The Wayfarer

Ralla · 09-02-2010, 09:56 PM

[html]

Hello again~ Despite what it's written like, this is actually a 'please respond' topic~ I hope you all enjoy :3

Ralla had been in the tribe for a few days now, but was still trying to figure out the specifics of her purpose there. More than anything, the Great Fire mesmerized her; the dancing colors and heat reminded her of nights in her old tribe dancing the ancient dances and reciting the ancient chants. The flames licking the air higher and higher appeared to Ralla as dancing wolves--in all forms--and brought back a nostalgia that was too soon to have.

The winter months were fast approaching, and the turning leaves of autumn dotted the trees surrounding the village that Ralla had barely left. But for the few days that she had been within the tribe, she had only met one other wolf. Are they mostly hunters? Do they keep out of the village most of the time? The last had an obvious answer, but the mind wonders what the mind wonders.

Instead, Ralla began to fill her time with collecting berries and nuts that had fallen from the trees. She wanted to try and hunt, but she did not yet feel fully comfortable hunting in the AniWayan territory. With her limited contact with her supposed pack-mates, coming upon one of them during a hunt would only make Ralla feel awkward. The berries and nuts were at full ripeness, and when she crested a hill just outside of the village--her first far venture more than a mile--Ralla was overjoyed to find an entire patch of blueberries reaching the end of their peak. If I pick them now, our tribe can surely use them... Let's see... Blueberries, blueberries, blueberries... Used for...for... Ralla's knowledge, so overfilled with the lunar and star charts, came up with a blank when she tried to define the properties of blueberries. Ah well, I know they're good! In her optime form, Ralla had with her a woven basket that she had borrowed from a huge pile of them--I'll return it later...--in the village and began to pick the fruit from the bushes.

Basket full, the white wolfess carried her bounty back to village with her long limbs to carry her and a smile plastered to her thin muzzle. But when she arrived in the colorful village, the Great Fire caught her attention again. She couldn't understand why she felt so drawn to it other than the memories it invoked, but even in the light of day it burned bright as a stream of smoke rose like a black snake into the sky. Through the rising embers and shimmering heat, the background scenery blurred and made Ralla's eyes water with the concentration to keep the forest-green irises transfixed on the flame.

But still, she drew closer.

It smells of so many things our fires never did, she mused. The fires in the Moon Tribe smelled of ash and heat and charred wood. The Great Fire smells of... plants... wood... sun... animal... stone... and what? A peculiar scent wafted through Ralla's senses, and the burn on her forehead ached when she recognized it. The scent was not a tangible scent, but one of memory; a returner of ancestry that reminded her of her past tribe's tradition and history. It made her heart ache.

And pound.

Placing the blueberries down, Ralla drew closer still to the Great Fire and stood in front of the flames, squinting to keep the smoke from burning her eyes more. As it was daytime, Ralla could not receive visions from the moon; only signs that she would have to be quick to catch. But the fire...it was beckoning her. Reaching forward with an outstretched hand, Ralla was so tempted to feel the burn of the fire; just to see if it really did burn a wolf like one and was not a work of pure magic. Of course, maybe it is.

Before she could, an owl--screeching, tan, spotted, and white-bellied--came swooping down to barely skim the air above Ralla's head before catching the thermal created by the Great Fire. The spontaneous occurance--and highly unusual one--snapped Ralla from her revelry and made her startle up to watch the owl fly away to the southeast. Although owls--this one being a barn owl--were nocturnal, common sense would've dictated to anyone that this one was startled from its rest by perhaps a predator or passerby unaware of its location. To Ralla, she saw more.

The Owl, she thought, in the day... The traveller who makes his own path, regardless of restriction... Southeast... East for air and new beginnings, south for fire and passion. The one who leads the lost out of darkness; the Wayfarer. The sign was a highly auspicious one within her tribe, and the meaning was clear.

So engrossed in her own thoughts, she was only dully aware that her hand had--despite the owl's interruption--been burned at the fingertips.

Moon walks. "Moon talks". Moon thinks.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?