It took a week for the fever to burn through her and by the time it had, there wasn't much left. Her stocky build was now wasted to a sickly hollowness beneath her loose and unkempt pelt.
Pure luck (and dogged refusal to die) kept her through the illness. But death would have been inevitable if she had not chanced upon the stream. Her hind leg was unusable - hunting was impossible. The past week she had spent in and out of dreams, stumbling after shadows and chasing phantoms. Teya had led her through a field of flowers... Towhee had stayed with her through an unknown number of nights. She had lost all sense of both time and herself.
And still the dark one lurked, appearing at times, usually only briefly.
When the fever finally faded she could barely remember the past week. She woke with a splitting head, a bone dry mouth, and a canopy of leaves overhead. At some point she had made it into a forest.
She drew in a breath and immediately was sent into a coughing fit. Water.. Bridget focused in desperately and could have cried with relief when she heard the telltale sign nearby. She lurched to her feet and essentially dragged her useless limb as quickly as she was able towards the sound.
For the first time since her fall, apparently someone was willing to let her catch a break. She drank too fast and her stomach convulsed, but when she was done and it had settled, she noticed shadows and shapes struggling in the current. Salmon.
She had to take a moment and only stared, somewhat slack-jawed. She'd never seen so many fish before. With a low growl, hunger won and she emerged, waterlogged, a few moments later to voraciously tuck in.
Pure luck (and dogged refusal to die) kept her through the illness. But death would have been inevitable if she had not chanced upon the stream. Her hind leg was unusable - hunting was impossible. The past week she had spent in and out of dreams, stumbling after shadows and chasing phantoms. Teya had led her through a field of flowers... Towhee had stayed with her through an unknown number of nights. She had lost all sense of both time and herself.
And still the dark one lurked, appearing at times, usually only briefly.
When the fever finally faded she could barely remember the past week. She woke with a splitting head, a bone dry mouth, and a canopy of leaves overhead. At some point she had made it into a forest.
She drew in a breath and immediately was sent into a coughing fit. Water.. Bridget focused in desperately and could have cried with relief when she heard the telltale sign nearby. She lurched to her feet and essentially dragged her useless limb as quickly as she was able towards the sound.
For the first time since her fall, apparently someone was willing to let her catch a break. She drank too fast and her stomach convulsed, but when she was done and it had settled, she noticed shadows and shapes struggling in the current. Salmon.
She had to take a moment and only stared, somewhat slack-jawed. She'd never seen so many fish before. With a low growl, hunger won and she emerged, waterlogged, a few moments later to voraciously tuck in.
November 27, 2021, 01:14 PM
(This post was last modified: November 27, 2021, 01:19 PM by Welkin.)
Winter is coming, was the whisper ferried within the fickle drafts of wind; at least, what little airy breath could muster up from the tangled depths of this wood. Gnarled and lanky, the passing trunks all had adorned themselves in a virid blanket of moss, which had just begun to tint mustard yellow at the onset of the aching cold. Overhead, an entangled mass of knotted branches had been sewn together from opposing trees to snuff out any flicker of ambient light. Had the trees not been coated in the brilliant warmth of fall, this place could easily have been deemed as eerie.
All the more surprising to Welkin that she had ended up here, of all places.
She didn’t quite know what here was called- not yet, but to any foreigner the likeness of this wood could spell disaster. It was the sameness of it all that kindled a kernel of unease in her gut, that fluttered feebly as if a fledgling chick. The mountains had never been like this. There had always been a telltale peak or overarching constellation to serve as a reliable guide. But here? Here there was nothing.
At least, until the telltale murmur of a bubbling creek peeped from behind a batch of reddened ferns.
Welkin’s ears pinpointed towards the sounds like acute signals, a newfound purpose setting a light jounce within her step. Thickened undergrowth caressed at her flanks like pliant fingertips, sending soft swooshes in her hurried wake. Soon enough the loam became dampened and malleable, indenting softly beneath her insignificant weight. Now clear as a bell, the bubbling liquid presented itself, winding purposefully between gnarled trees. Where the stream wandered, the resulting crevice within the canopy allowed for ample lighting. Now, at least, Welkin had found what would guide her through this wood to the unknown that lay untouched.
A curmudgeonly sigh burst from her diaphragm. Skepticism pulled her jaw taut, the tension creasing the furrows of her brow. As of late, all that had circled through Welkin’s mind was survival; a concept well-familiar to any animal, but nothing the noble had grappled with so ferociously until now. Everything she had dreamt of, could possibly long for, had been handed to her upon a delicate and silver platter until Hlaorith and Banhar, the cowards that they were, had exchanged their daughter to save their own pitiful hides. An embittered snarl pulled tightly at her lips, her pearly whites flashing atop the undulating current.
As if to discard the aching thoughts, Welkin swiftly plunged her head beneath the surface of the gentle current, allowing the subtle roar to stake claim upon her mind. Just listen to the water, and nothing else. When at last her lungs burned feverishly for a kernel of air and her last breath distilled in a flurry of bubbles, Welkin retracted from the stream. Her distorted reflection bent and curved atop the unpredictable current, further dispelled by the droplets of liquid that dribbled stubbornly from her dampened ruffles.
Her thoughts were distilled a second time by the haggard coughing that resounded nearby, sickly and feeble and distinctly wolven.
You should leave. You cannot afford sickness, her mind warned, ensnaring her instincts to turn and depart from the bending steam.
Just as she swiveled, however, a second disturbing thought swiftly changed her course.
You’re leaving them just like they left you. Mocking, domineering.
Exhaling a resigned breath from her blackened nostrils, Welkin’s dirtied talons grappled against the peaty loam, shredding it to smithereens.
Approaching the canine, the croak of her unused voice rang with prominence above the bubbling water.
”Hello?”
All the more surprising to Welkin that she had ended up here, of all places.
She didn’t quite know what here was called- not yet, but to any foreigner the likeness of this wood could spell disaster. It was the sameness of it all that kindled a kernel of unease in her gut, that fluttered feebly as if a fledgling chick. The mountains had never been like this. There had always been a telltale peak or overarching constellation to serve as a reliable guide. But here? Here there was nothing.
At least, until the telltale murmur of a bubbling creek peeped from behind a batch of reddened ferns.
Welkin’s ears pinpointed towards the sounds like acute signals, a newfound purpose setting a light jounce within her step. Thickened undergrowth caressed at her flanks like pliant fingertips, sending soft swooshes in her hurried wake. Soon enough the loam became dampened and malleable, indenting softly beneath her insignificant weight. Now clear as a bell, the bubbling liquid presented itself, winding purposefully between gnarled trees. Where the stream wandered, the resulting crevice within the canopy allowed for ample lighting. Now, at least, Welkin had found what would guide her through this wood to the unknown that lay untouched.
A curmudgeonly sigh burst from her diaphragm. Skepticism pulled her jaw taut, the tension creasing the furrows of her brow. As of late, all that had circled through Welkin’s mind was survival; a concept well-familiar to any animal, but nothing the noble had grappled with so ferociously until now. Everything she had dreamt of, could possibly long for, had been handed to her upon a delicate and silver platter until Hlaorith and Banhar, the cowards that they were, had exchanged their daughter to save their own pitiful hides. An embittered snarl pulled tightly at her lips, her pearly whites flashing atop the undulating current.
As if to discard the aching thoughts, Welkin swiftly plunged her head beneath the surface of the gentle current, allowing the subtle roar to stake claim upon her mind. Just listen to the water, and nothing else. When at last her lungs burned feverishly for a kernel of air and her last breath distilled in a flurry of bubbles, Welkin retracted from the stream. Her distorted reflection bent and curved atop the unpredictable current, further dispelled by the droplets of liquid that dribbled stubbornly from her dampened ruffles.
Her thoughts were distilled a second time by the haggard coughing that resounded nearby, sickly and feeble and distinctly wolven.
You should leave. You cannot afford sickness, her mind warned, ensnaring her instincts to turn and depart from the bending steam.
Just as she swiveled, however, a second disturbing thought swiftly changed her course.
You’re leaving them just like they left you. Mocking, domineering.
Exhaling a resigned breath from her blackened nostrils, Welkin’s dirtied talons grappled against the peaty loam, shredding it to smithereens.
Approaching the canine, the croak of her unused voice rang with prominence above the bubbling water.
”Hello?”
November 27, 2021, 11:10 PM
Bridget tore into the fish with a frenzied vigor, but it was gone too soon. One middling salmon wasn't much when set against almost three weeks of near-starvation. She was cracking the bones between her teeth when the voice surprised her and her first reaction was to bare her fangs. In a single feral motion she swung about towards the noise as her ears pinned, but reason filtered in before she could snarl and warn the stranger away.
She hadn't been able to treat the wound on her leg and it had grown into something beyond the bite that started it. It burned with what had to be a major infection and the pain had spread to encompass most of the limb. Her medic brain was sluggish but not so slow as to turn away potential help. If nothing else, maybe the stranger could point her towards someone near.
She hadn't been able to treat the wound on her leg and it had grown into something beyond the bite that started it. It burned with what had to be a major infection and the pain had spread to encompass most of the limb. Her medic brain was sluggish but not so slow as to turn away potential help. If nothing else, maybe the stranger could point her towards someone near.
Who's there?She asked, her own voice slightly raised and hoarse as well. They sounded as though they meant no harm but Bridget still remained tense. She was in no shape to defend herself against anything and this wasn't a state she enjoyed being in. Whoever it was, she was entirely at their mercy.
November 28, 2021, 01:05 PM
(This post was last modified: November 28, 2021, 01:06 PM by Welkin.)
Even if the fluorescent wolf was tucked carefully beneath the sheltered embrace of sprawling plants, the pungent odor, obtrusive to her tender nose, might as well have been a blatant sign which said ’I’m right here! Come and find me! A sickened voice prompts the peppered wolf to pivot on her axis, the gems of her eyes pinpointing the exact spot in which the stranger had spoken. With all of her wit, as intelligent as she is, she is dumbfounded by the question just leveled by the stranger. Truly, who was she now? Should she take a chance and flaunt her name at the risk of recognition, or embellish herself with a foreign epithet? Welkin had not provided herself with ample time to dictate how she would approach this sickly wolf.
”A wolf like yourself, clearly.” She snorts sardonically. ”My name is Welkin- Welkin Hollybrook.”
She was admittedly a bit condescending in tone and inwardly scolded herself. Surely, Welkin, you did not just sound so condescending to the first wolf you’ve encountered here? No matter, what was done was irreversible.
Maneuvering forwards through the sluggish current, Welkin’s paws would settle within crevices between the pebbled stones. From her vantage the acrid tang of fish seemingly lathed her tongue, and a disgust curled at her lip. Alabaster bones were scattered haphazardly across the flattened expanse, clinging dearly to what had once been a sizable fish. The strawberry wolf which laid sprawled across the pliant strands of grass looked no better for wear. Balmy beads of sweat clung to her sickly strands, an outstretched limb, shredded and seething red, seemingly held lame. Peeping through the pungent fish was the smell of infection, unmistakable and alarming.
This wolf would not last much longer with winter’s arriving clutches settling upon this land.
”I can offer you my help in exchange for a small favor. It seems you care deeply for your own life, and that leg reeks of infection.”
An unpredictable gust ferries along the obtrusive stench, prompting a clear flinch from Welkin’s nose. A disapproving tch follows the reaction, a dubious squint leveled at the she-wolf.
”I’m surprised you chose fish of all things to eat in your feverish state. Not the wisest choice… if you feel the need to empty the contents of your stomach, do so away from me.”
”Now, she begins, an anticipating gleam bubbling within her visage, ”If you want me to tend to that leg, you’ll have to tell me a bit about this place. Potential dangers, prey-rich spots- anything I should know. Otherwise”, at this Welkin leers above the blonde, meeting her amethyst gems, ”You can chance how much farther your tripod stance will carry you. I don’t care much for which option you choose, so make up your mind quickly.”
Domineering, the falsity of her statement is veiled by a nonchalant shrug. Welkin held no intention of leaving this stranger so vulnerable to suffer a lengthy expiration.
But she had to get the wolf’s knowledge out somehow, didn’t she?
”So which will it be?
”A wolf like yourself, clearly.” She snorts sardonically. ”My name is Welkin- Welkin Hollybrook.”
She was admittedly a bit condescending in tone and inwardly scolded herself. Surely, Welkin, you did not just sound so condescending to the first wolf you’ve encountered here? No matter, what was done was irreversible.
Maneuvering forwards through the sluggish current, Welkin’s paws would settle within crevices between the pebbled stones. From her vantage the acrid tang of fish seemingly lathed her tongue, and a disgust curled at her lip. Alabaster bones were scattered haphazardly across the flattened expanse, clinging dearly to what had once been a sizable fish. The strawberry wolf which laid sprawled across the pliant strands of grass looked no better for wear. Balmy beads of sweat clung to her sickly strands, an outstretched limb, shredded and seething red, seemingly held lame. Peeping through the pungent fish was the smell of infection, unmistakable and alarming.
This wolf would not last much longer with winter’s arriving clutches settling upon this land.
”I can offer you my help in exchange for a small favor. It seems you care deeply for your own life, and that leg reeks of infection.”
An unpredictable gust ferries along the obtrusive stench, prompting a clear flinch from Welkin’s nose. A disapproving tch follows the reaction, a dubious squint leveled at the she-wolf.
”I’m surprised you chose fish of all things to eat in your feverish state. Not the wisest choice… if you feel the need to empty the contents of your stomach, do so away from me.”
”Now, she begins, an anticipating gleam bubbling within her visage, ”If you want me to tend to that leg, you’ll have to tell me a bit about this place. Potential dangers, prey-rich spots- anything I should know. Otherwise”, at this Welkin leers above the blonde, meeting her amethyst gems, ”You can chance how much farther your tripod stance will carry you. I don’t care much for which option you choose, so make up your mind quickly.”
Domineering, the falsity of her statement is veiled by a nonchalant shrug. Welkin held no intention of leaving this stranger so vulnerable to suffer a lengthy expiration.
But she had to get the wolf’s knowledge out somehow, didn’t she?
”So which will it be?
November 28, 2021, 08:36 PM
Bridget pulled a pretty indiscreet face at the wolf's tone as they came into view. Is this bitch for real? She had to be, though. No way Bridget's head could manifest a stick as big as the one shoved up her ass.
She was a medic. She didn't need help from this stranger who had the gall to come, out of nowhere, and essentially call her an idiot. Actually... she'd kind of literally done it, hadn't she?
Fuck that. Bridget pushed herself to her (good) feet and took a few measured, but stilted, steps towards the water. Maybe if she ignored her the bitch would get the hint.
You talk a lot, princess.The nickname rolled out with a bit of a tone and wasn't exactly meant as a compliment, though Bridget had to admit the woman was stunning. Insufferable, but stunning nonetheless.
I'll call you next time a deer falls dead in front of me. Otherwise there's fish in the river. A little swim might take down the swelling. Yours... not mine.Bridget grinned. Get it? Because she had a fat head.
She was a medic. She didn't need help from this stranger who had the gall to come, out of nowhere, and essentially call her an idiot. Actually... she'd kind of literally done it, hadn't she?
Fuck that. Bridget pushed herself to her (good) feet and took a few measured, but stilted, steps towards the water. Maybe if she ignored her the bitch would get the hint.
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