Permafrost Hollows I decided to play when I knew you were fire
Tha gràin agam air an t-saoghal
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#1

The man needed to keep busy. He was filling caches today, getting ready for something. Anything, a major snowstorm would hinder the progress of the pack seriously. 
There was one last night though. He'd moved through it, however, keeping on his patrol. 

Today, the world was in a new blanket of powder with another layer threatening to hail from the sky soon. He had to move quickly. 
Hunting birds were his specialty, yet the snow made everything harder for him. The sinking crunch on the soft powder startled the birds often so, to avoid this, he had to spread his legs wide. It seemed to work with less sinking and, if he did hit a softer patch, he'd only go as far as his belly.
It proved more successful, anyway.

Derg had a fowl in his sights, it was pecking and scratching at the snow trying to get to the ground. The wolf didn't know what the bird was trying to find, but he wouldn't find it. The man was nearing, the ground was firm. Perfect. It had to hold long enough -- just a little closer. The russet-cloaked burst forward then pushed up as the bird rose with a squark of terror. They always went up. His teeth clasped around the bird and was brought down heavily as Derg too thudded on his landing. He braced both paws on his catch, refusing to let go yet. 

Expertly, he held the bird and ended it without further clamor. Again, he was successful. His head lifted and he looked about, checking for anything that may have been attracted to the sound; friend or foe.

​277 words
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#2
I couldn't resist
She's tried to stay fairly close to Derg since agreeing to follow him, but she has quickly fallen back into old habits; it's easiest to spend most of her time on her own, where she can't mess anything up or be stupid and scared and useless. Or, she can, but at least no one can see it. Ironically, she's far less prone to such idiocy when in her own company, though she's figured out by now that this is simply one of the cruelties of life.
There's a little more to her solitude than just habit, however. There is something intimidating about Derg, something she can't find a name for, and it makes little sense to her. He's been kind so far, and patient — but some part of her remains wary. This same wariness inspires a fair amount of guilt, too, however; enough that she finds herself seeking him today. It doesn't take long to catch his scent, fortunately, and she trails it through the territory until she finds the man standing over a bird. She can't help but smile a little at the sight of him, thinking that she'd found him with a bird the first time they'd met, too. Birdboy, she thinks, stifling a giggle and deciding to never ever tell him of the moniker. Instead she chuffs softly to announce her presence, tail swishing behind her.
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#3

The man hadn't seen much of Keen since he got here, even when meeting with Wintersbane and agreeing to help his cause she seemed to go off on her own whims. He'd tried to find her yet she managed to always seem to be three steps ahead.
Until today when her steps brought her to him.

He turned his head to the sound of the chuff, a lopsided grin already painted on his face. He looked over the girl, checking for any signs of discomfort that she may have come to hi with, but found nothing amiss. Good. Perhaps today could be a hunting lesson.
The man dipped his head in greeting, his tail waving softly.
The man inclined his head to the bird, "Hungry or Curious?" He wondered with a glint to his eye.

If she were curious, it'd be enough cause for him to store this catch and teach her why. If hungry, well, he'd help her catch her own bird. 

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#4
The man's lopsided grin brings a pleasant warmth to her face, and she draws closer as he questions her. She's a little surprised by how happy she is to see him; perhaps she needs companionship more than she'd realized. Curious, She responds simply, her own head tilting slightly as her gaze drifts to the dead creature. The sight quickly makes her rather nauseous, but she does her best to stifle the feeling, focusing instead on the exciting prospect of learning something. After a beat, she glances back to birdboy and adds: I've never tried to hunt a bird before.
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#5

"Well," he started, "I can, of course, teach you. Are you familiar with caches?"
He finished with the question, turning to pick the bird up and inclining his head for the girl to follow. It wasn't far to the nearest cache, the short trip would give her time to tell him what she knew.

Now, Derg, being the kind of hermit he was, didn't know how he would start teaching the girl. He supposed it couldn't be too hard, she was attentive and seemed to be easy to mould. Younger characters were always easier to mould, he found. Less knowledge of the world to give them a strict form.
His mind drifted to the boy, Illidan. He wondered what he was being taught. Grezig. His thoughts silenced and honed in on the girl, forcing his sister from his mind completely.

​143 words
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#6
Her features relax into a bright, genuine smile at his words. The expression feels almost foreign on her face after spending so long wallowing in her misery, but she doesn't pay it much mind. Instead she moves to follow him with a nod of affirmation, tail swishing a little faster now. Caches are where the pack stores food, right? She says, watching the bird dangle as he carries it. She's never much liked being around caches herself; something about seeing all of the corpses makes her stomach twist uncomfortably every time. But she'd never tell anyone that.
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#7

Derg nodded, reaching the cache and nestling the bird amongst the hollow beneath the tree roots.
"Indeed. They are very important for the pack, especially if the majority is elders or youngsters that find it harder to hunt." 
He started shifting snow back to cover the clear opening. The cold was best for storage for they didn't rot so quickly. Less work of his behalf and better all around. Better for the pack.

"You make bigger caches as it moves into winter because hunting is harder, less food around and it keeps longer. When the cache starts to rot you have to clean it all out and either eat was is still good or take the rotting food outside pack borders. Attracts fewer scavengers."  He remembered back to a time when there was an emptied cache, the corpses litter around the site, and coyotes came in scavenging. He'd managed to slaughter two of the creatures before other members chased and killed the others.
Brutal yet enforced. No pack needed raided caches, emptied or not, without consequences. 
That day hurt.

The man inclined his head again and walked off in a different direction, patrol and keep the girl company most likely. Keep teaching her.

​​205 words
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#8
She watches him as she listens, stomach jumping and twisting as she watches him place the dead bird. How long does it take to start rotting? She asks after she's had a couple moments to collect herself, eyes still sparkling when she glances back to him. Even her own aversion to food can't seem to ruin her mood right now, and she finds herself pleased with it. Her ears perk a little when Derg gestures to her again, and she quickly forgets that she'd had any turmoil at all as she turns to follow him on this new route.
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#9

His brows furrowed, in all his time he'd never managed to pinpoint an exact timeline to the decomposition of caches. He didn't have the knowledge that the insects and bacteria, as well as temperature and moisture, changed the rate of decay.
But he supposed he'd have to give his rough estimates.
"In the winter, I'd say about a week. It depends where you place them. In the snow, say in the tunnels, they won't decompose for perhaps two weeks. Where that cache is,"  he gestured backward with his muzzle, "a week I'd say. It's best to check on them often for status and scavengers."

Whew. He fell silent for a short time, needing to process all he'd said and formulate his next words. He was certainly speaking more but this was for a good cause. He looked to Keen with a soft fondness in his gaze. She wasn't much a child, rather a teen growing into what would be a knowledgeable woman.
"In summer," he continued, "it doesn't take long and they have to be hidden better. Underground, closer to dens is best, easier to guard and sort through, if not sorted they can attract cougars."
He fell silent again, already considering what other questions she'd ask next.

219 words​
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#10
She gives Derg every ounce of her attention as he speaks, fluffy ears standing at full height as she takes in his words. It seems a rather fair balance to her, that winter should slow the decomposition of prey; after all, food is more scarce in the cold months, too. At the mention of scavengers, curiosity flashes in her bright blue eyes, but she waits politely to see if Derg has anything else to say. And it seems he does, though the fond look he casts in her direction is awfully distracting for a moment. His first words don't quite register over her own sudden flush of heat and shyness, even as her gaze traces the movement of his mouth. No one outside of her own family has ever taken to her company, perhaps because she hasn't taken to any of them; this sort of companionship is such a foreign feeling, she doesn't quite know what to do with it. She pushes the thoughts aside, managing to tune back in as birdboy is saying something about underground and dens and cougars.
Can you tell me more about scavengers? She asks after a beat, a little glad that she'd already known what she wanted to say. Her time with Derg has so far always been pleasant, but she's starting to feel... a little fatigued, maybe, though the word doesn't seem to fit. It is a strange feeling; not physical, but of the mind. The longer she focuses on not making a fool of herself, the more scattered and sloppy and sluggish her thoughts become. She can't help but be afraid that soon she'll be reduced back to a stuttering mess, as she had been the day they'd met.
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#11

He nodded, letting them walk on.
He didn't feel like talking for the moment. His voice sounded wrong, odd, hollow even. Not like the youthful yet quiet chirp the girl spoke with, nor the thick voice of Wintersbane. 
Perhaps he wasn't ready to socialize yet.

Eventually, he deigned to talk again, clearing his throat subtly to try and make it seem normal. 
"Scavengers often don't hunt for themselves. They like to eat what's already dead and left. Things of the like of coyotes, crows and ravens. Foxes and hawks often will too. It's easier for them, they don't need to feed a whole pack. Once they know where a cache is you have to move it, they remember where it is."
He paused, looking beyond the borders. His ears cupped forward, signaling his alertness.
He could've sworn he saw something move in the treeline.
He stiffened, taking another step forward and lowering his head slightly, should he be ambushed by whatever was lurking there. He'd rather not have his throat ripped out.
Hazel eyes scanned for the movement again, trying to disprove the slinking form he glimpsed beyond the border.

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#12
Derg doesn't speak again for awhile, though he offers a nod. She finds the silence pleasant, relieving, but she can't help but wonder for a few beats if she'd said something wrong. Her worries are dispelled after a time, when his voice begins to fill the air again, and she eagerly soaks up the information. Before she can respond, however, she notices Derg's pause and sudden tension. She halts too and opens her mouth briefly to speak, but watching him step toward the border with his head lowered makes her think better of it. Her own gaze follows his to the treeline as she hovers a few feet behind him, but she can't see anything. Strangely, there is no fear within her as she considers the possibilities, though she cannot decide if it is because of her trust in Derg or because of something else entirely. Either way, she lingers behind him with blue eyes flicking between him and the borders, waiting for a sign that something is truly wrong.
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#13

Her lets out a low rumble after a few more heartbeats, his eyes locking with those of a fox. Staring at the pair from under a skeletal bush. His lips write up in a stark warning to the lesser creature, warning it off. Making it clear that it would be suicide to cross over to raid caches.
Luckily for it, it makes the choice of life and slinks off. 
Derg didn't rise back up until he spotted it's tail flicking up as it moved through the brush and away.

"Damn foxes,"  he muttered but cracked a soft grin to ease Keen of any discomfort he may have installed in her. "Sly bastards have been following me around best part of the day." He shrugged, continuing his patrol and letting the air clear of his tension. He sighed softly, "Anything else you wish to know?"  his eyes gleamed with something -- not quite pride and not quite happiness. Something else that told the girl he'd be happy to keep answering his questions.

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#14
She watches with wide eyes, catching a glimpse of the fox only a moment after Derg sees it. Her gaze flits to him as he begins to growl, and she's slightly surprised to note that the man is rather intimidating when he wants to be. She ought to have expected it, she thinks, but perhaps she'd just never considered what Derg is like beyond their own interactions. Her eyes drift back to the fox just in time to watch it flee, head tilting slightly.
When she glances back to Derg again, he's rising and muttering about the fox. A faint smile tugs at her own features in response to his grin, and a pleasant warmth settles comfortably in her chest. She feels safe with him in a way she has only ever felt with her family — and though nothing can quite fill the void left by her separation from them, this helps. Just a little. She follows him without hesitation as he begins to move again, shaking her head slightly at his question. I might have more questions later, She decides to answer honestly, adding a beat later because she can never risk stepping on toes: If that's okay with you.
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#15

He merely nodded, noting her returned grin. Good, he hadn't done anything bad. As timid as she was, he was sure she felt safe with him. Like they had a bond that was emerging from under winter snow as the first shoots of spring did without fail.

Ah, spring.
It wasn't too far off now. Where life would become easy again and, provided there wasn't some sort of disaster, could live in relative peace. Build the pack, build bonds with Wintersbane and Keen and whomever else came to the Vartija. 
He sighed contently, gladly continuing his patrol. 

100 words
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