Post by //Sterlingsilver// on Feb 25, 2009 20:01:43 GMT -6
No home. No family to welcome her. Alone. She had no home now. No loved ones. All she felt was the weariness of her paws, the heaviness of her heart. She felt empty, and not just because of the hunger gnawing at her belly. Her light amber eyes watched the narrow horse trail she was walking on, but never saw anything. She was an Outcast.
The tall, strong dire wolf was pretty even now, ragged though she was. Her back, ears, muzzle, and paws were black, while her belly, face, legs, and tail were cinnamon-gray, reddish in color. Her tall frame was filled out with plenty of strong, lean muscle, and she looked as f she could both run and fight. And she had, many a time. A barely scabbed wound on her shoulder had broken open, and it was bleeding. She felt no pain from it, now, though she had before. It hadn't had the chance to heal while she was running. It was only a matter of time before infection would set in, she knew.
She shook her head, forcing thoughts into her mind. She looked up, for the first time really seeing the land she was in. It was a green valley, and elk, bison, and horse scent was all over the trails. It was easy to see why. It was lush, and good grass and forage grew everywhere. She also saw a blue stream creating a pool near the center of the valley, and elk drank from it. Hunger clawed her belly, so ignoring her shoulder wound, she moved down the trail silently, heading for a trail that would intercept the elks' path as they moved away from the water to forage.
She waited patiently. A youngster was having trouble keeping up. It had been born too late in the year, and was weak, trailing behind the last member of the herd, bleating pitifully. Its mother ignored it, as if she knew her calf was about to die. The she-wolf stayed motionless until the calf pulled even with her, then charged. She wasn't as tall as the calf, but outweighed it by almost 100 pounds, and her rush bowled it over, knocking it breathless. A quick bite to the throat, and its troubles were over.
She ate, then slept, then ate some more, cleaning her wound. It wasn't bad. She had been looking around. The land was nearly as good as that she was born into, but drier. She liked it; the air was clear and clean, and water flowed year-round, judging by the size of the small lake in the valley. She wondered how the Venator could have left this place alone. Then again, it was small wonder. They only took enough land to support all the prey they needed, and that was one difference between them and the Decerto. Besides the fact that the Decerto had only one leader, and no Chosen, the Decerto had a wide swath of land to the north, whereas the Venator owned only the southeastern and south-central parts of the continent. It was all they needed; they saw no reason to have more.
The she-wolf drew herself up once more, and padded to the pool of water for a drink. It quenched her parched throat, and she took the opportunity to clean her wound, and to get the mud out of her fur. Dripping from the cold water, she curled up on a warm rock to doze. This land was hers, now. She had as much claim to it as anybody had. The other Tainted Ones would respect her claim. She was Altsoba, after all.
The tall, strong dire wolf was pretty even now, ragged though she was. Her back, ears, muzzle, and paws were black, while her belly, face, legs, and tail were cinnamon-gray, reddish in color. Her tall frame was filled out with plenty of strong, lean muscle, and she looked as f she could both run and fight. And she had, many a time. A barely scabbed wound on her shoulder had broken open, and it was bleeding. She felt no pain from it, now, though she had before. It hadn't had the chance to heal while she was running. It was only a matter of time before infection would set in, she knew.
She shook her head, forcing thoughts into her mind. She looked up, for the first time really seeing the land she was in. It was a green valley, and elk, bison, and horse scent was all over the trails. It was easy to see why. It was lush, and good grass and forage grew everywhere. She also saw a blue stream creating a pool near the center of the valley, and elk drank from it. Hunger clawed her belly, so ignoring her shoulder wound, she moved down the trail silently, heading for a trail that would intercept the elks' path as they moved away from the water to forage.
She waited patiently. A youngster was having trouble keeping up. It had been born too late in the year, and was weak, trailing behind the last member of the herd, bleating pitifully. Its mother ignored it, as if she knew her calf was about to die. The she-wolf stayed motionless until the calf pulled even with her, then charged. She wasn't as tall as the calf, but outweighed it by almost 100 pounds, and her rush bowled it over, knocking it breathless. A quick bite to the throat, and its troubles were over.
She ate, then slept, then ate some more, cleaning her wound. It wasn't bad. She had been looking around. The land was nearly as good as that she was born into, but drier. She liked it; the air was clear and clean, and water flowed year-round, judging by the size of the small lake in the valley. She wondered how the Venator could have left this place alone. Then again, it was small wonder. They only took enough land to support all the prey they needed, and that was one difference between them and the Decerto. Besides the fact that the Decerto had only one leader, and no Chosen, the Decerto had a wide swath of land to the north, whereas the Venator owned only the southeastern and south-central parts of the continent. It was all they needed; they saw no reason to have more.
The she-wolf drew herself up once more, and padded to the pool of water for a drink. It quenched her parched throat, and she took the opportunity to clean her wound, and to get the mud out of her fur. Dripping from the cold water, she curled up on a warm rock to doze. This land was hers, now. She had as much claim to it as anybody had. The other Tainted Ones would respect her claim. She was Altsoba, after all.