nothing to see here don't mind me

The small dik-dik who had appeared at her den continued to show itself, again and again until eventually Aryn accepted him as her own. The horns upon the creatures head almost mirrored her own, perhaps another sign that there was a plan for her, and now for this little deer. Her injured paw was healing at an excruciatingly slow pace, and it was only further bothered by the fact she was forced to walk to do the menial grunt work of the punished. Forcing herself to limb did manage to reduce the pain in her paw, but the unbalance of use in muscle overworked and pained her maimed chest. Neither wound would heal well or quickly without a long period of rest, but Aryn could not anticipate what Recluse's next punishment may be if she were caught slacking in her duties.

The maim was something Aryn had quickly decided she did not want to ever happen again. The only way another wolf would hurt her in this way again was if they earned it, and never again would she lay at an aggressor's paws and accept it. Training herself to fight was a stupid concept, but Aryn could not risk asking Recluse to be trained officially. The alpha might take it to mean Aryn was arming herself against her, and she couldn't risk the punishments she may accrue under that line of questioning.

Her first self-assigned task was to craft for herself a weapon, something that she could use to at the very least feign bravery in the face of combat. She limped across the territory, scavenging sharp rocks and vines and sticks until she and her small dik dik could carry no more. With both mouths full the pair turned into the trees and found themselves an out-of-the-way corner behind a boulder, laid out their supplies, and got to work.

The dik-dik, bless his heart, was not as helpful as Aryn had initially daydreamed he may be. While, she supposed, he might have a use in real combat, as a crafting assistant he did no more than occasionally wrap himself in vine, or kick one of her better rocks into the brush. He was delegated to 'look out', thankfully taking his shut-up-go-away position with a happy bouncing step in his hooves.

Free of the deer distraction, Aryn stared down at her materials deep in thought. She hadn't the slightest clue what sort of weaponry wolves used in battle, what shape it should be, what material it should be made of, nor how the weapons were even used in combat. A life outside the battlefield had left her woefully unprepared. A few rocks in particular in her pile stood out as somehow 'better' then the others, so she pushed aside the lumpy stones in favor of them. How was she even to hold the weapon? If she had some way to break into the rock she could jam a stick inside to hold onto from, but there was not a wolf in the world with teeth strong enough to bore through stone.

It definitely made sense that she'd need a hand hold of some type however, so she moved onto the vine. Holding the rock in her good paw, she used her teeth and muzzle to gingerly try and tie or wrap the vine around the stone. It came out messy and bunched in places, and when she grabbed hold of the free end of the vine Aryn found it simply unraveled and dropped the rock. Sighing through her failure, she tossed the vine to her side and bore her stare down toward the sticks once more. If she could find a way to get a hole...

Aryn picked up one of her good rocks and with a hard flick of her head, threw it against the large boulder that guarded her. It made a loud clacking sound that both startled the Dik-Dik and Aryn herself, but with the clack the stone began to split. It wasn't a hole, but it hadn't fully broken off yet either. Aryn grasped the stone once more and threw it at the boulder, harder. The crack pulled another panicked grunt from the incompetent creature, but Aryn ignored it and rushed toward the grass to find her rock.

Where it had cracked and split, the rock had thinned itself. There was a larger, pointier part at the tip, but the base was thin and.. sort of flimsy, but able to be held in her maw. Now that she had the ground work, Aryn went back for the vine. Thankfully it had not broken with the way she'd wrapped it in the rock, for now she could use it for a softer and sturdier rock-handle. She held the pointy tip of the rock into the ground to steady it, and then began to wrap the vines around the thin base, using her canine tooth to poke the vine into itself when it was done being wrapped.

Pleased with her creation, Aryn took a moment to hold it in her maw and feel it's (insignificant) weight. Was this what it felt like to be prepared for battle? She doubted it. Perhaps that feeling came later, when you had a few wins and experience under your belt. She turned her head and called out for her Dik-Dik, who clambered down from his lookout post on the boulder and bounded up behind her rear.

The walk back to her den was slow and torturous, her paw sending a new wave of paw up her leg every step she took and the 'knife' in her maw making her feel like she'd be targeted and attacked any moment. A few times a distant noise would make her stop and hide, or quicken her already painful pace to get there faster. Her Dik-Dik started to feel her panic, flinching at falling leaves and snapping twigs as they walked. By the time she made it back to the den her paw was on fire, but Aryn still held her weapon in her maw. She stashed it in a pre-dug hole, then hastily buried it beneath loose soil.


Word Count: 1027