HEY. Hey you. Yeah, you.
Nyxxx
01-19-2020, 12:58 PM
As the season progressed there had been several days that hinted at a true Borean summer, though to say so with confidence seemed a bit impudent. It was still unseasonably cool, no matter how pleasant and mild the day found her, and this one was no different. It was overcast and dimly lit with clouds instead of smoke choking the sun but Thistle didn’t appreciate the conditions any more for it. It did not rain or drizzle, but she found herself in a mood all the same. Thistle grumbled, even as she sidled up to a rough-barked spruce, practically fashioned by the gods as the ideal scratching post. She rubbed her flank along its trunk, grumbling through what might have otherwise been a delighted sigh. She was in a mood, godsdammit, and she intended to maintain it. After all, it had been two days since she’d last found a substantial meal and even at noon the day was gray so she felt a bit entitled. Slowly but surely Thistle began to make her way south and west. A half day’s travel here and there, the occasional late night holing up long after the sun had set, and she slowly began to feel the effects of the new climate. It was drier, warmer, and of course the flora around her began to change as well. Thistle moved her mind from hunting hare to hunting jackrabbits, from voles to prairie dogs. The sun did not stay in the sky for quite so long, but then again, she hardly had time to notice. Thistle found herself missing the constant and reliable comfort that the caves of the north had provided her. Each night in the west found her scrabbling for makeshift shelter, often little more than a dug out badger hole or a depression dipping low enough to keep her out of the wind. The tundra was traded for red soils and sand, and day by day Thistle found herself missing the north. There’s bound to be something worthwhile here, she told herself. One more day. Only, it had been several days now, and that found her grumpy and… Squirmy. Which to those unfortunate few who could claim to know her well meant mischief was likely hot on her heels. Nature and origin yet undetermined, but mischief all the same. |