Because Of You
08-08-2013, 08:01 PM
Cut me loose
My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle
Orica thanked whatever stars were watching over that the male was too settled to jump to possible subtext like hers. She could be such a silly little girl sometimes, and she mentally chided herself, forgetting that she was only a yearling. A sigh fluttered softly from her lips as her mind raced to a new topic. She didn't have more time to think about things now. She pulled out the first tale that came to mind. Short and sweet and adventurous; Demyan would like this one. Orica wriggled just a bit more, nestling herself comfortably into the side of the male, letting the border between their fur blur and letting their body heat mingle. It was cozy, like a warm meal on a chilly morning or a pretty song on a scary night. It didn't make sense - that she could feel such innocent comfort and security around this beast- it didn't make any sense at all... until one considered the moments they'd already shared. The heart-stopping kiss, the night side by side, and... -perhaps what stood out most starkly to Orica- that moment when things had first changed: When Demyan had gone from death-bringer to protector: The pink-eyed sister had been there grinning, well, wolfishly, telling her to leave, and then the grey hunter had risen, wounds and all, and began plodding forward til his bloody shadow loomed over her. Orica had been certain then that she was dead. In a moment his jaws would lower and she would be choking over the teeth in her throat. It had almost literally scared her to death. But she hadn't run, she knew that she couldn't outrun them both and that death would come quicker if she'd held still. ... But then, even, when the male had had perfect oppurtunity, his head was in a completely different place. He'd turned around to face his sister and threatened her with death if she touched a hair on the healer's head. The world had tilted in a different direction then, for both of them really. And Orica had found a shred of protection, a lifeline, in the brush of the male's tail against her forelegs. Now, in this moment, she could think of no place safer. Despite the storm. Despite the cold. Despite the dark. Despite even that creepy cat. All these thoughts ran through her head in a matter of seconds. There was only a slight pause between the grey male's question and her own hurried reply. "Yes, I know all sorts of stories about them. But I have a different one in mind." She cleared her throat and began: Once upon a time, about four-no-five years ago, in a land far away from here, there was a pack which called itself Glaciem. It was started by a white and brown fae named Aunt Crusadey-er- Crusade. It was really more of a family than a pack; they all had to be close, living together in the Far North where blizzards like this were an every other week sort of thing. They also had to face monsters like wild boar and mountain cats and - once!- even one of the great white bears came down out of the Arctic, mad with hunger and killed two strangers on the border. Chief Crusade and a hunting party of some of her finest braves were hunting musk ox along their southern hills. She'd taken the rear guard when she heard what was the poor rogues' final cries for help. In a moment the Chief had howled her wolves together. There was Insomnia, the quickest runner to ever grace the snows. There was the purple eyed male -oh I forget what his name was - K-something? And there was Cifer, the green eyes Arctic warrior who was known for being silent as stone. Crusade, with head high barked out that they were not ending their end - merely changing their prey - and off they ran together, like baying hounds on a scent. When they reached the border the bear was snarling and preparing to eat the wolves it had already slain. It was huge - even as bears go. An aged male with a scared muzzle and a starved frame. It's beady eyes were blazed and blinded by anger. It snarled at the newcomers! But it only goaded them all on. Crusade snapped out orders. One wolf to the right hind leg, one wolf to the left. Cifer, the bulkiest of the group, was to come with her as they took the front. Bears are such massive creatures. There's really no way a wolf can have time to bite through all their neck fur and fat to get anywhere near the vitals or the spine. The best way to take one down is first to take out the legs! But to do that they needed a distraction and Crusade and Cifer were perfectly prepared to do that. They charged the bear head on, dodging this way and that to avoid the dreaded claws. The bear twisted it's head this way and that - attacked from all sides! But Crusade took a misstep and caught a side sweep that sent her rolling back into the snow. In retaliation, Cifer clamped down on one of the forepaws. The purple eyed brave tore at the ligments. Insomnia climbed the bear itself and sought a tooth-hold between the shoulders. The monster flung Cifer away like a rag doll and rose up high onto it's wounded hind legs. But back up came Crusade, ignoring the cracked ribs in her side. There were near the waterfalls. Very near. In all the chaos the great beast had backed itself closer and closer to the icey ledge. It was now or never. The Chief howled for her braves to drive it closer. But the bear had a will to live as strong as any other beast's. At last, with the other pack mates fallen back, Crusade finished it - sprinting forward and throwing herself like a battering ram into the top of the creature's chest. One last step... and then all was falling. Even as gravity clawed at them though, Crusade pushed off the white blur beneath her and strained for the lip of stone. She made it - that is, her forepaws did, but she came down so hard on the edge of her belly that her already sprained ribs broke and she saw nothing but stars. The paws slipped. For a heartbeat Aunt Cru-er- Crusade knew she was going to die. But then came the sudden clamp on her scruff. The weight returned to her body, and she looked up to see the wounded Cifer, straining and hauling to bring her back onto solid ground. The Glaciems won the battle that day. And Uncle Cifer won Aunt Crusade's heart. Orica was not the greatest storyteller. Some things she forgot. Some things she left out. Some things she could even pronounce, but she had a knack for really getting into the tales. Her sapphires glowed when she spoke about the proud past of her bloodline. At parts her curled tail shook with excitement and her chest rose and fell with emotion. And other times were voice grew quiet and her ears tapered back. All the while her forepaws remained folded delicated in her the fur of her chest, and her head remained cushioned by the male's leg - (save when she was straining it upwards with eagerness) As was customary now that it was over, the little girl closed her eyes and bobbed her chin in semblence of a bow, just as her family had done at the end of their dramatic tellings. But then she was just beaming again, wondering what her audience had thought. ooc: 1,299 words dawg XD |
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