[p] caterwaul

Shiloh Dawnbringer · 09-24-2012, 01:02 PM

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Most sane wolves would not venture outside during the storm, but Shiloh was not quite sane—not after cowering in the boarded-up building for hours, the reek of fear and close-pressed bodies and the sound of whispers and whimpers too much for her to bear. The situation had quickly become claustrophobic, and she had to step outside for just a moment, even if the wrath of the gods was outside. She’d waited for a lull in the hurricane, though, for the sound of the wind to die down and the trees to stop rattling near the sheltered house. The rain no longer blew sideways, but it was still heavy as it pelted her, and her normally pristine fur was soaked with mud after only a few minutes walking through the village.

She wanted to cry; that was the end of it. The female liked to think of herself as strong, and she’d put on a brave face when with the puppies and her family, but now that she was outside she sobbed and hiccuped and looked up into the rain, which streamed down her cheeks like tears. Vinátta was a disarranged mess, and it would take weeks to recover from the torrential downpour, let alone the forceful winds that wrecked the weaker structures in the territory. So shortly after settling down in her home, this had happened, and she didn’t know if she could last the rest of the storm.

Shiloh spent a few minutes walking in the sheltered sections of Jordheim, crying and feeling sorry for herself and for Saul and for the rest of her pack. She wouldn’t dare do something like this if there were other eyes on her, but for now she simply walked and wallowed, trembling and wrapping her arms tightly around herself as the rain poured down. She went from too-hot from staying in the house to freezing, and she decided that it was probably time to get back inside—at least once she regained her composure. She could be weak in private, but not in front of the others.

As she walked back along the way she’d come, perhaps lingering a little too close to the edge of the forest that encroached on Jordheim, sheltered as it was. The volume of the rain fluctuated around her, and she had to shield her eyes as it was driven to the side by a strong wind; the storm was starting up again, and she didn’t have long to seek shelter. She heard sections of branches crashing through the undergrowth in the woods and started to run—but then there was a larger crash and she froze, pricking her ears as strands of hair whipped at her face.

Later, Shiloh Dawnbringer could not say what made her walk toward the trees and the furiously waving branches. It seemed counterintuitive to her survival, and there was nothing to beckon her—not a yowl, she realized later, not even a pathetic mewl. But suddenly she was staring at a little shape pressed close against a tree trunk, barely visible for the leafy bunch of thin branches caging it. She didn’t know what she was even looking at before a pair of very rich yellow eyes opened and locked on her, and suddenly the woman dove down and began to tear the twigs away.

“Come here, baby, I’ve got you,” Shiloh cooed, her voice trembling, and the dark cat immediately pressed into her arms. It was shaking and completely covered in mud and debris, but she clutched it close before darting away from the trees, heading to the more sheltered areas in the middle of the village. She needed to get back to Saul and Lilin’s house where the weak were staying, but she didn’t want to risk the feline going mad once inside, and she didn’t know who to—

“Hold on, sweetie,” the woman whispered to the cat, and covered her ears with a paw before throwing her head back and howling to the one wolf who might know what to do.

Word Count → 674

Sorry for the major tl;dr. D: All but last bit skippable.

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