Despite the rumblings beneath the earth and the uncertainty that hung over the Teekon, Artyom's life had been uneventful. He simply continued to do his best for the pack at Lost Creek Hollow: maintaining borders and keeping caches full. The Terance and his wolves had become something of a family to him during his time among them, and he was glad to have been there to support his leaders following the hardships their former friends dropped on their shoulders.
More recently, the herds seemed to have moved on prematurely; Winter was not yet upon them. He ventured through neighbouring territories over several days in search of fresh indication that they'd simply changed route, but Artyom feared the pack may have to travel further afield to find a substantial meal. He grumbled to himself as he sniffed around the cuesta that afternoon, frustrated to have delayed in his plans to arrange a hunt to teach the Alphas' offspring.
More recently, the herds seemed to have moved on prematurely; Winter was not yet upon them. He ventured through neighbouring territories over several days in search of fresh indication that they'd simply changed route, but Artyom feared the pack may have to travel further afield to find a substantial meal. He grumbled to himself as he sniffed around the cuesta that afternoon, frustrated to have delayed in his plans to arrange a hunt to teach the Alphas' offspring.
The circle of life went on. Like most of his kin, Bee was scrounging around for a scrap of food he could gnaw in between his teeth until his next meal. Maybe it was his size that had him eating more than most, but there was the quaint theory that perhaps his stomach emptied into a bottomless void crying out to be filled. There was no doubt the nagging in his belly fueled most of his movements over the cuesta, his nose sweeping against the ground and sucking up information from the dirt like a revving Hoover.
The info he gathered made him aware that prey did frequent the area, perhaps to graze, but it didn’t seem as if any trail he followed was very fresh and promising. With a defeated huff of air he paused, squinting towards the horizon to visually scope out his surroundings. An auspicious little blip against the skyline drew his attention, and with renewed interest he prowled towards it, only to see it emerge as another wolf.
Shoulders even and head lowered he aimed to close the gap between them. Steadily though; didn’t need to come off too strong. “You a local?” He barked out when the stretch became thin enough to do so.
The info he gathered made him aware that prey did frequent the area, perhaps to graze, but it didn’t seem as if any trail he followed was very fresh and promising. With a defeated huff of air he paused, squinting towards the horizon to visually scope out his surroundings. An auspicious little blip against the skyline drew his attention, and with renewed interest he prowled towards it, only to see it emerge as another wolf.
Shoulders even and head lowered he aimed to close the gap between them. Steadily though; didn’t need to come off too strong. “You a local?” He barked out when the stretch became thin enough to do so.
February 06, 2020, 12:44 PM
When Artyom happened across the prints of a cloven-hoofed creature, his anticipation grew. He followed them with renewed energy, dark eyes scanning for other signs that a herd had passed through recently, but all scat and scent he found suggested that it'd been a week or so since deer had roamed the cuesta.
"Блядь," the ranger spat the curse in his mother tongue, frustrated, before he hunched his gilded shoulders and pressed on.
From across the river he heard a voice and, lifting his crown to locate the source, Artyom's gaze found a tawny stranger. He parted his jaws to call back in response when the earth began to tremble beneath him and, much to his surprise, the banks of the river began to swell. Water pooled around his ankles in an instant and, with a fearful glance over at the burly loner, Artyom turned and fled before this latest disaster had the opportunity to sweep him away.
He had escaped misfortune but, days' travel from the Lost Creek Hollow, he figured he would carry on with his search. It proved fruitless and by the time Artyom chose to abandon the hunt, the changes in the land meant he could find no safe path to return. So the ranger turned away, defeated, and hoped his comrades would be okay.
"Блядь," the ranger spat the curse in his mother tongue, frustrated, before he hunched his gilded shoulders and pressed on.
From across the river he heard a voice and, lifting his crown to locate the source, Artyom's gaze found a tawny stranger. He parted his jaws to call back in response when the earth began to tremble beneath him and, much to his surprise, the banks of the river began to swell. Water pooled around his ankles in an instant and, with a fearful glance over at the burly loner, Artyom turned and fled before this latest disaster had the opportunity to sweep him away.
He had escaped misfortune but, days' travel from the Lost Creek Hollow, he figured he would carry on with his search. It proved fruitless and by the time Artyom chose to abandon the hunt, the changes in the land meant he could find no safe path to return. So the ranger turned away, defeated, and hoped his comrades would be okay.
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