10-03-2010, 10:42 PM
OOC: Hiya :3 Don't get too offended ICly from Noss's actions. He's just a concerned older brother with no sense for personal space -w- Or direction. SO....have fun :3 *pushes the large grey wolf to DDM and runs* Also, he arrives at DDM the day that this is posted.
Weeks had passed since Noss had left the Moon Tribe lands to search for his sister. He had not found nor asked for any type of sea-travel to get to where the other pack Shaman had pointed him, but had instead taken the route by land. It was longer than the straight route that the Shaman had given him, but he needed to be as fast as he could without waiting for a ship to port or any type of weather distraction. He had come upon many different places, but none had turned out to be where Ralla was.
The only helpful hints of information he gathered were details of the 'land of harsh snows and many wolves' that the Shaman had told him of. For one thing, it was known as Nova Scotia, and it was inhabited by many wolf packs. But no word of Ralla. Noss could only assume that Nova Scotia was the place she had gone, and he swore that if the Shaman from the other pack was lying, he'd...he'd...I'll make sure that there's no Blue Moon Pack after...
Arriving at Nova Scotia by way of asking countless times for directions, Noss steeled himself for more journeying. His paws were rough, but his strength kept up and his spirits sparked at the feeling that he was getting closer. He knew he still had far to go, so he kept on, going west now along the southern coast. Not even he could lose himself if he followed the coast line.
Or so he thought.
A storm, rampant in winds and lightning, forced Noss to retreat from the shoreline into a dense, almost jungle-like part of the forest where sunshine only occasionaly seeped through in the day and the undergrowth was thick. He was lost more than ever, and no territory lines gave him any inkling as to where he was. His frustration grew when this and the lack of a substantial meal gnawed at him, but still he pressed westward.
I might just go blind from staring at the setting sun every day, he grumbled to himself. But what luck! He reached another coastline just a week later, although he was almost positive that this shore was on the northern side. Still, west, west, west.
A meal had finally come Noss's way--a large red deer--that made his jaws salivate with the promise of a full stomach. He had been keeping his build strong with rations of rabbit and squirrel, but the rodents barely kept him sustained and were often too quick for his large bulk to chase. But this deer was limping, of all the blessings of the moon! He would've been an idiot not to chase it.
What he was an idiot for was overstepping a territory border as he gave chase.
Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.
Weeks had passed since Noss had left the Moon Tribe lands to search for his sister. He had not found nor asked for any type of sea-travel to get to where the other pack Shaman had pointed him, but had instead taken the route by land. It was longer than the straight route that the Shaman had given him, but he needed to be as fast as he could without waiting for a ship to port or any type of weather distraction. He had come upon many different places, but none had turned out to be where Ralla was.
The only helpful hints of information he gathered were details of the 'land of harsh snows and many wolves' that the Shaman had told him of. For one thing, it was known as Nova Scotia, and it was inhabited by many wolf packs. But no word of Ralla. Noss could only assume that Nova Scotia was the place she had gone, and he swore that if the Shaman from the other pack was lying, he'd...he'd...I'll make sure that there's no Blue Moon Pack after...
Arriving at Nova Scotia by way of asking countless times for directions, Noss steeled himself for more journeying. His paws were rough, but his strength kept up and his spirits sparked at the feeling that he was getting closer. He knew he still had far to go, so he kept on, going west now along the southern coast. Not even he could lose himself if he followed the coast line.
Or so he thought.
A storm, rampant in winds and lightning, forced Noss to retreat from the shoreline into a dense, almost jungle-like part of the forest where sunshine only occasionaly seeped through in the day and the undergrowth was thick. He was lost more than ever, and no territory lines gave him any inkling as to where he was. His frustration grew when this and the lack of a substantial meal gnawed at him, but still he pressed westward.
I might just go blind from staring at the setting sun every day, he grumbled to himself. But what luck! He reached another coastline just a week later, although he was almost positive that this shore was on the northern side. Still, west, west, west.
A meal had finally come Noss's way--a large red deer--that made his jaws salivate with the promise of a full stomach. He had been keeping his build strong with rations of rabbit and squirrel, but the rodents barely kept him sustained and were often too quick for his large bulk to chase. But this deer was limping, of all the blessings of the moon! He would've been an idiot not to chase it.
What he was an idiot for was overstepping a territory border as he gave chase.
Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.