Post by kitkatt on May 12, 2010 12:01:32 GMT -5
Just. Keep. Going.
The landscape in front of him was bleak and hopeless, and Nahuel knew it. He was limping lightly on one foot, and he turned and looked at the damage to see if it had got any better. The deep gash on his paw, delivered by a sharp piece of flint scattered carelessly by Nature, was still oozing blood sluggishly, but the wound had started to begin the natural healing process. It better speed up, or he was dead meat. There was no sign of any water on this desolate plain, and the clear liquid, like the sticky blood currently staining his pad red, was necessary for him to survive.
He looked up at the clouds, which were spilling out over the sky, clouding the stars from view, and hoped for rain to fall, like a gift from the stars themselves, and fall soon. At last he sat down heavily, his sigh spewing out of his mouth in the form of water vapour that curled around his muzzle, before fading into the air before him. He might as well sleep.
Strange he had found no wolves here. If he was lucky, no pack inhabited this land, even though the rabbits fleeing across the tussocky grass would probably tell otherwise. If there was prey, he could think of no other reason why there shouldn't be any wolves here. Shuddering at the thought of unwelcoming fangs baring before ripping into his parched body, he curled up and rested his head on his front paws.
This place unnerved him. Something about the atmosphere, the darkening landscape devoid of any wolves, told of fear and discontent. He was just about to drift off into an uneasy slumber, when a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye whispered in his ear of another prescence.
He was instantly alert, ears pricked and lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp, pointed teeth. Whatever was there, he could fight. And win. He turned, to see a silouette of a wolf standing against the moonlight sky, perched on a grassy hillock.
The wolf regarded him with baleful eyes, then disappeared from view down the other side of the hill. Nahuel scrambled after him, wondering what on earth his silent opponent was doing. Going to alert the pack? He must stop him. The wolf hobbled after the mysterious wolf, and stopped short at the dead of the hill, eyes filled with joy, and a slight puzzlement.
The wolf had gone. But it had left something behind it.
A glistening pool of water lay beyond the hillock, starlight reflecting from its glassy surface. Nahuel ran down to the edge, and lapped the water. It tasted wonderful. He sat down and drank his fill, then whipped round at a hissed challenge from behind him.
'Who are you?'
The landscape in front of him was bleak and hopeless, and Nahuel knew it. He was limping lightly on one foot, and he turned and looked at the damage to see if it had got any better. The deep gash on his paw, delivered by a sharp piece of flint scattered carelessly by Nature, was still oozing blood sluggishly, but the wound had started to begin the natural healing process. It better speed up, or he was dead meat. There was no sign of any water on this desolate plain, and the clear liquid, like the sticky blood currently staining his pad red, was necessary for him to survive.
He looked up at the clouds, which were spilling out over the sky, clouding the stars from view, and hoped for rain to fall, like a gift from the stars themselves, and fall soon. At last he sat down heavily, his sigh spewing out of his mouth in the form of water vapour that curled around his muzzle, before fading into the air before him. He might as well sleep.
Strange he had found no wolves here. If he was lucky, no pack inhabited this land, even though the rabbits fleeing across the tussocky grass would probably tell otherwise. If there was prey, he could think of no other reason why there shouldn't be any wolves here. Shuddering at the thought of unwelcoming fangs baring before ripping into his parched body, he curled up and rested his head on his front paws.
This place unnerved him. Something about the atmosphere, the darkening landscape devoid of any wolves, told of fear and discontent. He was just about to drift off into an uneasy slumber, when a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye whispered in his ear of another prescence.
He was instantly alert, ears pricked and lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp, pointed teeth. Whatever was there, he could fight. And win. He turned, to see a silouette of a wolf standing against the moonlight sky, perched on a grassy hillock.
The wolf regarded him with baleful eyes, then disappeared from view down the other side of the hill. Nahuel scrambled after him, wondering what on earth his silent opponent was doing. Going to alert the pack? He must stop him. The wolf hobbled after the mysterious wolf, and stopped short at the dead of the hill, eyes filled with joy, and a slight puzzlement.
The wolf had gone. But it had left something behind it.
A glistening pool of water lay beyond the hillock, starlight reflecting from its glassy surface. Nahuel ran down to the edge, and lapped the water. It tasted wonderful. He sat down and drank his fill, then whipped round at a hissed challenge from behind him.
'Who are you?'