Somebody save me
03-18-2014, 10:39 PM
| Cormalin |
|
Cormalin was wandering a little wider than the borders today. Beyond Valhalla?s borders, it seemed rather barren, with this area being dangerous. To the south lay WolfPaw Lake, and it seemed none of the moisture from the lake was making it to this place, the Sycari strip. To the South East, Emerald Valley, now claimed by Olympus, and to his west, Vericona Plains, lush with wild hay, though Fall was slowly beginning to arrive. He glanced up at the hot sun, quietly wishing that he?d been born with white fur rather than black, and that was when the weak moan and the sound of a body collapsing on the ground caught his ears. He took off at a careful trot, mindful of the cracks in the ground, leaping over the wider ones that could have swallowed him up, until he found the crumpled, unconscious form of a Glaciem female. She was familiar, too. Rincavornon?s mother. He hadn?t caught her name. What was a Glaciem female doing this close to Valhallan territory, and in this state? One jowl curled in growing disgust as he looked her over. Was Isardis so high and mighty that he couldn?t give a flying damn about how his members were faring? This woman was emaciated, and sick; he could smell the illness and fever rolled off of her, palpable. He shifted uneasily from one paw to the other, looking about with wary mistmatched gold and blue eyes. Was it a trap? Heavy tail lashed with indecision. If he helped her, and she went home with Valhallan scent all over her, it could mean trouble for both her and his pack. However, he was no better than Isardis if he left her here to die. So with a stifled groan, he lowered his head and gently fastened his jaws on the female?s scruff and lifted her slowly, looking around and trying to recall where there might be water. The river from Vericona Plains flowed past the edge of this barren, blasted place. He sighed through his nose, a muffled grumble uttering from around the unconscious female?s scruff and fur, and he turned, traversing the dangerous scape, hot wind blasting against his side, buffeting the long ruff fur about his chest and nape. He traveled for what felt like hours, but was really only one, until he finally saw a glint of late summer green that marked the river?s path. Unceremoniously, the aging Gamma dropped the female in a shallow part of the water, keeping her head on the shore. It was a spot with little current, just enough to keep algae from forming at the edges, and she wouldn?t drift off if he let go, so he released her scruff and quickly waded into the water, dunking himself thoroughly to beat the heat, before he straightened and glanced over at the female. With how thin she was, she would need food. Something to dampen the fever? he sloshed out of the water as his eyes landed on a small, scraggly stand of Yarrow near the shore, close enough to grow from the moisture, but far enough away to not grow quite enough to spread. He snipped a stem or two, and dropped them near the female, then padded along the riverside, looking for a calm place, then hunkered down at the edge, waiting patiently. Akana had taught him all about fishing techniques, and he?d become a dab hand at fishing, though venison was always his preferred meat of choice. A glint of scales, an undulating body making itself comfy in the water near his position. He timed it just right, and lunged, not trying to catch the fish by snapping right at the image. Akana had said something about the water made the image of the fish slightly off kilter with it?s actual placement. His jaws clamped upon the wriggling, scaly body and he hauled himself and his catch from the water, face pouring water. It was a nice sized pike. Enough for a wolf the female?s size. Fish flavored blood rolled over his tongue as he ended the fish?s struggle with an abrupt crunch. He padded over to the female, dropping the fish beside her and nosing her gently. ?Come on, Lady, wake up. It?s not a good idea to be this close to an enemy pack?? Baritones were low and encouraging, as he pulled away and chewed the Yarrow into a paste, smearing the paste into the fish scales so that if she ate, she?d consume the plant. Then he sat back, and waited, casting glances all about to be sure he wasn't about to be ambushed. |
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