02-18-2010, 02:56 PM
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@$%&Alacrity was a little startled at the ease in which she settled into Inferni life. There were many adjustments from the lifestyle she had been living, but part of her nature was to take such changes in good-natured stride. She had a suspicion that this was partially due to the consistent – but not constant – company of Anselm. Even if she could not quite pinpoint the exact nature of her relationship with the coyote man, his company always left her smiling -- and for now that was enough.
@$%&Living underground in the caves had not bothered her nearly as much as she thought it might have. Granted, she slept poorly the first few nights, unaccustomed to the acute quiet and the lack of currents in the air. Slowly, however, she grew accustomed to the stone overhead and the lackluster lighting of the indoor world. Besides, the caves were certainly much warmer than the exterior winter, something her thin-pelted self appreciated immensely. The cave walls were low and close, but the washed stone was much more inviting than the cut-plank structures common in European hovels. Alacrity was able to be at ease in this natural creation; she would come to call it cozy, in time.
@$%&By now, the wounds on her shoulder were almost completely healed; but the flesh had knit together much more slowly than Alacrity would have liked. Initially, she was sure it was due to the lack of her usual tonics and poultices that bolstered healing. Then she began to wonder if the wounds had been more severe than she was originally assumed – either that, or her body was spending so much energy keeping warm that it had little to spare for building new layers of muscle, skin, and fur.
@$%&Alacrity was not yet willing to test her healed limb with a run strenuous enough to keep her warm in the winter temperatures. Yet she was beginning to get restless – there were only so many stretching exercises that could be performed in the limited space of the cave. Still, she was a disciplined creature, and if she must perform the same basic routines three times a day, so be it. It wouldn’t do to not have full function of her shoulder when she finally did step into the outside world again.
@$%&Boredom was a virtual unknown for the African woman. Alacrity preferred motion over stillness, a trait which had opened doors for her as one of many younger daughters. Even if she had possessed an affinity toward idleness, the structure of her home community would not have generously allowed for it. Now, for the first time, she was forced into virtual inaction. This was the cause of a few days of distress on her part, until she began to take advantage of the books Anselm had laying around the cave.
@$%&In the quiet weeks, Alacrity slowly honed her reading skills. Previously, she was barely literate: what use did a creature confined to four legs have with the written word? Writing was impossible, and flipping pages a careful exercise in dexterity so as not to damage aging paper. That she could read at all was a testament to her mother’s influence as a future-minded leader – all of the clan’s youth were taught their letters. To keep up with the times, the matron had said. But it was the elder daughters, not the younger, who would have to concern themselves with written treaties and other dealings with two-legged folk, and so she, a humble scout, learned only what her tutors deemed necessary.
@$%&It was partially the struggle that compelled her studies. She might spend hours on the same page, willing the letters to divulge their hidden secrets. What she was reading was virtually immaterial – the important fact was that she was reading at all. In time, Alacrity swallowed her pride and asked her host for help, especially with cumbersome, technical words that were awkward to translate. These times of quiet companionship were ones she treasured.
@$%&And then it was one day, some weeks after midwinter, when Alacrity woke to Anselm’s tender caress. Startled but not displeased, she was awake almost instantly, and habitually blinking the sleep from her eyes. She allowed herself one long, luxurious stretch before following the male’s tawny backside out of the den. A dozen questions bubbled up, but Alacrity didn’t voice any of them – his tone had been mysterious, in the “you’ll-see-so-don’t-ask” sort of way. Having played the same trick on any number of hapless younger siblings, she knew well the best ploy was to hush and play along.
@$%&He led her out and up the hill, into the new sunrise. It was a lovely morning, and at first Alacrity assumed the summons had been due to the mild-natured promise of today’s weather. But she noticed, immediately, the garments carefully laid out on the boulder and the feast that accompanied it; and went, quite suddenly, very still. In that shocked first breath she recognized the kinds of gifts young suitors would frequently bring her elder sisters, seeking their favor. Anselm could not have picked a more perfect way to express his intentions, even if she, poor girl, had no idea what to do with the offering. "Anselm, what is all of this?” If she was pleased, it was lost in the confusion and bewildered look on her face, as emotion and realization rolled over and over in her mind, tumbling downward like pups wrestling on a hillside.
I am sorry my friend. Please forgive the obscene delays – I’ve been using this post to claw my way out of writer’s block, one paragraph at a time.
@$%&Living underground in the caves had not bothered her nearly as much as she thought it might have. Granted, she slept poorly the first few nights, unaccustomed to the acute quiet and the lack of currents in the air. Slowly, however, she grew accustomed to the stone overhead and the lackluster lighting of the indoor world. Besides, the caves were certainly much warmer than the exterior winter, something her thin-pelted self appreciated immensely. The cave walls were low and close, but the washed stone was much more inviting than the cut-plank structures common in European hovels. Alacrity was able to be at ease in this natural creation; she would come to call it cozy, in time.
@$%&By now, the wounds on her shoulder were almost completely healed; but the flesh had knit together much more slowly than Alacrity would have liked. Initially, she was sure it was due to the lack of her usual tonics and poultices that bolstered healing. Then she began to wonder if the wounds had been more severe than she was originally assumed – either that, or her body was spending so much energy keeping warm that it had little to spare for building new layers of muscle, skin, and fur.
@$%&Alacrity was not yet willing to test her healed limb with a run strenuous enough to keep her warm in the winter temperatures. Yet she was beginning to get restless – there were only so many stretching exercises that could be performed in the limited space of the cave. Still, she was a disciplined creature, and if she must perform the same basic routines three times a day, so be it. It wouldn’t do to not have full function of her shoulder when she finally did step into the outside world again.
@$%&Boredom was a virtual unknown for the African woman. Alacrity preferred motion over stillness, a trait which had opened doors for her as one of many younger daughters. Even if she had possessed an affinity toward idleness, the structure of her home community would not have generously allowed for it. Now, for the first time, she was forced into virtual inaction. This was the cause of a few days of distress on her part, until she began to take advantage of the books Anselm had laying around the cave.
@$%&In the quiet weeks, Alacrity slowly honed her reading skills. Previously, she was barely literate: what use did a creature confined to four legs have with the written word? Writing was impossible, and flipping pages a careful exercise in dexterity so as not to damage aging paper. That she could read at all was a testament to her mother’s influence as a future-minded leader – all of the clan’s youth were taught their letters. To keep up with the times, the matron had said. But it was the elder daughters, not the younger, who would have to concern themselves with written treaties and other dealings with two-legged folk, and so she, a humble scout, learned only what her tutors deemed necessary.
@$%&It was partially the struggle that compelled her studies. She might spend hours on the same page, willing the letters to divulge their hidden secrets. What she was reading was virtually immaterial – the important fact was that she was reading at all. In time, Alacrity swallowed her pride and asked her host for help, especially with cumbersome, technical words that were awkward to translate. These times of quiet companionship were ones she treasured.
@$%&And then it was one day, some weeks after midwinter, when Alacrity woke to Anselm’s tender caress. Startled but not displeased, she was awake almost instantly, and habitually blinking the sleep from her eyes. She allowed herself one long, luxurious stretch before following the male’s tawny backside out of the den. A dozen questions bubbled up, but Alacrity didn’t voice any of them – his tone had been mysterious, in the “you’ll-see-so-don’t-ask” sort of way. Having played the same trick on any number of hapless younger siblings, she knew well the best ploy was to hush and play along.
@$%&He led her out and up the hill, into the new sunrise. It was a lovely morning, and at first Alacrity assumed the summons had been due to the mild-natured promise of today’s weather. But she noticed, immediately, the garments carefully laid out on the boulder and the feast that accompanied it; and went, quite suddenly, very still. In that shocked first breath she recognized the kinds of gifts young suitors would frequently bring her elder sisters, seeking their favor. Anselm could not have picked a more perfect way to express his intentions, even if she, poor girl, had no idea what to do with the offering. "Anselm, what is all of this?” If she was pleased, it was lost in the confusion and bewildered look on her face, as emotion and realization rolled over and over in her mind, tumbling downward like pups wrestling on a hillside.
I am sorry my friend. Please forgive the obscene delays – I’ve been using this post to claw my way out of writer’s block, one paragraph at a time.
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