08-16-2009, 07:37 PM
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Dated the 15th
1000+
The world was dark within the den. It was warm and safe, and the two-egg twins struggled to find deeper comfort within the protection of their mother’s fur, of the ring created by the warm and soft stomach and the strong, protective legs. The sounds of their soft mewling had whispered into the darkness as they had struggled blindly, their eyes still closed to the world. And the warrior had slept as they had drunk and had slept, laying in darkness and in Dreaming. As she had first descended into the den, exhaustion had made her sleep without Dreams. The comfort of her familiar shape had made the sleep easy. And she had Dreamt. The pied Raven had come to her and spoke with ambiguous voices—many and one, masculine and effeminate—and she had listened in silence to that voice. A soft breath.
The whisper of a Raven’s wing—
Can you see now the gift which We have given? Dh'aithnichinn air do sheirc do thabhartas. You doubted before. Is fhearr fheuchainn na bhith san duil. Do not doubt again the word of We Transcended.
—silence.
But what was the purpose of all that had occurred? Why had the pups of one she loved been gifted instead of the pups of her father? Why had Corvus been required to find her? The Dreaming whispered wordlessly, and she listened in that sleep. The warrior had been intrigued by the crow-wolf, had desired the darkness and power. And while she had feared, hated, and desired, she had chosen to resist even the lingering desire and had found love instead within the arms of the masked coyote. Yet, had it not been for the crow-wolf, she would not have found the masked coyote dying in the rain, and she would not have discovered love. And for that, she could simply thank the path upon which she had tread. While she had sought to remain free of such emotions, she did not resist it now. And yet—she had dreamt of Corvus, had felt his geld touch upon her skin, the black hand stroking her as she lay there between Dreaming and waking. The Ravens wings drew silence once more, and she had awoken in the stillness of night when even the pups had grown tired. And she had felt longing. Longing. And for that one shard of darkness, she felt shame.
When she had risen, hungry and restless, she had been careful. The pups, however, had not heard or seen her absence, but had felt the lack of warmth. The soft whimpers had caused the woad bound ears to swivel back, but, with no hint of danger or sound of alarm, she had continued to move through the tunnel and back into the world. Onus had hunted, and he had continued to do so, leaving behind rabbits or fish. The black fae ate in silence, swiftly and completely, before returning to the den to allow the hungry puppies to feed and to feel warmth. Gradually, the young creatures moved farther from her, exploring the earthen den with struggling movements under the white, watchful eyes of the Caledonian-Korean. Occasionally, she would rise, coaxing each further with a soft nuzzle of her maw. And both Honor and Chastity responded with a soft nuzzle in return. There was much joy that lit up within the wolf’s quiet soul at that simple touch, and she felt the joy that every mother must feel at the survival of her pups. The black fae had been blessed once more with pups that did not hold deformities, and they had survived with each day. And with each day, they grew.
But the two weeks had been spent in such a way. Despite those joys and the occasional affection, despite the loving gaze she would spare for Onus, a new quietness had settled over her. It had been long since she had run, since she had felt the freedom of the earth beneath her paws and even beneath her feet. And the restlessness that she felt was not within her paws but within her soul. The songs of her Dreaming still echoed within her mind, and their dark tones were both comforting and disturbing. And yet, that day when she had risen that dawn, sitting up with the pups at her stomach, she had looked down to find four glittering eyes looking up at her. There was a long moment of silence and stillness in which the woad warrior simply watched them and they her. Slowly, quietly, a smile graced her maw, and she leaned down to lick them each. Still, they were silent and without speech, but the intelligence and the strange and yet familiar silence behind those strange eyes was enough for the she-wolf.
With a soft pleasure, the black fae rose and the young creatures, rising slowly, followed her. Cwmfen nudged them, taking the short trek slowly and patiently. They whimpered and stumbled, at times rolling back as they moved upon the unfamiliar earth of the tunnel. The woad-bound maw caught them each time, taking careful steps forward to encourage them. "Onus," the alto melody called, her voice quiet for the dimness of the rising sun. There was a subtle excitement within the gentle chords of her voice, for the eyes of their whelps had opened. Her forepaws were set upon the lip of the tunnel as her head lifted, the woad-bound ears alert as they searched for her lover. She did not know if he would be present, but she hoped that the pups, now certain enough to venture forth, would be able to see their sire. And, as if understanding, the innocent lives brushed up against her forelegs, blinking against the brightness of the world with out. Chastity fell against Honor who, in turn, fell against her paw. They mewled with their uncertainty, but Cwmfen lowered her maw to give them each an assuring lick. The woad tipped tail waved once behind her in the darkness of the den. Their paws pressed up against her jaws and she smiled. Looking up, she called for him again. "Onus, look."
1000+
The world was dark within the den. It was warm and safe, and the two-egg twins struggled to find deeper comfort within the protection of their mother’s fur, of the ring created by the warm and soft stomach and the strong, protective legs. The sounds of their soft mewling had whispered into the darkness as they had struggled blindly, their eyes still closed to the world. And the warrior had slept as they had drunk and had slept, laying in darkness and in Dreaming. As she had first descended into the den, exhaustion had made her sleep without Dreams. The comfort of her familiar shape had made the sleep easy. And she had Dreamt. The pied Raven had come to her and spoke with ambiguous voices—many and one, masculine and effeminate—and she had listened in silence to that voice. A soft breath.
The whisper of a Raven’s wing—
Can you see now the gift which We have given? Dh'aithnichinn air do sheirc do thabhartas. You doubted before. Is fhearr fheuchainn na bhith san duil. Do not doubt again the word of We Transcended.
—silence.
But what was the purpose of all that had occurred? Why had the pups of one she loved been gifted instead of the pups of her father? Why had Corvus been required to find her? The Dreaming whispered wordlessly, and she listened in that sleep. The warrior had been intrigued by the crow-wolf, had desired the darkness and power. And while she had feared, hated, and desired, she had chosen to resist even the lingering desire and had found love instead within the arms of the masked coyote. Yet, had it not been for the crow-wolf, she would not have found the masked coyote dying in the rain, and she would not have discovered love. And for that, she could simply thank the path upon which she had tread. While she had sought to remain free of such emotions, she did not resist it now. And yet—she had dreamt of Corvus, had felt his geld touch upon her skin, the black hand stroking her as she lay there between Dreaming and waking. The Ravens wings drew silence once more, and she had awoken in the stillness of night when even the pups had grown tired. And she had felt longing. Longing. And for that one shard of darkness, she felt shame.
When she had risen, hungry and restless, she had been careful. The pups, however, had not heard or seen her absence, but had felt the lack of warmth. The soft whimpers had caused the woad bound ears to swivel back, but, with no hint of danger or sound of alarm, she had continued to move through the tunnel and back into the world. Onus had hunted, and he had continued to do so, leaving behind rabbits or fish. The black fae ate in silence, swiftly and completely, before returning to the den to allow the hungry puppies to feed and to feel warmth. Gradually, the young creatures moved farther from her, exploring the earthen den with struggling movements under the white, watchful eyes of the Caledonian-Korean. Occasionally, she would rise, coaxing each further with a soft nuzzle of her maw. And both Honor and Chastity responded with a soft nuzzle in return. There was much joy that lit up within the wolf’s quiet soul at that simple touch, and she felt the joy that every mother must feel at the survival of her pups. The black fae had been blessed once more with pups that did not hold deformities, and they had survived with each day. And with each day, they grew.
But the two weeks had been spent in such a way. Despite those joys and the occasional affection, despite the loving gaze she would spare for Onus, a new quietness had settled over her. It had been long since she had run, since she had felt the freedom of the earth beneath her paws and even beneath her feet. And the restlessness that she felt was not within her paws but within her soul. The songs of her Dreaming still echoed within her mind, and their dark tones were both comforting and disturbing. And yet, that day when she had risen that dawn, sitting up with the pups at her stomach, she had looked down to find four glittering eyes looking up at her. There was a long moment of silence and stillness in which the woad warrior simply watched them and they her. Slowly, quietly, a smile graced her maw, and she leaned down to lick them each. Still, they were silent and without speech, but the intelligence and the strange and yet familiar silence behind those strange eyes was enough for the she-wolf.
With a soft pleasure, the black fae rose and the young creatures, rising slowly, followed her. Cwmfen nudged them, taking the short trek slowly and patiently. They whimpered and stumbled, at times rolling back as they moved upon the unfamiliar earth of the tunnel. The woad-bound maw caught them each time, taking careful steps forward to encourage them. "Onus," the alto melody called, her voice quiet for the dimness of the rising sun. There was a subtle excitement within the gentle chords of her voice, for the eyes of their whelps had opened. Her forepaws were set upon the lip of the tunnel as her head lifted, the woad-bound ears alert as they searched for her lover. She did not know if he would be present, but she hoped that the pups, now certain enough to venture forth, would be able to see their sire. And, as if understanding, the innocent lives brushed up against her forelegs, blinking against the brightness of the world with out. Chastity fell against Honor who, in turn, fell against her paw. They mewled with their uncertainty, but Cwmfen lowered her maw to give them each an assuring lick. The woad tipped tail waved once behind her in the darkness of the den. Their paws pressed up against her jaws and she smiled. Looking up, she called for him again. "Onus, look."