Lost Creek Hollow nope (2022)

@Crowfeather <3

her scraggly starveling's coat did nothing against the cold, the vicious blow of wind and tearing of snow. small surprise, that the madwoman sought shelter amidst sentinel pines.

the she-shadow slipped into the hollow noiseless, on paws that barely held weight.

Someone had entered their hollow.

One shadow followed the other. His three legs carried him toward the individual while his mind reminded him of the first trespasser they’d had. Silvertongue had been so brave. Crowfeather did not want to make her feel that he was unable to keep them safe. When that scent had struck his nose, he had given chase and he did not intend to be kind… necessarily.

You’re in our land, stranger.

There was more authority to his voice than had ever been there before. The dark tripod lifted his head to regard the scraggly figure.

Trespassing is not allowed.

sticklegs froze mid-step. the head swiveled as upon an owl's neck.

and the eyes went wide.



eurmal twisted the rest of her self. she stood arms apart, and hind-half jutting up, looking at the svart claiming this land.

"forgive us, bror." spoke the woman, tail swaying. "we hadn't thought this were taken land." and she grinned, wide and pristine.

The young wolf watched the girl’s eyes grow wide with surprise or fear. He never wanted to inspire that in another creature, if he could help it. Crowfeather was a leader, now. He couldn’t let trespassers enter their home without knowing that the hollow was claimed. This was Riverclan land, and the dark stranger would need to pledge herself to them or depart. Three legs or not, the shadow had grown considerably in forced independence.

Bror… what does that mean? he asked gently of the stranger. I can walk you to the borders, unless you’re looking for a place for yourself.

Crowfeather lifted his head and glanced to their peaceful home.

This is Riverclan.

"a clan?" breathed she, in awe, now dropping deeper into true bow. 

"a clan!"

and the wolfess rolled into the snow. stomach bared she wiggled, cackling with purest delight, shouting in the raven's tongue;

">a clan, brother threelegs has made a clan!<" 

until she had breathed in a clump of ice, and wheeze-coughing sat up to exhale, back turned to kinsman.

This one was… strange.

Crowfeather watched her curiously. His ears swiveled atop his head. Whiskers poked forward when she dropped into the snow to roll and wheeze and cackle about their clan. To the shadow, this was something he had never seen before. He wanted her to stop, but he wasn’t ready to face the consequences of asking her to do so.

When the dark woman spoke, it was in a tongue that reminded him strongly of Bjarna.

A clan, yes. Riverclan.

If he had understood her mad words, he might have been able to tell her that it had not been the clan that had made him a three-legged thing. It had been his own foolishness. The missing limb was a reminder of the mistakes he had made – it would always be there.

Do you need a home? You… you could stay- maybe. He still wasn’t sure.

she threw her head over her back, and gave him a downturned grin.

"yes."

eurmal again twisted herself, to come onto all fours and with a swishing tail approach brother threelegs.

"you ask us what bror means?" her eyes shone, her grin doing little to hamper how they stared. "it is brother. look, see?" and she extended an arm towards his. delight again, at how they were both scarred.

"svart. black. you and us." she looked at him again. "what is your name, bror threelegs, bror honey-gazed?"

feck, quick note; changed what language hel was speaking without editing the grammar, she should be saying; "brother threelegs has made a clan!" ^^''

I love this thread. <3

The young Star thought that he liked this strange woman. She spoke in a way that reminded him of Bjarna. Crowfeather only had positive memories of Bjarna, so his hopes were high for the peculiar wolf in front of him.

She called him brother. Honey eyes sparkled with wonder.

Then, the woman extended her arm to him to compare their shadows. Crowfeather stretched out tentatively with his snout and sniffed at her coat. She smelled of many places and things. He had no clue where to start with the questions that entered his head. Instead, he shook a little. She wanted to know his name and then called him brother-threelegs.

I am Crowfeather, he said breathlessly.

Who are you?

forgive me, college is crushing me but i'm catching up <333

her cackle was stifled, wrist reaching up to press against lip, lest bror ask what the joke is.

"kråke." hissed out between grinning teeth. eyes reaching trough his marred pelt, past the skin unfairly pale for them, past muscle and blood and bone and to the pure and unbleached marrow.

not ravn, but svart all the same.

her eyes swung up to his again; grin a fixture.

"we were once hel, of great ibenholtravn." she side-stepped, like a cat. she sought to circle. "but prærieulver, you know them," like a cat, she sought to brush against him. "their trollkvinne called us eurmal."

"but!"

a sudden jerk and she shut her jaws about his elbow, then leapt backwise - leaving naught a scratch. the madwoman dropped back into a pose for games.

"ibenholtravn is ash! the trollkvinne was ripped apart!" her cackle rose, her eyes grew watery with joy. she sprang up then rolled again into the snow.

"what worth a name when nobody speaks it!"

and on her back she shrieked, and laughed!

and laughed!

until her voice was choked by sobs.

and the madwoman put her paws over her face, her body wracked by joy.

No! Please, take all the time you need. ;w; <3

The dark woman said a word that he did not understand. He wondered if this was her name. It made him queasy to think of speaking it, butchering it with his tongue.

But the woman did not stop with one word. She began to tell him a story that was filled with similar-sounding words, things he had never heard before. Crowfeather listened to her with an intent face, ears drawn to a tall point on his dark head. Hel, Ibenholtravn, Trolkvinne, all spoken with a tongue that had been fashioned for such words. The uncertain tripod thought that they could have been names, perhaps.

The dark woman cackled with elation? Crowfeather wasn’t certain. He peered at her with concern brimming in the gold of his eyes.

Ibenholtravn is ash. A place, then! Trolkvinne could not be deciphered, yet. She said that it had been ripped apart. The tripod winced.

But she said something next that opened a crack in his defensive, fearful state. Sadness began to creep in like water through a crack in the wall. She asked what good a name was if there was no one who would speak it. Then she seemed to laugh, or cry. Crowfeather could not tell. He felt the drip, drip, drip, of sorrow in his heart.

I will speak it.

His voice was soft, earnest.

little quivers rattled each rib. chest contracted and expanded as the sac on a frog did. paws crossed at wrists hid eyes evenly.

there was a herd of thoughts stampeding trough the brain of wolf once called this, once called that, once called it.

and really, were it so wrong, to think those sounds deep from her self, the water from her eyes, were joy, seeping and oozing out?

even the grin was there, pristine starveling teeth shining-

and so quick did it wilt when bror crowfeather said his thing.

the wolfess rolled onto her ribs with a jolt - eyes now bloodshot as well as blood-red - wide-eyed and swallowing him. looking for ridicule, the joke - to laugh at herself as was right!

but crowfeather was a bee's milk. panes of obsidian face looking at her with-

pity.

her expression soured, like a nervous tic, and in next blink the grin had returned.

"so sweet, bror crowfeather." she purred, eyes hooding. again feline, she stretched. 

( how white her claws were )

"so," and she rose fast, not looking at his face, not wanting to see it. "will your skull recall it again? when you see us, will you know each name given, or will you stumble, and stutter, and pause?"

her muzzle rose until it were vertical.

"hva er et navn verdt når ingen husker det?" mocking him back, with the raven's tongue.

*casually lays groundwork for fresher thread now that i can reply faster* :)

If Crowfeather were a person, Eurmal would make him pee his pants. XD <3

The woman’s eyes were frightening and intense on him.

Crowfeather wished that he had not been the one to intercept her. He wished that he had never spoken or offered to remember her name. She asked if he would remember it. She asked him if he would stammer over it in his speech. The tripod did not think that he could deny such a thing. He was pathetic. He was pitiful and foolish. The shadow should have never offered what he could not uphold.

When she rambled to him in a tongue he didn’t recognize, Crowfeather swallowed at the lump in his throat.

Was that her name? Could he even remember such a thing?

Fear bubbled within him like a hot spring.

I-

The words choked in the back of his throat. Crowfeather felt his skin crawl, bristling the hairs at his neck out of instinct. He didn’t even know how to tell her that he could do it without stammering over the delivery. He hated it. He hated how weak he was. He hated that her eyes burned into him, striking fear in his heart that caused it to beat at a rabbit’s pace.

I will try my best. It was all he could ever do. And it – so often – was not enough.

Sandy to the rescue. I can delete this if you like just let me know.

Sandulf had not know what was going on and he didn't care to know. What he did know was that Crow looked uncomfortable and they couldn't have that. So with a boldness he usuallyl didn't share he moved his body forward. 

Small smile and then hip to shoulder, then shoulder to shoulder and body pushed partially protective in front of the male. He eyed the she wolf with the red burning eyes and the brown body. There was a sharpness to his gaze and his face and a small twitch in his jaw. The scar upon his muzzle dark in the light that glanced upon it.

All Good?

it brought delights to her heart, black as it was, good as it was, to see her words had brought him unease.

after laughter, it was the second best thing a jester could hope to invoke.

a second stranger came from the pines. he was less svart, but it did not offend. he angled his mass in a guard's way.

but she was done. another word would ruin the setup to this joke.

eurmal bowed deeply, then hopped up and twirled around. prancing, she went back the way she'd come, giggling as she went.

she'd come back for the punchline.

last <3