February 18, 2020, 07:42 AM
(This post was last modified: February 18, 2020, 07:44 AM by Artyom.)
Maybe @Kukulkan?
Despite yesterday's failed hunt, Artyom maintained his high spirit. He had hoped to surprise Whitebark's wolves with a grand feast of beaver meat but, unfortunately, it was not meant to be. There would be other opportunities, other prey to fell when the herds found the confidence to return to the maplewood, but in the meantime there were hares to satisfy hunger.
The pale ranger ventured beyond his home beneath another snow flurry that afternoon, deep into the frozen wetlands. He did not go in search of prey but simply to stretch his limbs and make some time to enjoy the cold season. A hope to happen across some sign of his missing comrades kept him heading out to search, though he knew such chances to track them would dwindle on the approach of Dawn's whelping.
February 18, 2020, 07:04 PM
He'd passed by the maple forest, his eyes glazed over with how utterly magnificent it looked, and hadn't paid any attention to the trajectory of his path. So when he inevitably ended up neck-deep in freezing silt-laden water, Tiffany wished he could backtrack to that forest and pretend none of this ever happened. It was unfortunate that he was covered in grime now - but worse than that, the mud was so thick and cold at the bottom of the wetland that his paws kept getting stuck! Each time he pulled a limb free enough to take a step he thought he was losing chunks of fur. It wasn't fun.
Eventually he made his way along until the ground was more solid, and he could hoist himself free. It took some wiggling, some kicking, and some weird contortions of his body to finally get every limb free (his poor tail was rank with mud that smelled like rotten eggs, oh the indignity!); but he managed to get free.
The falling snow obscured the wolf-shaped chasm he had formed behind himself pretty quickly. He looked over his shoulder at the deep gouge that was turning white, and huffed. When he turned back to try and plot out his next move, he saw -- well, at first Tiffany wasn't sure. A bundle of grey-white moving through the snow without any effort at all. Possibly a woman! Maybe a damsel in distress? He was squinting through the snowfall but couldn't make out the details. It was enough to prompt a lunge from the pile of roots and snow, though.
Right back in to the mire, which he entered chest-first, tripping on his own paws and eating dirt in the next gasping moment.
Eventually he made his way along until the ground was more solid, and he could hoist himself free. It took some wiggling, some kicking, and some weird contortions of his body to finally get every limb free (his poor tail was rank with mud that smelled like rotten eggs, oh the indignity!); but he managed to get free.
The falling snow obscured the wolf-shaped chasm he had formed behind himself pretty quickly. He looked over his shoulder at the deep gouge that was turning white, and huffed. When he turned back to try and plot out his next move, he saw -- well, at first Tiffany wasn't sure. A bundle of grey-white moving through the snow without any effort at all. Possibly a woman! Maybe a damsel in distress? He was squinting through the snowfall but couldn't make out the details. It was enough to prompt a lunge from the pile of roots and snow, though.
Right back in to the mire, which he entered chest-first, tripping on his own paws and eating dirt in the next gasping moment.
Although Winter's chill had frozen most of the bog, Artyom found some areas to have thawed considerably. His paws sank in some areas, rendering ivory fur at his lower limbs slick with dark mud with each misjudgment he made.
He carried on, doing his best to stick to areas where the mud seemed less thawed, and twitched his nose in distaste as his toes squelched beneath him. It wasn't pleasant, and he hoped traipsing through the marsh would at least yield some results in his search for missing pack-mates, and his ears pricked forward hopefully at the sound of another pulling his feet free of the icy sludge just ahead.
Vision limited by snowfall, Artyom blinked a stray snowflake from his lashes and snaked his tongue between lips to sweep them from his whiskers. He squinted his gaze in attempt to see better, and paused as the movement before him began to sound more... distressed.
A stranger came crashing closer, already made sodden and rugged by the wetlands, and the pale ranger swept forward to assist. "You okay?" Artyom asked, curious as to who he was but unable to identify any pack scent beyond the aroma of stinking bog mud. He offered help that was not required, and so each wolf went on their way.
He carried on, doing his best to stick to areas where the mud seemed less thawed, and twitched his nose in distaste as his toes squelched beneath him. It wasn't pleasant, and he hoped traipsing through the marsh would at least yield some results in his search for missing pack-mates, and his ears pricked forward hopefully at the sound of another pulling his feet free of the icy sludge just ahead.
Vision limited by snowfall, Artyom blinked a stray snowflake from his lashes and snaked his tongue between lips to sweep them from his whiskers. He squinted his gaze in attempt to see better, and paused as the movement before him began to sound more... distressed.
A stranger came crashing closer, already made sodden and rugged by the wetlands, and the pale ranger swept forward to assist. "You okay?" Artyom asked, curious as to who he was but unable to identify any pack scent beyond the aroma of stinking bog mud. He offered help that was not required, and so each wolf went on their way.
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