01-05-2021, 10:04 PM
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He catches a glimpse of the white, furry, other canine before he is turning to draw the Intolerable-Stink-squirrel away. Barrow tries to be the chivalrous knight and sacrifice himself, but Mazikeen somehow thinks it is all just a big joke. His poor tail would beg to differ! The sound of her laughter warms him though, and he thinks he would suffer a thousand noxious fumigations just to hear it again.
He bounds off, but he realizes he doesn’t know where he is going. Or where he should go. Where might one go to escape a vicious, predatory, noseless (the skunk must be, he thinks, else it would knock itself out on its own stench) beast hell-bent on destruction? “To the lake!” Mazikeen yells like she has done this before and knows how to remedy this exact situation. It makes Barrow wonder why anyone would willingly choose to keep coming back to Hyaline or think it is a suitable place to lay one’s head at night. Ah, nothing like the fresh scent of rot and decay. Pairs nicely with flowering wisteria, he supposes.
He glances back over his shoulder and sees that Maze has shifted into an osprey. His eyes follow her spiraling movement before she levels off. They move through the forest, dog tracking bird, on a quest to heal the gallant knight of his mortal wounds. Barrow wags his tail unconsciously, no matter what obstacle lies in the path ahead of him. This body is more fluid than his equine form, he finds, more supple. Every log strewn across the way is leapt over effortlessly. Every thorny-bushed blockade eventually clears as he finds a way through nimbly. And always, his tail wags behind him.
Eventually, the trees clear and the land slopes down to the lake below. It sparkles invitingly despite winter’s slow chill creeping up on them. Plus, Barrow is quite immune to the cold. He cranes his neck up at Mazikeen cutting through the air above him, a mischievous glimmer in his gaze. “Last one in is as rotten as a skunk!” And he bounds forward without thought into the once-still water, splashing and churning the crystalline surface with his big paws. He wonders what she’ll have in her arsenal of shapes to contend with the water. He wonders, too, if the smell will wash off or if he’ll stink forevermore.
He bounds off, but he realizes he doesn’t know where he is going. Or where he should go. Where might one go to escape a vicious, predatory, noseless (the skunk must be, he thinks, else it would knock itself out on its own stench) beast hell-bent on destruction? “To the lake!” Mazikeen yells like she has done this before and knows how to remedy this exact situation. It makes Barrow wonder why anyone would willingly choose to keep coming back to Hyaline or think it is a suitable place to lay one’s head at night. Ah, nothing like the fresh scent of rot and decay. Pairs nicely with flowering wisteria, he supposes.
He glances back over his shoulder and sees that Maze has shifted into an osprey. His eyes follow her spiraling movement before she levels off. They move through the forest, dog tracking bird, on a quest to heal the gallant knight of his mortal wounds. Barrow wags his tail unconsciously, no matter what obstacle lies in the path ahead of him. This body is more fluid than his equine form, he finds, more supple. Every log strewn across the way is leapt over effortlessly. Every thorny-bushed blockade eventually clears as he finds a way through nimbly. And always, his tail wags behind him.
Eventually, the trees clear and the land slopes down to the lake below. It sparkles invitingly despite winter’s slow chill creeping up on them. Plus, Barrow is quite immune to the cold. He cranes his neck up at Mazikeen cutting through the air above him, a mischievous glimmer in his gaze. “Last one in is as rotten as a skunk!” And he bounds forward without thought into the once-still water, splashing and churning the crystalline surface with his big paws. He wonders what she’ll have in her arsenal of shapes to contend with the water. He wonders, too, if the smell will wash off or if he’ll stink forevermore.
Barrow
@[Mazikeen]