| Logs |
2008 September 22
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Prelude, First Theme
Dawn creeps up over the land, still well behind the Worldfang Mountains but casting a faint amber luminescence upon the land. The mountains have not yet been crowned with golden light, marking mid-morning, when Mikal finishes the morning chores of the small hut that she and her father share at the edge of Stanton. The sound of Cornelius tending his field nearby, the only neighbor close to Mikal's home, mingles with the distant bustle of the village proper. Above them all is the ringing of the blacksmith's hammer, the grumble of the millstone, the lowing of cows. All these sounds are there for one to hear them.
There is a sudden distant keen, like that of a hawk but more warbling, more threatening, and high in the sky. All sounds seem to stop for a brief moment, a tension singing in the air at the sound of the ravon's cry. When it does not come again, the tension fades, and the sounds of the town's activity returns to normal.
In all it seems to be a typical day in the making. Mikal's father is out in the woods, tending his trap-lines for the few small animals that haven't been scared off by the monsters. Farmers tend their orchards or fields. The blacksmith and his apprentice are working in the smithy. As the sun peeks over the Worldfangs, casting light at last onto the village, the shire-reeve has already made his morning rounds of the village, before turning to tending the small field he works with his brother. Aside from the lingering tension of the ravon's cry from earlier -- it will take some hours for people to shuffle off that nervousness -- the ood is easy and gentle and without great concern other than getting the daily work done.
Mikal finishes her chores, glancing around automatically -- it's a habit she learned from her father in the woods, to always know what was behind one. She wonders if the ravon has flown on, or is hiding somewhere, hunting -- but she doesn't pause in her silent, trackless passage through the hut. A few moments later she emerges, her backpack in place. She sheds her timid movements as she steps into the shadow of the woods, with a small sighing smile. She straightens a bit, her movement through the shadowy thickets almost like a drifting bit of late-morning fog -- she's back in her natural element.
Entering the forest leaves many of the sounds behind her. The hut is close by the old trade road which hasn't seen use by a wagon in just about a year, though she doesn't travel near it; most of the animals (and monsters) avoid the road, as it lacks any sort of cover.
Now and then in her hike she sees a small little creature scampering through the underbrush; not asdrin, fortunately, but normal bush-mice. Gregoria mentioned the other day to her father that she'd thought she'd seen a kitss in the trees nearby the trapper's house, ghosting through the afternoon light that streamed through the forest canopy as it leapt from branch to branch. But so far Mikal has seen no sign of it.
Mikal keeps a wary eye out anyway, of course. It's never wise to assume safety in the woods, so her senses are reaching out for the 'feel' of another mind that tells her someone or thing is near. She smiles faintly, with no humor, as she remembers her father's confusion when she tried to describe the sensation, as a child -- she'd assumed everyone could do it. Since then, of course, she'd learned otherwise, as well as to not talk about it. On a lovely day like today, though, it's hard to feel worried about being exposed and discovered by the villagers for the strange creature she suspects she may be... especially out here in the quiet, peaceful (to her) forest. Its tangled thickets and impenetrable underbrush are like home to her.
Travelling deeper into the Southern Forest, the sounds and traces of animals -- and monsters -- become a little more visible. She spots kitss spoor, as well as a path that looks like largoss run that's a few days old -- fortunately it seems to be heading generally away from the village. Every so often in the distance she thinks she can here the chorus of squeeking which would almost be cute if she didn't know it belonged to an asdrin swarm.
It's while shes standing from examining a fairly recent pile of kitss droppings -- tracking them by the ground is useless, since they invariably prefer the trees -- that the bushes off to the side rustle and she hears the faint grunt of some kind of animal or monster.
Mikal steps to the shelter of a tree, already sliding the bow from her pack. She strings it silently, keeping a wary eye about her, then nocks an arrow. After that she picks out the slightest bit of trail through the thick underbrush -- then with slow stealth she slinks closer, using every bit of cover to hide herself.
THe bush rustles a bit more, and now she has a clearer -- though still obscured -- view of what it conceals. A sleek pelt of dark brown, run though with black striping, allows the beast to blend in with the brown forest floor and shadows. There is another grunt, and a shuffling around, the sound of fur brushing against leaves and sticks. As Mikal draws closer she sees the telltales of one of her traps that she had set the day before.
Shateishael raises an eyebrow -- it stole from her trap?! -then frowns. That was going to be dinner! Enough of this. There's going to be one less monster soon! She glides forward a few more steps, bow at the ready.
There is almost an explosion of rustling in the brush now, a scrambling of limbs, and suddenly, rather unexpectedly, a sleek, furred and broad face pops up out of the top of the brush, and gives a faintly mournful yowl, before crashing back into the brush. To Mikal's eye, it was most definitely not an asdrin or lagross or kitss, and ravons are dark-blue-feathered. It could be a khidra....
Mikal sets her back to a tree, the nocked arrow steady as she waits. A khidra will come swiftly bursting out of the underbrush, and she needs to be ready for it. She waits patiently, her senses reaching out for its most likely attack path.
After several moments, the beast seems to be settling down some, or at least there's less rustling. It lets out another soft yowl. Somehow, it doesn't seem to Mikal that this beast is any threat, nor will it be any threat.
Mikal is confused; this doesn't sound like any khidra she's hunted before, and she has brought down a very small handful in her lifetime, both with her father and on her own. She hesitates... then cautiously takes a few more steps, to try and peer into the small clearing where she set her trap the day before.
The creature that is sprawled on the ground is not a khidra, but a variety of raptor-wolf. Somewhat thickly built, usually living more up on the slopes of the Worldfang Mountain, this one looks like it's been starving from the loss of whatever prey the monsters ate it out of on the mountains, and it came down into the forest to look for food. rather husky, the forepaws are somewhat dexrous, as Mikal can see that it's been trying to worry out of the trap's cords that have tangled in it's legs and it's thick, heavy tail.
A moment after she takes in that it's not a monster, just a normal, albeit viciously-reputationed, predator, it turns to look at her... and at eye contact it strikes Mikal almost as hard as a blow from the blacksmith's hammer. The sudden connection, undeniable and present, almost sends her reeling with the force of it, as if it had always been there but now, somehow, was cemented with such great force.
Mikal staggers back a step, almost tripping over a root -- then catches herself and stares, awed, at the creature. Uncertainly she stutters, "H-hello? -uh..." She hastily yanks her scattered wits together, reaching out with her mind for the usual 'feel' that helps her easily tell the motive of another.
The raptor-wolf has stopped it's struggling, watching Mikal -- but it is no longer struggling, and it it no longer afraid or skittish as it was before. In fact a sort of preternatural calm seems to take hold of it, and it relaxes visibly as it watches her. It even pants a little, it's broad tongue lolling from it's mouth a bit. Whatever the effect it had on Mikal, it seems to have calmed the raptor-wolf.
Mikal blinks, astonished again. She studies the big creature -- it's easily as heavy as she -- and wonders for a bit... then says quietly, "H-hello there... Raphael. How do I know your name?" She steps forward fearlessly, even as she's not sure why, and crouches next to it. She talks to the creatu- Raphael, right -- she talks to Raphael as she carefully untangles the ropes from around its dextrous, heavily clawed forepaws, "Looks like you got rather tangled up here." With more quiet wonder she runs the palm of one hand along the rough-furred coat, adding, "Your ribs are showing. Did you lose your territory to a bigger male or something?"
Mikal continues untangling the ropes, lifting first one heavily muscled and powerful hind leg, then the heavy, counter-balancing tail. "Good fur colors, at least, for down here. There, that's the last rope there." She lifts off the few loops he's got tight around the thick furred mane about his short, heavy neck, then stares silently into the slitted golden, alien-yet-so-weirdly-familiar eyes, above the broad nosepad and the mouthful of jagged teeth.
The raptor-wolf -- no, Raphael -- rrfs a little as he waits patiently for Mikal to untangle him. Perhaps she half-expects him to scamper off once free, but instead he -- when did she start thinking of the raptor-wolf as 'he?' -- ruffs a littile, shaking out it's fur as it sits on it's haunches, calmly grooming it's mussed tail with its clawed forepaws. At her question he looks up at her, and Mikal gets the distinct impression that he's answering her in the affirmative, and that something that looks like a white-pelted khidora was what drove Raphael down from the mountain.
Mikal nods from where she's sitting next to Raphael, without really registering she's talking to what's supposed to be a dumb animal, and starts working on combing out the tangled mane with her fingers -- not because she heard a query, but because it 'felt' like it needed doing. "Oh, yeah, aren't they annoying? Takes several arrows to take them down usually. I was worried I was going to have to climb a tree really fast before, when I thought you were one." She finishes what she's doing, then looks around, shifting without realizing it into mental thought: [here, I've eaten -- you can have the critter I trapped.]
Mikal rises, swiftly coiling the rope that Raphael tangled up, grinning as she glances back at him, [Here, silly -- here's how to undo one of these traps. See how the chevron got hoisted up into the air by the counterweight, and its neck snapped so it doesn't suffer? So: just untie the rope around the counterweight, and it will fall to you!] She does so as she speaks, then lowers the dead chevron to where Raphael can reach it. [Better?]
Raphael seems to grin, a little apologetically, licking it's chops, as if acknowledging that yes, he was indeed trying to go after the chevron. She gets the distinct impression that Raphael picked up how to untie the the counterweight, and with his forepaws could untie it. He stats to snuffle and sniff at the carcass, and has opened his jaws to start eating, when he pauses and looks at Mikal to make sure that it's okay?
Mikal settles down next to the hungrily gorging raptor wolf, stroking one hand along his heavy-muscled neck, [Poor guy... you really were starving, weren't you? Don't worry... I'll take care of you, promise.] She pauses, suddenly startled at what she just said even though she knows it's true -- how is she going to do this? She can't take Raphael into the village! But... he feels like part of her, like a brother. She can't just abandon him. She frowns a bit worriedly, considering what to do -- this is another mouth to feed, and a big one at that! Absently she pulls her short, razor-sharp hunting knife to cut a piece of meat for herself as well -- then blinks and laughs softly as Raphael tears a meaty chunk free and drops it next to her.
Raphael takes it as approval, and starts to eat. it isn't neat, or pretty, but then again, compared to how lagross or asdrin 'feed,' it's almost refreshing to see a normal creature eating. She can sense he understands her concern, and doesn't want to cause trouble for her. Even so, she lives near the forest, doesn't she? And there's still enough prey deeper in the woods for him to go after. he thinks, with a little help, he could even possibly take out a kitss. Though wether they make good eating is another question entirely. He doesn't like the smell of them.
Mikal nods ruefully, "They are a bit musty smelling. Maybe we could try cooking one? Do you like cooked meat?" She's gathered a bit of kindling and brings out flint and steel to start a small, quick fire for her meat. As the lighter sparks she adds, [You can try some of this cooked too. I'm going to guess you can eat it?] She blows gently on the kindling to get it to light, calling mentally on the little sparks to burn bright and strong and steady for her, even though they're small.
Raphael wuffs! and seems to like the idea of cooked meat, but he dosn't seem to like the idea of cooked kitss. He thinks there's something... unpleasant... about eating the monsters. He pauses in his gorging as Mikal sets up the cookign fire, dragging the carcass beside it as she sets up, then curling up beside her and watching intently.
Mikal guts the chevron with quick, neat strokes of her knife, asking Raphael to either eat what she's pulled, or scatter it so the scent doesn't call other predators. While he does that she uses a few of the ropes to carefully hang the split open carcass so it will cook most evenly. She glances around, gathering a few herbs and crumbling up some of the seeds for seasoning -- those are rubbed into the meat -- and with his help she drags over a few more pieces of wood for the fire. A little encouragement to the fire, and it's soon smoldering evenly, the heat rising nicely along the length of the chevron. Mikal curls up next to Raphael, staring into the fire and absently stroking his heavy, furred shoulders as they wait patiently for the meat to cook. Her mental voice is musing, [Father used to do this with me all the time when I was too small to hunt for myself. We'd spend the night by the fire and he'd tell me stories... but he wouldn't ever tell me about Mother.] She looks into Raphael's calm, wide-spa
Mikal looks into Raphael's calm, wide-spaced eyes, adding a little wistfully, [I never knew her... I just remember warmth and humming or purring or something. I always wondered if she came from the forest originally, and walked back into it after I was weaned... but the villagers always say the only things that come from the forest are monsters and trade wagons, and none of them knew Mother. So she couldn't have been from a caravan, right?]
Raphael doesn't have an answer for that; but there's an odd sort of familiarity that Raphael seems to have for her, something comfortable and approaching as close to kinship as Mikal has ever felt from anyone before, besides her father.
Mikal sighs, then puts an arm about Rapahel's powerful neck, resting her head against him. Softly she whispers, "If... if Mother was a monster, then I'm a half monster, right? A-and you're a whole monster... but you feel so right! Like I know you... like -- like f-family..." She gulps a little, trying not to cry -- she's always felt different from the villagers, but hadn't ever expected to have it proven so startlingly conclusively! She turns her face into Raphael's mane, breathing the warm, musky scent of him and trying to comfort herself: even if she is a half-monster, at least she's found her family. Her mother must have come from the Worldfang Mountains... and now her half-brother has found her. She hugs him tightly, murmuring quietly, [Family... for you it's pack, right? Don't worry -- I'll do my best to be a good pack sister, Raff.]
Raphael gives a soft, comforting mrrr, almost a woof and a howl, and snuggles into the hug, his heavy tail wrapping a bit around her. She is, to him, pack sister, companion, and friend, of that she knows without a doubt.
Mikal smiles at that, sitting back against him with one arm still about him. She wipes her eyes with the other hand, murmuring a soft, [Thank you, big brother.] She feels oddly comforted after that -- if nothing else, she knows the truth now about herself, and it helps to have the uncertainty gone. The two of them sit companionably together, waiting for the chevron to finish cooking and occasionally humming and sort of yodel-woofing together in quiet shared song.