Firekeeper and Blind Seer (i_howl) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2008-08-09 15:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | blind seer, firekeeper, robin of locksley |
Wolves in the Commons (open)
((Just FYI, the dialogue in italics is these two speaking in Beast, which is (as far as I can figure) a mix of mostly body language and limited telepathy-ish, with some occasional vocal bits thrown in.))
Two days had passed. Two days of confusion where neither Firekeeper nor Blind Seer had any clue where they were or how they had arrived. There had been drowsing in the heat of the day, when it was too warm to travel to Hawk Haven from the Iron Mountains, and then there had been this new place, with its new smells and sounds and sights.
Once the initial anger and confusion had passed, Firekeeper had to admit that it could have been much worse. Outside of the green park ("The City Commons," Blind Seer had said, reading off of the signs where she could not) there was a new world of confusion that put Dragon's Breath to shame and made her want to run and hide. But here, in the park, things were calmer. The scents of plants and animals hid the worst of the new smells for her dead nose, and Blind Seer assured her that while the smells of the City outside were ever-present, he could almost ignore it. They found a little-traveled bridge by a stream deep in the heart of the park and made their den there. They hunted, after a fashion. There were many rabbits, squirrels, and fish, Cousin-kind all, but they had yet to see anything larger.
"We should prepare for a hunt, dear heart," Blind Seer said on the second afternoon. "Not only can we sate our bellies, but I think that we could both use the distraction. An empty belly fills the head."
Firekeeper rolled over on the soft grass, still sluggish and enjoying the warmth of the sun. "What would we hunt now? Are the rabbits from this morning gone so soon? Besides, I've yet to see anything larger than a raccoon in this place. I've certainly not scented any grass eaters of a size that would be worthy of a real hunt. Have you, then?"
"I would have told you if I had, but we have yet to roam all of this place."
She wrinkled her nose and frowned. A few years back and she wouldn't have bothered, but there were some human expressions that had crept in to her body language over the past two years. "But there's so many strange two-legs that pass through in other parts of this park."
"Are you afraid, Little Two-legs?" Blind Seer raised himself up imperiously. It was an impressive sight; he was massive, even for a Royal Wolf.
She growled at the use of her puppy name. The message was clear, that she was being childish. "I simply do not like them yet. They speak Pellish, but oddly. They smell of the city outside of this park, of metal and some foul burned substance. Their clothing is strange, and they may possess weapons that I do not yet know how to defend myself against." She flopped back down. "And they look at us so strangely."
"So did the humans from our homelands, and you shrugged it off then as a duck does water."
"Not at first," she grumbled, but she sat up nonetheless. "But if this fancy has overtaken your mind, then perhaps we can explore." This set off a few minutes of playful wrestling that left Firekeeper with some new bloodied scratches on her forearms--gentle though Blind Seer tried to be, human skin was so annoyingly fragile.
Some time later they came upon a thickly wooded area that Firekeeper was sure hadn't been there the day before. "Magic?" she asked.
"Perhaps. But..." Blind Seer's nostrils flared and his tail set to wagging. "I smell deer spoor. A doe's, and recent."
Firekeeper grinned. "Should we hunt now and fill your empty stomach to bursting?"
Blind Seer's tongue lolled in amusement. "I am not that much of a glutton. But I would like to see for myself what manner of deer this is, and perhaps discern how many there are. What use is it to stuff our bellies if the prey disappears before we are full?"
They explored the patch of woods, taking their time, and caught glimpses of at least two small herds of deer only slightly taller than Blind Seer. Once satisfied and cheered, they returned to their makeshift den under the bridge. Firekeeper killed a squirrel for her dinner, though Blind Seer declined her offer to catch some for him, as well. As a human, she needed smaller meals more regularly. He would be satisfied with one large meal at a later date.
As evening fell, the glow of the small fire illuminated the underside of the bridge, and the smell of roasting squirrel spitted on a stick began to waft out. Blind Seer snored next to her, a mound of thick gray fur who made sure to keep her between him and the fire, for fear of catching himself alight. She kept a careful watch on her dinner, huddled in on herself, dark eyes catching the firelight.