01-11-2021, 03:52 PM
He was trying out a new form today. It had taken a few tries to get it right, but eventually he'd found himself satisfied with the image the pool reflected. Maintaining a color change while holding a different skin was an additional challenge, so he hadn't done anything dramatic. Really, he'd only muted his natural born pelt until it more closely resembled that of the creature he wore.
Now a stag, crowned with a widely spread rack of antlers and so dark as to be almost black made its way through the forest, until the trees thinned and opened before him to reveal the meadow on the other side. He'd gotten snagged once, the weight of his new ornaments tangled recklessly with a pine bough. He'd managed to extricate himself without any undue damages to himself or the tree, but a spray of needles still dangled from one tine. He chalked it up to the learning curve that each new shape commanded.
Alert as any native forest dweller, he observed the sprawling meadow before committing to its open spaces. It was relatively quiet tonight. Most folk had wandered home by now, or had bedded down in their own secret places. That suited him just fine. Cool moonlight bathed the area, turned his back silver where it landed. And very subtly, it picked out the scene unfolding so surreally on the edge of the woods.
He felt it more than saw at first. A kind of energy that throbbed beneath his cleft hooves. A sound then, like a tree groaning in the wind, except this was a very still night. Lastly, he saw. Faster than he could believe, the crown of a sapling rose through the night, the trunk thickening and growing until he couldn't rightly call it a sapling any longer. That was a tree, and beneath its newly flourishing crown stood a family little mare.
He stepped with utmost care along the tree line, enjoying the stealth these narrow feet allowed for. Almost as quiet as the pads of a panther, he'd learned. This nose was better though, and he caught the tang of her mossy scent surprisingly quickly. It made him quicken his pace, the springy cervine legs moving like pistons when he got faster than a sedate walk.
Moments later, and he could see her clearly now, dozing beneath her newly grown tree. Contentment etched her face, and he second guessed this meeting. Sleep seemed to be coming quickly for her, and he was not at all tired.
The stag-that-wasn't turned to go. Another day, he would come by. That was the plan, but nature had other plans. His antlers caught again, twisted into the gnarled branch of an elm and rattled when he tried to jerk free. Huffing indignantly, he tried again. Antlers, he was beginning to think, were highly overrated.
@[catnip]
Now a stag, crowned with a widely spread rack of antlers and so dark as to be almost black made its way through the forest, until the trees thinned and opened before him to reveal the meadow on the other side. He'd gotten snagged once, the weight of his new ornaments tangled recklessly with a pine bough. He'd managed to extricate himself without any undue damages to himself or the tree, but a spray of needles still dangled from one tine. He chalked it up to the learning curve that each new shape commanded.
Alert as any native forest dweller, he observed the sprawling meadow before committing to its open spaces. It was relatively quiet tonight. Most folk had wandered home by now, or had bedded down in their own secret places. That suited him just fine. Cool moonlight bathed the area, turned his back silver where it landed. And very subtly, it picked out the scene unfolding so surreally on the edge of the woods.
He felt it more than saw at first. A kind of energy that throbbed beneath his cleft hooves. A sound then, like a tree groaning in the wind, except this was a very still night. Lastly, he saw. Faster than he could believe, the crown of a sapling rose through the night, the trunk thickening and growing until he couldn't rightly call it a sapling any longer. That was a tree, and beneath its newly flourishing crown stood a family little mare.
He stepped with utmost care along the tree line, enjoying the stealth these narrow feet allowed for. Almost as quiet as the pads of a panther, he'd learned. This nose was better though, and he caught the tang of her mossy scent surprisingly quickly. It made him quicken his pace, the springy cervine legs moving like pistons when he got faster than a sedate walk.
Moments later, and he could see her clearly now, dozing beneath her newly grown tree. Contentment etched her face, and he second guessed this meeting. Sleep seemed to be coming quickly for her, and he was not at all tired.
The stag-that-wasn't turned to go. Another day, he would come by. That was the plan, but nature had other plans. His antlers caught again, twisted into the gnarled branch of an elm and rattled when he tried to jerk free. Huffing indignantly, he tried again. Antlers, he was beginning to think, were highly overrated.
@[catnip]