10-19-2019, 03:35 PM
He'd roamed the forest most of the summer, only now thinking of more permanent shelter as russet leaves began to carpet the earth. To become civil once more instead of the wildling he'd allowed himself to be.
As hidden as his pale opalescence allowed him to be, the dragon stalked through brittle trees in search of food. Grasses that could certainly fill his hunger still existed, but in the early autumn chill, a taste for blood seemed more appropriate. This was what brought him to the edge of the forest, where desperation and fear hung heavy on the air.
An injured deer was his first thought, something nearing the end of its life anyway. A creature too weak to survive the winter. It would be a mercy killing, one that would result in a full belly and an easy mind. The scent, once caught, was simple enough to track. It lead him to a massive tree, still thick with evergreen leaves. The scent hung thick here.
Like a cat waiting at some small creature's burrow, he dropped to his belly in wait of his prey. The shrubbery still held on to most of its leaves so early in the season, allowing him cover. Every sense was focussed on the tree that he was certain his quarry hid by. A stumbling rustle put him on edge, every muscle tight in preparation. This anticipation was the lithe drake's most enjoyed aspect of the hunt. The moment right before the charge.
The moment never birthed its rightful outcome. A figure emerged from hiding, as the white- blue beast exploded from good cover, only to come to a tripping halt as he understood what he was seeing. No half dead deer stood before him, though the he'd not been so far off. Instead it was a little mare, skin and bone and radiating fear who shrilled at the air before he was even within sight.
She was as sorry a creature as he'd ever seen. Every ragged inch of her spoke of a long hunting, of nervous energy and not enough rest. Her eyes... As he approached, scales rustling through crisp leaves, he could see a haunted gleam. It was a look his mother got some times, when the nightmares harried her worse than usual. The look of someone not quite here and not quite gone.
Mid stride he shifted, until he looked more horse than beast, albeit scaled and ridged. His eyes maintained their hot glow as his hunger faded with concern. "Who are you shouting at?" His voice rumbled, but kept low. The fragile girl seemed one good scare away from keeling over. He'd hate to be one to do it.
@[Eyes]
As hidden as his pale opalescence allowed him to be, the dragon stalked through brittle trees in search of food. Grasses that could certainly fill his hunger still existed, but in the early autumn chill, a taste for blood seemed more appropriate. This was what brought him to the edge of the forest, where desperation and fear hung heavy on the air.
An injured deer was his first thought, something nearing the end of its life anyway. A creature too weak to survive the winter. It would be a mercy killing, one that would result in a full belly and an easy mind. The scent, once caught, was simple enough to track. It lead him to a massive tree, still thick with evergreen leaves. The scent hung thick here.
Like a cat waiting at some small creature's burrow, he dropped to his belly in wait of his prey. The shrubbery still held on to most of its leaves so early in the season, allowing him cover. Every sense was focussed on the tree that he was certain his quarry hid by. A stumbling rustle put him on edge, every muscle tight in preparation. This anticipation was the lithe drake's most enjoyed aspect of the hunt. The moment right before the charge.
The moment never birthed its rightful outcome. A figure emerged from hiding, as the white- blue beast exploded from good cover, only to come to a tripping halt as he understood what he was seeing. No half dead deer stood before him, though the he'd not been so far off. Instead it was a little mare, skin and bone and radiating fear who shrilled at the air before he was even within sight.
She was as sorry a creature as he'd ever seen. Every ragged inch of her spoke of a long hunting, of nervous energy and not enough rest. Her eyes... As he approached, scales rustling through crisp leaves, he could see a haunted gleam. It was a look his mother got some times, when the nightmares harried her worse than usual. The look of someone not quite here and not quite gone.
Mid stride he shifted, until he looked more horse than beast, albeit scaled and ridged. His eyes maintained their hot glow as his hunger faded with concern. "Who are you shouting at?" His voice rumbled, but kept low. The fragile girl seemed one good scare away from keeling over. He'd hate to be one to do it.
@[Eyes]