12-12-2009, 10:30 AM
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Failslow Marit is failslow! Word Count: 400 The threads that made up the half-finished blanket in his lap had tangled hours ago, and he had stopped caring some time after that. Now his fingers worked automatically to untangle them, but his gaze and mind was elsewhere. It didn't matter; he had made loads of new blankets lately. It was never hard to find materials, for anything could be used. It had a function; to take his mind off things, and right now it was failing at it. As soon as progress in the activity halted, his mind took over, and now his thoughts spun and spun around his problem. Maybe it wasn't a real problem, but to him it was. Ember liked him. How silly was that? She was so much younger than him (no older than Asha!); she probably didn't know what she wanted. Maybe she thought she liked him because he took care of them all or something, or because he knew all kinds of things. But that was an arrogant and ignorant thing to think at the same time. Luckily, salvation came in the form of a piercing call, for him specifically. He thrust the blanket away immediately, happy to have something — anything — interrupt him. In moments he was upon Belle's back (she stood rooted by his house these days, as he grew weary from patrolling on foot), heading in the direction of the call. A mixture of snow and rain fell these days, and the ground was slippery and cold and treacherous, but Belle could handle it. Unlike him, she was a certian thing. His ears knew where the howl had come from, and in not long his nose accompanied them in leading the way. It didn't take that long before he reached the area where their borders were, and his eyes spotted a dark figure waiting there. Sharp sounds and a tug at the reins ordered Belle to slow to a walk and head in his direction, and once they were close enough for auditory contact without having to shout, he halted her walk completely and introduced himself. He remained atop the horse, nodding as he spoke his name. "Greetings. I'm Dawali Amara, the Chief of this tribe. How can I help you?" He recognized the scent of Crimson Dreams on him, a pack not far from here. Although he knew about their existence, that was about how much he knew, too. |