"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
12-31-2016, 08:46 PM (This post was last modified: 01-04-2017, 06:40 PM by fur.)
be humble, for you are made of earth
She had the taste of something strange in her mouth --
A shadow; black and slithering.
It was fear, bilious and dark. Fear that crawled up her throat and silenced her tongue, made it thick and dumb with a debilitating dryness that no manner of lip-licking or chewing could negate. Saliva and sound had simply dried up. Or maybe, her fear had eaten it for dinner as it slowly paralyzed her limb by limb until she stood frozen in a pantomime of step - one hoof raised, as if to plow forth on its intended course; ears pricked at a sound that should not have been; eyes, dark and glossy and flicking around. Some instinct had cautioned her to freeze, one made in the marriage of horse and deer blood.
In that moment, she could not say which was the heavier - the growing antlers atop her head, the thick meaty thud of heart in her wild breast, or the way the silence seemed too loud in her eyes.
The taste in her mouth began to leave, and the air seemed to come back into her lungs with a forceful heave of her breast. Slowly, one by one, her limbs began to loosen and the raised hoof fell back to the dirt with the tiniest puff of dust to show that it had ever dared to take a step forward. It seemed that in that moment, she forgot the very thing that had first driven her forth - the flight, the fear, the freeze. She forgot too, that she had been cast out of the herd, too unlike them now that she produced her first set of antlers still in velvet - only the bucks did that, few does could lay claim to such a feat and they found her strange enough as it was!
It had been doe’s milk that had suckled her up from a tumultuous beginning. Doe’s milk and love that had held her fast to life, and though she had learned of horses (some more fanciful than others!), she had never thought to cast her lot in amongst them - never thought that her hooves left the same mark in the earth that a horse’s did, and not the cloven print of a deer. Never mind that her shape was all wrong too; too thick, too tethered to earth, and she had not their leanness and grace. She often lagged behind, saturated with meat and blood in ways that they were not. These differences never occurred to her until now, the moment that fear slackens her jaw and leaves it loose, almost dumb in its still befuddled stupor.
Fur could not believe it - she had been scared of a mouse.
Her dark eyes took in the scurried path as it crossed the trail behind her, and a look of consternation vexed her young face. A mouse! She shook her head, bits of forelock tangling in the brow tines of her antlers; she had become so timid, so terrified, of mice and shadows it seemed! Fur guffawed at herself for a moment before stamping the earth with feet heavy with anger, mostly at herself for being so afraid of the forest! The forest, that had always mothered her as best as it could given that she was a mutation of a species meant more for places like plains and mountains, deserts even but not the dark crowded reaches of a forest choked with the moss and bracken and thousands of trees, half of which she could not even name. How foolish!
It was this foolishness that spurred her forward; drove her out into their midst in a manner of cracking branches and haste until she drew up short, surprised, breathless even.
Fur then, was at a loss --
She had stumbled into the field in her mad dash from the forest.
It smelled; like what, she could not even think, only that it held not the scent of moss and branch, but something of staleness. Her eyes rolled; she did not like it here!
He could still smell traces of his blood as he stared in the direction of the horrific scene. In his mind, he saw every gory detail, felt ever rip and tear. Heard every scream. His screams. They'd shaken the leaves above, deep within the Forest, shattered the peace, if there had been any with that demon poisoning the earth with his presence. The trees had stood witness, as they always did, silently passing judgement. Would they have helped, had they been animated? Would they have defended their wolf?
His heart thumped painfully with the memory, and he tore his eyes away. With heavy steps, he passed over the place where the monster had torn his wings from his flesh and bone, only to attach them to himself with demented pleasure.
Ruan had become something else after that. Someone cold and distant. Wary, cautious.
His daughters had once warmed his sides, sheltered beneath pale, protective wings as they adjusted to their new lives with him. Now there was only a gaping lack. No children, no wings. Only violent, welted scars against a milky-white backdrop and dark purple spots.
A thump nearby withdrew him from his brooding. Bright eyes once again lit with magic turned toward the disturbance. He took a moment to analyze the different aromas, breathing deep and quiet. This forest always reminded him of the Valley and the forest there, where he'd run with the wolves. But this one lacked their scent; no pack lived here. Instead he only smelled the woods, the leaves, the small creatures that resided within. And deer.
The cervines typically kept away from the border, most especially to the Field with its constant array of travelers. He'd had no intention of going there today, but found himself haunting closer to investigate. The young one had just thrown herself into the open when he caught sight of her. He paused and watched as her little body froze. Even this brief glimpse at her behavior reminded him of Terra, his wild one. He'd found her in the forest as a wee little thing, and after finally gaining her trust he'd taken her home. He hadn't adopted a child since, hadn't even thought of it, but the memory of feral baby Terra and her similarities to this girl had him subconsciously rethinking that.
Come away, little one. You don't want out there.
He stayed beneath the canopy, sunlight randomly spilling through and igniting over his spine. His voice was low and steady, and glacial blue eyes studied her blankly. The Field was no place for a child; all manner of beasts roamed there. Some were taken by force on occasion, and he found he didn't much like the thought of it happening to her as he observed how she'd respond to him. He was a bit of a wolf in his way after all, wasn't he?
01-04-2017, 06:42 PM (This post was last modified: 01-04-2017, 06:50 PM by fur.)
be humble, for you are made of earth
It smelled like them - Other;
The longer she lingers, the stronger their scents grow.
Fur snorts; tries to force the smell of them from her nostrils but it does no good.
She sucks at the air, tries to take in the smells of the forest at her back but all she gets is lungful after lungful of field: crushed grass, churned earth, horsehair, and a thin current of fear running underneath it all. (Seems she was not the only one afraid here, from horse to mouse - fear found them all.) Because of that, she stamps a hoof deeper into the dirt, clearly displeased at her own realizations about this place and none of them are good.
Her mind ticks and turns, from one thought to the next - forest, fear, mouse, me, and most of it is nonsensical. Okay, not entirely nonsensical… maybe, more instinctual as she reacts first and thinks later. Her black eyes stray as much as her mind does; looking first to the Others before her then casting furtive glances back at the forest that flanks her. Fur would never be able to say what it was that she was looking for, most likely assurance of some kind and most likely from a deer’s face or the familiar trunk of a tree (except trees cannot offer assurance, they can only offer staunch boughs and bark). She tasted the coppery beginnings of fear again in the back of her mouth; had to bite it back, especially as the disembodied voice spoke to her, spooking her.
Fur gave a visible start; she spun around and her eyes darted amongst the forest shadows, searching until they fall on him. She only knows it is a male from the deepness of his voice and the smell (her horse’s nose betrays her, sniffs him out, declares him friend - not foe, not yet anyway…) of him that is so tangled up in forests, maybe not this one that she has come to know, but another like it, since all forests are related somehow. It is this forest-smell that emboldens her approach towards him, though she hesitates because his eyes are so chilly and blank and such a blue that she has never seen except in the confines of mountainous arms and ice. His eyes give her pause and she cocks her head to one side; she’s not quite sure how to respond to him - deer spoke in grunts and bleats, and she had come to do so too. He did neither - no grunt, no snort-wheeze, and the tone of his voice was cajoling in the sense that it lulled her into trusting him.
She came closer, and closer --
Her little nose stretched up to hover scant inches from his as she inhaled his scent and said one of the few words she could recall - “Tree.” It made sense to her, he smelled like trees, but not these trees - they smelled sad and old, maybe because of all the fear in the field that sucked the happy green life right out of them.
She startled at his voice and immediately spun around to face him. It only took her a moment to spot him, and he held her gaze without expression. Waiting. How deep did her fear run? Would it corrupt her ability to trust him, or anyone but herself?
She stepped towards him, but hesitated. Still, he stood steady, letting her work it out for herself. Allowing her to come to her own decisions. Dare to trust, or flee? She was so much like the creatures she resembled, a cautious little fawn. But she was a horse beneath those antlers, and had probably been chased out of whatever family unit she may have had before now.
More careful inching and her nose stretched towards him. He didn't push closer, but didn't retreat. A warm breath swept his scent to her instead, his face softening at her courage. It must have taken a lot for her to take those steps. He would reward her with a touch, but thought better of it for now in case it startled her. He was a stranger, an unknown. It wouldn't do to push her further than she was ready.
"Tree," she said simply. He smiled kindly and edged the tiniest bit closer, but stopped. Yes, he confirmed needlessly, Many trees.
He paused, bright eyes studying her quietly for a few moments. Then, he pulled back, and did something he'd never done before. Ice pooled at two matching points on his skull, then lengthened and formed into his own rack of antlers. Large and curving forward, they had five points each, and then were frosted over to a soft white. He shook his head a little, testing the new weight and balance of them. There, see? Not so different, are we?
Do you want to see my forest? he asked gently. I will bring you back, if you like. Or you can stay.
01-11-2017, 01:15 PM (This post was last modified: 01-11-2017, 01:29 PM by fur.)
It tickled!
He blew a breath back in her face and she wrinkled her nostrils at it; it tickled!
Suddenly her heart hurt and she thought he was going to touch to her, but he didn’t. It made her miss the slim muzzle of the doe-mother and the way she’d blow the fuzzy flaxen baby hairs back from her brow, then gently nose the tiny antler nubs she’d always find there. Fur found herself holding her breath, afraid to breathe because of how she yearned to be touched like that again, pushed in close to a side that promised warmth and safety.
“Many,” he says.
“Many,” she echoes in a small voice, as he takes a tiny step towards her then stops.
She feels small beneath the bright intensity of his eyes and she ducks her antlered head shyly.
Only seconds go by, but it feels like too many.
She looks up and cannot believe her eyes!
Why, he looks like a horse-buck! Only his antlers are far more impressive than any of the other bucks’ that she has seen. Five majestic points and how they gleam! Like bones, the moon, and snow. She realizes her mouth is still hanging open and promptly closes it, not knowing what to say or even if she is dreaming. Fur blinks her eyes rapidly to clear them, but the rack is still there and she inches closer to him. Her eyes narrow in suspicion but he looks like her, antlers and all. “How?” is all she can manage to ask him, not fully remembering how she knows that word or exactly what it means but he was like her, only not - he was still Other, more fully so than she could ever be.
Fur takes a step back, still eyeing him warily as he talks to her in a voice that is low and soothing. It cajoles her forward again and she is surprised to find that she is nodding her assent to him, maybe because he said things like forest and safe and those things made sense to her. The quick manifestation of antlers on his head still strikes her as peculiar but Fur, as does the dark thread of something that is not horse or deer that ties itself up in his scent and makes her curious as to why it raises alarm bells in her blood, but Fur takes one small step that brings her closer to his side to show that she trusts him.
"How?"
Her innocent astonishment tugged a smile from him. The wonder in her eyes warmed him through, this man of ice. She reminded him what it was like to have a child at his feet, and how badly he missed it. It surprised him just how much. Not just any child. One like her; a bit wild, like him. It made him feel more connected, less like a man without a purpose. Drifting from one responsibility to another. The monotony that had settled so solidly in his life. Maybe in his way, he needed her as much as she needed him.
"Safe," she echoed and slid carefully to his side. Then he did touch her. His muzzle lowered and he breathed into the hair at her little nape. It felt good, she smelled good, and he found he wanted more than anything just then to keep her. His chin tugged her a step closer, sweeping his cheek against her neck in a display of affection that surprised even him. It was brief, and his heart hardened again as he straightened. His stare was sharp, but he turned it away from her.
