03-05-2011, 08:50 AM
Blackfoot had not known this wolf on a close personal level, which was regrettable as when she has seen him in his prime he had been trotting through the village with a bounce in each step. It always brought her a smile to see him looking so jolly and well, when passing him past the huts in the dim evening light he would always nod her a friendly greeting and a 'Good evening' and she would reply with a 'A very good evening to you sir' followed by a wide grin. She thought the news wouldn't hit her hard, but now at his funeral seeing him resting in his floating casket; his face relaxed and peaceful his mouth tweaked into a small simper, she couldn't stop a few tears rolling down her muzzle. She remembered the times when she sat by his side whilst he worked -he worked magic with the threads and tapestries- talking over their personal issues, he gave her his advice and along with it a beautiful red neckerchief that he had made during the chats. He taught her to make one herself, it wasn't nearly as beautifully crafted as his was but he said it was a 'Wow, what a good job for a four legged form, it's beautiful through my eyes Blackfoot' That heart warming monologue repeated in her head.
It was an extremely tragic loss. He was the first tribes member to talk to her and settle her nerves only a month or so ago and he meant a lot to her, he didn't really know how much because she never explained. She was going to miss his presence around the village. What did he do to deserve this?
She rose to her feet at her time and stood over the river coffin. She gently lowered her neck down and slipped the shakily made neckerchief as best she could around his neck -it ended up draping over his shoulder and across his chest but it didn't matter- and whispered her words of prayer and superstition into his neglecting ears.
"Wakan tankan nici un." she uttered weakly as her voice broke its soprano mid sentence. She stood back near the others and sighed and let the last tears fall. 'Good luck my friend, we'll meet again' she thought.
It was an extremely tragic loss. He was the first tribes member to talk to her and settle her nerves only a month or so ago and he meant a lot to her, he didn't really know how much because she never explained. She was going to miss his presence around the village. What did he do to deserve this?
She rose to her feet at her time and stood over the river coffin. She gently lowered her neck down and slipped the shakily made neckerchief as best she could around his neck -it ended up draping over his shoulder and across his chest but it didn't matter- and whispered her words of prayer and superstition into his neglecting ears.
"Wakan tankan nici un." she uttered weakly as her voice broke its soprano mid sentence. She stood back near the others and sighed and let the last tears fall. 'Good luck my friend, we'll meet again' she thought.