Heron Lake Plateau giblets

@Phoebe

An indeterminate amount of time has passed between his meeting with Owen and the gross garden, and now. Not sure how long, but just go with it okay? Good, cool. Now that we're on the same page — remember all that dirt and grime and poop and nastiness that's gotten all up in Tywyll's business? That hasn't gone away. He napped for a while with Owen in a totally consensual and not wink-wonky kind of way (and it was nice), but he didn't sleep for long. The hunger pains of his seven-day ordeal outside of the territory stopped him from getting a deep sleep. So he got up, stepped back from the slumbering Owen, and tawdled away, hunting for something to nibble or slurp, or maybe somewhere to bathe.

He had a little more energy after that power nap and that helped, but Tywyll was still feeling down in the dumps — and he still smelled like a dumpster fire. By the time he found the central lake he was ready for another nap, but he plopped himself down in the shallows with the intent to have a bath, and began to roll around, splashing and frothing the water. He got a little cleaner, but the pond was very, very cold, and layered with its own half-frozen pond scum. Tywyll might've cleaned off a lot of the goose garbage, but he had gathered a new aux de frog to replace it. Lets just face it — the boy was hopeless.

The days were getting colder now. Phoebe decided rather quickly that she was not a fan of this at all after the first great gale of icy wind sent shivers down along her spine. The weather was definitely more tolerable during the daylight though, so long as the slivers of sunlight peered through. She stuck to those sunbeam patches as best she could as she roamed, albeit on a task. Her mother had sent her out—more than likely to keep all her kids cooped up and driving her crazy—to bring back the leaves of a particular plant. The name had already slipped her memory for the time being, but she knew which one to go and find.

The trick was, finding it. So late in the season, the chances of her actually stumbling across it growing so wildly as it had been earlier had slimmed considerably. But there were still a few places she had been informed to check and none of them too terribly far off from the den. Of course she had to do a little bit of wandering off too... what was an adventure without it? There was little hesitation in making the decision to go out and in no matter of time the sight of the plateau's prize lake was creeping up into view.

Phoebe hadn't forgotten about the last trip they had made here though. Eljay having to pluck her siblings from the water, not to mention just how freezing that water had been—perhaps she had really not have been out there. The thought did cross her mind but her feet seemed to have a mind of her own and besides, the plant she was after did grow there.

Sidling up along the slope to the water's edge, she honed her focus, hoping to spy a wilting leafy green in among the fading reeds. What she instead found early into her search was a dark figure all but snaking along. For a split second she thought it to be one of her own siblings, or perhaps even a cousin, but instead it had to be That One. Tywyll, or whatever his name was. Though a little fuzzy too in her recollection, she remembered the negativity of their first and last encounter.

Even with him coming her way, she swiftly turned on her heel to go the opposite way.

Nope nope nope nope—abort this mission right now.

word count: 405

Even if Phoebe had wanted to avoid the mess of a boy, the frogs weren't having it. Perhaps it was fate made manifest (in the form of one particularly fat toad), because Tywyll's attempt to find and murder a frog for the hell of it (potentially for a snack or a gag-gift) led to a surprising turn of events. He hadn't found anything of value until a large, bulbous, mud-clad toad came bursting out of the muck about a foot and a half away from him. It was trying to lunge for the safety of the water but instead it went the opposite direction, frightened by the ink-black boy that was sloppily making his way through the water. Tywyll's convulsive splashing brought his presence to the attention of a few different frogs, but they were mostly in a state of hibernation or near enough that their sleepiness prevented movement; but not this toad. It pulled itself free oft he water and went hopping across the mud, landing with a fleshy slap with regular intervals. The sound caught in Tywyll's ears but he wasn't bright enough to know what it was, not until he spotted the frog weaving towards another dark body - Phoebe, who wouldn't have seen the creature because she'd timed her turn a little early.

Tywyll didn't care much for the girl, and to be honest he wasn't thinking about her at all when he finally spotted the frog. She might've been doing her best to avoid the boy and his possible shenanigans but there was no point in trying - he saw that frog, and he went for it. Tywyll moved with as much finesse as a greyhound in socks racing across a freshly washed linoleum floor — which is to say, none at all. His steps squelched and tooted as he bludgeoned his way across the mud towards the toad, his head down and teeth gradually released from behind his black lips, eager to grab it and scoop it up — —

But the toad felt the rumbling of the earth from his steps, and knew to fling itself with hopeless abandon away from danger. It landed at about the same time as Tywyll did. The toad, though, landed in the safety of some tall grass and would be able to continue racing away once the wolf pup was distracted — Tywyll on the other hand, landed in a much worse place. His dropped nose was angling for the toad when it vanished, and he was mid-rise as his body careened across the mud. This meant that when he collided with something, it was a someone, and his nose was precisely angled so that it would jab Phoebe right in the tuchis.

In spite of her desire to beat a hasty retreat and remain unseen, Phoebe knew suspicion had been aroused. She heard the bend and break of thin reeds and rustle of withering grass, heard the sound of wet paws against the mud, she heard—no, she felt the collision of him into her backside and how it sent her stumbling forward. In an instant her muzzle wrinkled, pearly rows of teeth revealing themselves in a flash of surprise and irritation; she was no stranger to being slammed into on a regular basis, not with brothers and all. That reaction was a knee-jerk response, there and gone in an instant before she fully turned on Twywll, the only anger left was the bewilderment strewn in her countenance.

”Really?” she hissed lowly, though from the moment it was off her lips she regretted it. Being firm with him hadn't gone so well the last time. Though in honesty, perhaps she hadn't been so much firm with him as she had just flat out screeched in his face for being a jerk. Regardless, she heaved a sigh and kept her distance, finding—trying to, at least—some sort of even keel to proceed from.

He really looked awful, she decided, and made it a point of discussion.

”You're really dirty now dude,” she went on, ”and you shouldn't be playing in the lake either. Mama says that's how you can catch a cold and you'll probably die. Or the lake will take you,” because it had almost swallowed two siblings and a babysitter recently, but she wasn't about to include that faux pas.

word count: 267

Sorry for the lag on this!

His nose went squish against someone's bottom, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Afterwards, as the accidental target drew away from him and wheeled about with teeth flashing, he was shaking his head and trying to get a good gust of air through his bent nose, pawing at it like it would forever be askew unless he tended to it right this second. Then again, the moment he caught those shiny white teeth in his periphery he was back-pedaling.

Tywyll would've apologized if it was anyone else but, being both an idiot child and a boy, he thought it was pretty funny. More amusing was the fact he recognized that face — it was the PHEEBS! Phoebe! Sure, his last encounter with her had only been sliiighty better (but still awful), but it wasn't like he had aimed for her butt and inserted his nose anywhere on purpose.

Oh, pfffft, its not that bad — but then she mentioned that he might go bathe and drown in the lake and that wasn't a pleasant thought, making his already sore nose do a scrunchy thing and his ears to fold back. I wouldn't die! The heck is wrong with you Pheeb. He could swim really well too! Probably! He hadn't tried to swim anywhere super deep but -- but -- oh whatever. I bet I can swim better than you anyway!