drinking from our skins

Vesper · 04-16-2012, 04:17 PM

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I know this isn't exactly like we discussed, but hopefully this scenario is fine too.

“Be my eyes, birdbrain,” Vesper murmured as she flung her arm upward, launching the raven. He croaked as he took flight, leaving a dark feather behind; it caught in her cropped mane as a token. She didn’t bother to flick it away, instead swiveling her one ear as she surveyed the woods. Everything seemed quiet, but she had no misconceptions about the danger of this mission. The wolves could be anywhere.

But being cooped up in Inferni territory wasn’t doing the prey population any good. So far, the abundance of baby animals in the spring weather balanced with the added mouths, but there were always those who preferred to hunt outside the territory. She especially wanted to make sure her scouts were fed, feeling almost like a patriarch of a family rather than merely the head of the Lumen tier. The bird knew that she’d been working herself to the bone with the additional patrols.

All she asked for was a deer, one deer that she could share. Her ear constantly twitched as she stepped quietly through the woods, a feral hunch obvious in her optime shape. This was her largest form, and she hoped that would make up for its awkwardness. She needed to be strong on two legs as well as four if she was going to inspire any kind of respect in the clan. Her weaknesses were too obvious.

Stark flew overhead, his claws running through the tuft of fur on her head, and she bared her teeth at him. “You could make noise,” she complained, “rather than touching me. I’m already jumpy enough.” She glanced around at the trees again; any could shelter a foe.

“Doe hurting, limping north,” the bird reported, ignoring her frustration. “Boy being quick, boy catching.” He landed on a branch, bobbing his head and quorking for a moment before adding with a ruffle of feathers, “Stark eating, too. Equal payment.”

“Go eat a fetid fish or something,” Vesper growled, but it was under her breath and in agreement. Both canine and corvine were learning how to get along with each other, and Stark had earned more than his share of an easy meal from dealing with her. She waited for him to take off in the direction of the sighted prey and followed at a steady lope.

It wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought it would be tackling the already injured animal and killing it. As her claws slashed through its shoulder, her jaws at its throat, she tumbled down a small hill and landed with the dead doe underneath her. Brushing twigs and grass from her pale tawny fur, she stood and panted softly.

“Boy!” Stark croaked suddenly, wheeling overhead.

She glanced at him, ear flattening, and followed the angle of his wing to a fawn gazing from the undergrowth. It retreated at the sight of her, and she scowled. Saluting the raven, she left the dead doe and jogged after the orphan. She supposed she might be able to share it with Helotes or Myrika—both ate more than her, and it’d be an excuse to be in their company without looking less manly or seeming overly smitten, respectively.

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