Snowstorm Thread - Round up the Pack

Orin Takekuro · 02-10-2011, 04:50 PM

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WC 1012

She heard the pressing cries of her leader from within the safe confines of her bookstore, but Orin was unable to answer. She was doing much better now that she had told Shawchert about her pregnancy and the future father stepped up to the responsibility, helping Orin get the proper care and nutrition. The girl had almost accidentally starved herself on winter rations before she knew she was pregnant, and there was a short while there that the unborn pups' lives were in jeopardy because of their mother's state. She had improved greatly, her body responding wonderfully to the good care it now received, and what was once an under developed belly had quickly become an awkward, beautiful little bump in the girl's slender figure. She was halfway through her pregnancy now, but her belly looked like it was a couple weeks ahead, perhaps making up for the time it took to begin to grow initially.

But at times the pregnancy was still very hard on the petite Takekuro woman. She was receiving great care now, and had only actually recently moved out of Shawchert's house and back into her bookstore, with strict orders to be seen daily to make sure that nothing went awry, but they were finally in the “safe zone” now and Orin was free of the fear of a random miscarriage due to health. With Shawchert's help they constructed a bed that was much more fit for an expecting woman, and it was a marked improvement from the old nylon army cot she had been sleeping on. Her back no longer ached, even if it was hard to get to sleep some nights around her rapidly expanding belly.

Last night had been one of the sleepless ones. It was as though Orin's very legs were rebelling against her body and refused to sleep, even though the rest of her craved the caring touch of slumber. She spent the night twisting and rolling in her plush bed of skins, wiggling her legs and trying to get them to stop. They refused, so she relented to their demands and got up, leaving her bedroom for the treasures of the bookstore below. She grabbed one of her old favorites, a novel by the human author Mark Twain, and settled in at her desk. Little did she know, her legs were suddenly happy to let her sleep.

Shawchert's howling woke her up hours later. Her eyes darted to the window and she could see thick sheets of snow falling, but could not see her alpha's form moving through the streets beyond the floating blanket of snow. He called so many times. There was an emergency! What was going on? Was it this snow? Or was someone hurt?

Orin leaped to her feet but was hit with a wave of dizziness. She forgot she could not leap around like she was accustomed to doing. She dropped back into the chair for a moment to let it pass, then got up slowly again. Shawchert's frantic cries were dying out now, but she knew where he had gone.

Normally, being the Tundra wolf that she was, she could have run right outside and to him. But not now, not in her state, not with a blizzard raging outside. She could not risk going out into sub zero temperatures when there were who-knows how many little lives counting on her to be responsible and safe. She needed to cover up before she could go out.

Clothing was important now, too, for she did not normally keep clothes other than her cloak and shawl. So Orin hurried back upstairs – as much as she could “hurry” - and dressed herself in the black top and skirt she had found the day she visited the costume shop in the Court with Mars. The outfit so suited her taste for fantasy but was quickly becoming too small for her belly. Wearing clothes was a strange thing for her, and she shifted awkwardly in them until her fur had settled under the fabric and no bits were pulling or pinching anymore. Once she was somewhat comfortable, she draped her cloak over her shoulders and clasped it shut. Then she moved to her bedroom door... and heard a great, muffled crashing sound.

“What?” She muttered audibly, then scuttled out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She peered at the front window of the store, which was completely white now. Moving to the front of the store, the unlatched the door, but it was barely open when a torrent of snow came tumbling in. “Ahh!” She screamed and shoved her weight against the door, forcing it closed. She spun around and headed for the back, slipping through the old stock room. She grasped the chilled handle and turned, but this door opened outward, and it would not budge. Snow had slipped from the slanted rooftop of her bookstore and was blocking both exits. In a moment of panic, she ran through the bookstore and back up to her bedroom. Despite the chill winds, she threw open her shutters and leaned out the window, snow collecting in her dreadlocks.

“Shawchert!” She called at the top of her lungs, but she could barely even hear her own voice over the winds. “Shawchert! Can you hear me? Can anybody hear me?” She waited for a response, and when none came she let a long howl ring. It was probably her last chance to be heard. Maybe one of her neighbors could hear? “Mars! Bartholomew! Bangle?”

She wanted Shawchert to know she was okay, and normally being stuck in her bookstore would not have been such a bad thing. They could dig her out later when the snow was over. Only... she had been going out every day for her food, and had no resources stockpiled in her stores at the moment. She flinched when she heart the sound of breaking glass downstairs: something broke one of the windows. Now the unforgiving cold was filtering into her bookstore.

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