Overture Downs returning home

Having spent a sufficient amount of time away, Orca felt now was as good a time as any to return home. Even despite being encouraged to stay through the Winter, Orca was determined to reunite with her family again. No one’s advice was heeded as Orca fell into the throes of the arrogance of youth. 

The hunting was hard, and Orca found out early on that the energy wasted on chasing a rabbit (especially when she failed) was simply not worth it, and that became all the more true as her energy levels reduced the hungrier she became. Scavenging felt like the next best thing, which it had been… even if only briefly. One had to look out for other larger predators in those moments, and with no one to watch her back Orca experienced the difficulty of what she had supposed would be so simple. Now, she had been warned of this—but it turned out Orca needed to live it to fully understand it. 

And then there was the traveling itself. With no one to carve the path for her, on days of heavy snow Orca learned to conserve her energy for a time as to not overexert herself. Sometimes, Orca wondered if she slept more hours than the miles that she had traveled. It taught her a great deal of patience, but the mental battle against her own stubbornness to earn that had been an exhausting one. 

Needless to say she returned to the Wilds with an appetite. She had lost some weight and perhaps some of her dignity, but no one needed to know the latter part. Orca also hated to be alone for so long, though had learned to live with it—in her own way. 

Oi! she snapped at a tree that she had not been looking out for, more than a little tired by now. Her light step had turn into a heavy plod, and Orca knew she would need to settle in for a nap soon. But she hoped against hope that first, she might find something to scavenge. She blinked at the tree and laughed quietly to herself, now taking a better look at her surroundings. Orca chided herself for both her own noise and the way that she had drifted, but she could smell no predators from here. 

That was luck, and she hoped for more of it. The day was young, and so Orca knew there could be a chance that there was.

trudging through the snow with the single-minded drive of a semi, gun certainly didn't smell killer; her current perfume was a charming blend of wet dog and minty ice, and the wind had found itself with better things to do than disperse it.

the yelp perked her ears. gun stopped, then squinted out over the blinding expanse of white.

there. something canine-lookin', colored like a killer whale. small - but, her sense for size was long fucked blind.

gun went on. standing still left time for the chill to creep in. warmth was needed, and as she woofed a baritone bark toward lil whale, she guessed how to get it.