sheep and more than once Wraen had to watch, where she put her feet, in order not to step on the weasel. There was no reason to believe that such a thing would be viewed favorably in any way. Wraen also thought that, if she came out from this situation "alive", then it would be a very good material for a story.
I AM WEASEL, HEAR ME ROAR
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The wolf was moving smartly along with Nynka's meat, just as ordered. Not quite fast enough for the little weasel's tastes, though; she aimed another nip at the wolf's retreating bone-white heels for good measure. Though really, one would think she'd be grateful the haunch of meat was moving in the right direction at all, given that only a few minutes before it had had any forward motion at all stalled out entirely, with only weaselteeth at hand; a wiser weasel might have shown a little more gratitude, or at least forethought. But that wasn't really a habit of Nynka's, obviously.

She traveled over at least three times the length of ground that the wolf bitch did, in the process of both leading and herding the canine. Her eyes darted suspiciously about for any other creatures, too, who might think of stealing what ought to be 100% her rightful bounty. But besides a lone hawk, for whom Nynka paused for just a second beneath the sheltering branch of an evergreen to give a menancing glare, few other beasts seemed to be about, much less paying the odd pair any attention. Hurry, muttered Nynka as she whipped by Wraen again, however—in a quiet tone of voice almost entirely civil, and slightly conspiratorial. I think that bird's eyeing it up now. She growled, just in case anyone might even for a moment think that Nynka wouldn't leap into battle to defend her stuff at the first opportunity, to make any would-be thief pay as dearly as was weaselishly possible for the prize.

Nynka shot a quick suspicious glance over her shoulder, but didn't see the feathery fiend in the air behind them. Good. Over here, she said to the wolf quickly. Hurry, hurry...! Nynka darted around a small boulder and over a grazzy tussock to dance impatiently before a small hole in the earth. Her eyes glittered with a hint of renewed suspiciousness as she looked back again at the wolf and the meat, but she did look away for a quick instant as she scrabbled at the earth to widen the entryway just a little. In here! She gazed again at the wolf with a guarded expression. Would the canine change its mind? Was it possibly secretly in league with the hawk, as crazily far-fetched as such an alliance might sound? Was Nynka going to have to fight the canine to get back her hard-won deer haunch after all? She hoped not, but better a wolf than a hawk at least, she supposed—no wolf was going to lift off into the air with her precious cut of meat, at least, after all. Put it in here. A final scuff of a brown foot at the den entrance pointedly indicated the long tunnel once more.
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Speaking of wiser weasels, I doubt that any of them would have entrusted anything to a wolf, when there would be a great chance of ending up on the snack-table themselves. But Wraen was an exception, because her own amusement with the little, vicious creature grew with every passing moment and had it not been for the chunk of meat in her mouth, she would have burst out laughing. Probably - much to annoyment of the already firey little thing.

Wraen looked up, when the weasel mentioned a bird overhead and saw nothing of concern. Probably because hawks have harder time of scooping up and taking away a fully grown-up wolf than a creature several times smaller. And jus then, when she had stopped wondering about this matter, they had arrived and her companion was pointing out to a den entrance that - in her opinion - would do to store the meat. In Wraen's - that there was no way they could stuff this much in there.

She put it down, however, and took a step back, saying: "Here you are." And then sitting down in hopes to see even better specatcle than before.
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The stupid wolf set the haunch down on top of the dirt, rather than in the hole as Nynka has so clearly demanded. No, not there, that's—oh, never mind! she snapped with impatience. She dashed forward and seized the hunk of deer meat again herself, its long leg trailing a hook behind it on the ground as with a flashing glance toward the skies for any hawks following them, Nynka hefted the opposite end and—demonstrating she really wasn't learning much from experience, here—stuffed it hastily into a gap which was again not quite big enough to actuall encompass its bulk. Just as Wraen had predicted.

Nynka jabbed and yanked viciously at the thing as if brute force alone could overcome basic geometry, causing the decapitated limb to jump and kick as if it was reliving its death throes. The weasel's efforts tore her off a strip from the haunch's muscular thigh-end, a ragged strip which she stuffed down the burrow in front of the bulk of it. There, that was maybe 10% of the thing at most concealed underground...only 90% + to go. Hurray?

Tchah! breathed Nynka intently, half-irritated and half-absorbed in the problem, now. Keep an eye out for interfering birds, she snapped at the wolf before applying her own small claws to the circumference of the hole's entrance once more for a few impatient seconds before again yanking at the haunch with vigor. Get! she hissed at it, right before crankily jerking a few additional strips of meat off its bones. Finishing the whole thing that way would undoubtedly have been much quicker, but the obviously quite stubborn weasel had at some point fixed it in her mind that she wanted the whole darn thing to come underground with her, and wasn't going to rest until that was accomplished.
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#12
Wraen would have loved to stay here longer, tease the little, angry, but very determined creature a bit, amuse herself with it's reactions, which would surely be hilarious. But a glance over at the position of the sun and quick calculations of how much time it would take her to get back to Sunspire, made her realize that, if she did not leave now, it would be a lot harder to find the right path that would lead her home in the darkness.

"It was fun, little peep," as she said this, she had removed herself from the close vicinity of the weasel. Wraen was pretty sure that the animal would not take the name lightly. "And good luck with that leg," with this she got up and left in quick strides. Though it was not very likely that Nynka would catch up with her, Wraen did not want to test her fate and luck too much. You never knew.

Thanks for the thread - Nynka is amazing!
I AM WEASEL, HEAR ME ROAR
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Ooc — Bryndel
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Glad you enjoyed her— and thanks for the thread! ;)

Nynka scowled at the tunnel, then the haunch of venison, then back at the tunnel again. She didn't know who had invented the laws of physics but she had half a mind to give them a good solid bite right now; first the trees, then this! It was terrible, as if the world's physical design had been drawn up expressly to inconvenience her, Nynka.

Distracted by these brooding thoughts as she scrabbled at the den entryway again, Nynka didn't notice her tame wolf starting to sidle off until it was too late. She only half-paid attention to the canine's voice as she herself focused on bringing the size of the den and the size of the meat into better alignment with one another. Then—Oy, wait, you're supposed to be watching for birds, there! she yelled after the wolf with a small stamp of one foot, while the canine hastily wished her luck and hoofed it on outta there. Truly, Nynka had no idea why good help was so hard to find! She grumbled to herself a little as she turned back to her digging, though after a moment she brightened, as it crossed her mind that now she wouldn't have to bother offering even the most cursory of tokens of gratitude to any wolves today. That meant the meat really was all hers, free and clear—score!

It belatedly occurred to her that she had never even bothered to learn the canine's name...huh. Nynka shrugged and proceeded to give the venison a final extra-vicious yank that at last funneled it down into the enlarged burrow hall— well, funneled most of it, at least. Outside the den entryway a few shredded scraps of fur and stringy muscle lay forlornly scattered about still, bearing mute testimony to the drama that had only recently taken place there. The quiet lasted only a moment before an observant young crow spotted the mess and swooped down to clean up the last telltale signs that Nynka, Wraen, or their prey had ever been there.