Cold Cuts From the Deli
Solo Hunt (Seasonal)
05-19-2020, 10:56 AM
The blizzard had been persisting for three days now. Amaranth’s makeshift den was comfortable enough, a bit cramped but warm once her own body heat was able to permeate. Once it had seemed apparent that the snow storm was here for an extended visit, she told herself to grow some ladyballs and start digging, and so she had. Now, nestled beneath the partially exposed roots of a stream-side cottonwood, a new problem arose.
Hunger... Her old nemesis. Ah, how she dreamed of the days where her needs were catered to, when food was deposited at her paws at her convenience. Now that she was definitely pretty much already grown up, basically, she’d have to fend for herself. It didn’t occur to her when she deviated off from her father and siblings that maybe winter wasn’t the best time for adventure, but too late for those thoughts now. It was cold, she was hungry, and she was going to have to do something about that.
Mara took a deep breath and put her game face on, whatever that was. She pushed out of her den, breaking through the shallow drift of snow that had enclosed her the night prior. She immediately regretted her decision. All around her the wind howled and wailed, and flung snow into her squinting eyes. How was anyone supposed to hunt in these conditions? She nearly turned back around, debating the merits of death by starvation versus death by exposure. Her stomach growled at her to get her ass moving, so she did.
It was the deepest snow she’d ever tried to traverse. In some places the drifts came up to her shoulders or even higher, and in the relentless wind she worried that any tracks would be blown over quickly. That is, if any prey animals were foolish enough to be out in these conditions in the first place. Like, hah! Who would be dumb enough to do that? She grumbled to herself as she trudged on, one paw after another. She couldn’t catch a scent, she could barely see, and the longer she thought about it, it would probably be nearly impossible to find her way back to her den unless she was mindful about her direction.
Mara did her best to leave signs for herself to follow back, leaping up every now and then to scratch marks on the trees she passed. She did her best to turn her muzzle into the wind, vying for anything that remotely resembled the scent of prey, but the wind against her wet nose was sharp and painful. She began looking for tufts of tall grass or shrubs peeking out from drifts of their own. It seemed to make sense that even if nothing was out and about, she might be able to find a rabbit or even a nest of mice hunkered down. She’d eat just about anything at this point as long as she could pat herself on the back, tell herself job well done, and get the fuck back in her den.
Mara pawed and nosed her way into several such places, but none proved fruitful. In the end she just ended up snowier and colder and grumpier. Snow sucked. It sucked hard. She reprimanded herself for ever sitting starry-eyed, listening to tales of glittering fields of endless white and thinking it sounded beautiful. Wrapped up in these dismal thoughts, she mindlessly trudged forward through another godsforsaken drift and tripped, toppling forward into yet another face full of snow. Spluttering, Mara popped up, swearing out a string of words that would make a sailor proud. What the hell was that?
The drift was not a drift at all, but a large solid mound with snow heaped over it. Turning around to investigate, her breath caught in her throat. Where she’d tumbled and knocked the snow aside she saw… fur? Frantically, Amaranth began digging to uncover more. Short fur, tawny brown. The creature was frozen stiff and most certainly dead, and it was undoubtedly a doe. She nearly jumped for joy, thinking that she must have been a very good girl this year to have been granted such a gift. In the end instead of taking down prey she had been the one to fall… Huh. Somehow, she didn’t think she’d be holding a grudge.
Now, the matter of getting food back to her den was another thing entirely. She point blank refused to stay out here any longer than absolutely necessary, but she couldn’t exactly drag this meaty block of ice all the way back to her tree. She knocked off the last of the snow and looked over the doe critically. It looked as if it had been caught out without shelter and frozen, probably sometime yesterday or last night. She was hard as a rock, but maybe Mara would be able to gnaw off a haunch? One way to find out.
She set about her task, exuberant and optimistic at first. She positioned herself at the deer’s belly, in a place where she would get a bit of respite from the wind when hunched down. It wasn’t much at all, but it was something. Her teeth scraped into the fur, and against the flesh. She might as well have been chewing through solid rock for all the progress she made. Mara nearly screamed. Okay, okay, she told herself. Chill the fuck out. You’re not gonna find anything better than this, so just get it done. So what if she lost a tooth or two? Better than ending up like the deer. Concluding her most excellent mental pep talk, she got down to work.
Mara didn’t know how long she spent gnawing, twisting, pulling, torquing the doe’s exposed haunch before she was finally able to tear it free. What she did know was that when she stood, the leg of the haunch clasped tightly in her jaws, her limbs were dangerously stiff with cold. Time to get back. She trotted back towards her den in a haze, proud of her foresight at leaving visible signs to follow. She was bordering on delirious given her hunger, the hard task of gnawing through rock-meat, and exposure. She would get back to her den, shiver for a bit, and when she’d warmed back up she would have a meal.
The entrance to her den when she finally came upon it looked like little more than a muskrat hole, having nearly drifted over again in her absence. She plunged through, swearing and thanking whoever might be listening in turns. She had made it. She had enough food for a few more days. She was fucking cold, but she’d done it.
WC: 1,112
OOC: If anyone wants to hop in and wait out the storm with Mara they're welcome to!
Hunger... Her old nemesis. Ah, how she dreamed of the days where her needs were catered to, when food was deposited at her paws at her convenience. Now that she was definitely pretty much already grown up, basically, she’d have to fend for herself. It didn’t occur to her when she deviated off from her father and siblings that maybe winter wasn’t the best time for adventure, but too late for those thoughts now. It was cold, she was hungry, and she was going to have to do something about that.
Mara took a deep breath and put her game face on, whatever that was. She pushed out of her den, breaking through the shallow drift of snow that had enclosed her the night prior. She immediately regretted her decision. All around her the wind howled and wailed, and flung snow into her squinting eyes. How was anyone supposed to hunt in these conditions? She nearly turned back around, debating the merits of death by starvation versus death by exposure. Her stomach growled at her to get her ass moving, so she did.
It was the deepest snow she’d ever tried to traverse. In some places the drifts came up to her shoulders or even higher, and in the relentless wind she worried that any tracks would be blown over quickly. That is, if any prey animals were foolish enough to be out in these conditions in the first place. Like, hah! Who would be dumb enough to do that? She grumbled to herself as she trudged on, one paw after another. She couldn’t catch a scent, she could barely see, and the longer she thought about it, it would probably be nearly impossible to find her way back to her den unless she was mindful about her direction.
Mara did her best to leave signs for herself to follow back, leaping up every now and then to scratch marks on the trees she passed. She did her best to turn her muzzle into the wind, vying for anything that remotely resembled the scent of prey, but the wind against her wet nose was sharp and painful. She began looking for tufts of tall grass or shrubs peeking out from drifts of their own. It seemed to make sense that even if nothing was out and about, she might be able to find a rabbit or even a nest of mice hunkered down. She’d eat just about anything at this point as long as she could pat herself on the back, tell herself job well done, and get the fuck back in her den.
Mara pawed and nosed her way into several such places, but none proved fruitful. In the end she just ended up snowier and colder and grumpier. Snow sucked. It sucked hard. She reprimanded herself for ever sitting starry-eyed, listening to tales of glittering fields of endless white and thinking it sounded beautiful. Wrapped up in these dismal thoughts, she mindlessly trudged forward through another godsforsaken drift and tripped, toppling forward into yet another face full of snow. Spluttering, Mara popped up, swearing out a string of words that would make a sailor proud. What the hell was that?
The drift was not a drift at all, but a large solid mound with snow heaped over it. Turning around to investigate, her breath caught in her throat. Where she’d tumbled and knocked the snow aside she saw… fur? Frantically, Amaranth began digging to uncover more. Short fur, tawny brown. The creature was frozen stiff and most certainly dead, and it was undoubtedly a doe. She nearly jumped for joy, thinking that she must have been a very good girl this year to have been granted such a gift. In the end instead of taking down prey she had been the one to fall… Huh. Somehow, she didn’t think she’d be holding a grudge.
Now, the matter of getting food back to her den was another thing entirely. She point blank refused to stay out here any longer than absolutely necessary, but she couldn’t exactly drag this meaty block of ice all the way back to her tree. She knocked off the last of the snow and looked over the doe critically. It looked as if it had been caught out without shelter and frozen, probably sometime yesterday or last night. She was hard as a rock, but maybe Mara would be able to gnaw off a haunch? One way to find out.
She set about her task, exuberant and optimistic at first. She positioned herself at the deer’s belly, in a place where she would get a bit of respite from the wind when hunched down. It wasn’t much at all, but it was something. Her teeth scraped into the fur, and against the flesh. She might as well have been chewing through solid rock for all the progress she made. Mara nearly screamed. Okay, okay, she told herself. Chill the fuck out. You’re not gonna find anything better than this, so just get it done. So what if she lost a tooth or two? Better than ending up like the deer. Concluding her most excellent mental pep talk, she got down to work.
Mara didn’t know how long she spent gnawing, twisting, pulling, torquing the doe’s exposed haunch before she was finally able to tear it free. What she did know was that when she stood, the leg of the haunch clasped tightly in her jaws, her limbs were dangerously stiff with cold. Time to get back. She trotted back towards her den in a haze, proud of her foresight at leaving visible signs to follow. She was bordering on delirious given her hunger, the hard task of gnawing through rock-meat, and exposure. She would get back to her den, shiver for a bit, and when she’d warmed back up she would have a meal.
The entrance to her den when she finally came upon it looked like little more than a muskrat hole, having nearly drifted over again in her absence. She plunged through, swearing and thanking whoever might be listening in turns. She had made it. She had enough food for a few more days. She was fucking cold, but she’d done it.
WC: 1,112
OOC: If anyone wants to hop in and wait out the storm with Mara they're welcome to!