Amy scuffed her way through the musky buildings. She had spotted the town from a distance, and had decided to stop in with the hopes of finding canines to trade with. Spots of civility were hard to find, making her eager when she spotted something. The town was abandoned though, shattering her hopes of talking to decent company. Walking through Amy studied the area around her. There was no remains of the humans scattered about like there had been in the bigger city. She figured the skeletons were probably in the houses, or fields around them. Small places did tend to have that charm.
Heading further out Amy observed several trees with fruit. Snow had dusted over them, but a few stubborn ones still clung on. Walking closer Amy had to admit it was a shame. The fruit would have been valuable. Instead it had been left to rot, with no one tending to it. She made a note to herself to return to this place when the fruit bloomed again and turned to continue on her way through the town.
the best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.
Word Count → 416 :: Hiya! Hope you don't mind me joining. :3
It had been a few weeks since the hog hunt, and Wayne was finally well enough to head outside of the territory. The man hadn’t done very well cooped up in his and Dixie’s room, especially when the small Samoyed mix had departed, leaving behind enough to eat and drink until he was well enough to get up and find something himself. Without his constant companion around, there had been little to take his mind off the soreness he’d suffered from the hunt.
He still ached when he bent certain ways, but astride gentle Fern, walking through the fertile, winter-dusted fields of the small village, the Labrador was feeling a lot better. He stroked the horse’s neck as they walked, riding with minimal tack. Occasionally he’d tug on her mane to bring her attention to something new, but for the most part he simply sat on her wide back, letting the mare decide where she wanted to go. Her colt had been taken from her, and while he knew that Dixie would find a good home for Bark, he wasn’t sure how the equine mother was taking this. Perhaps the slowness of her gait could be more attributed to her sore rider than any kind of melancholy.
He whispered a “whoa” to make her stop, patting her chestnut shoulder and glancing around at Wolfville. He could see the harbor in the distance, as well as the shops lining the roads—but what interested him most were the fields that spread across this part of the land. Many looked good for farming; evidence of fertile soil and wild crop plants told him that. While more of a livestock rancher, he did know the very basics about raising vegetables and had developed a taste for them in his youth. Perhaps, if the pack had enough members to expand, they could claim territory out this way; it would be very useful to have land to grow things on, in case there were gardeners among their ranks.
Intent on checking the place out, Wayne nudged his heels lightly into the mare’s flanks and urged her forward again. Her hooves clopped briefly on the pavement before thudding muffled in the grass, and the cowboy kept his ears perked for any other footsteps while his eyes scanned the area. This looked promising; he might have to grab a few others of the pack to come out this way and see if there was anything to salvage in the buildings or the fields.
OOC is good. This thread was lonely. I don't actually have any plans for this, so if you have a good idea just put it out there
Word Count → 000
Amy lifted her head as she heard someone stride through the town. Picking up her pace she walked towards the source. Stepping around the building she watched a man on horseback travel through the town. He was injured, though not nearly to the extent the male she'd played with was. He still hadn't woken up, in too much pain to leave the wagon.
She smiled up at him, enjoying the view of his muscles. Good day. How are you? Amy made sure to keep a good distance between them, not wanting to surprise him with her sudden appearance. Daintily she walked forward, approaching the horse. When she got close enough she held out a hand for the horse to sniff. It was a beautiful mare. Amy could use one like it for trading. Her own horse simply pulled the wagon, with nothing more to it than that. This horse though, was obviously a work of art.
Cheerfully Amy moved her gaze to the rider. That looks quite painful. Have a bad run in? Not being a hunter herself Amy was unfamiliar with the wounds prey could give. She thought that since they ate them they were obviously weaker, in no state to fight back against them. That meant a scrape with another canine, something she was more than familiar with.
It did not take long before Wayne found something of interest in the dilapidated village, but rather than a unique object, it was another living being—a creamy-gold dog who walked toward him. Fingers fisted in the mare’s mane, still not quite familiar without leather reins between them, and he pulled lightly. Fern obeyed and shifted her weight as the female luperci walked up to them; she was a mild-mannered horse even around strangers, provided they weren’t too intimidating, and as the dog was not growling or waving a weapon, she remained calm. If anything, her ears turned forward a bit in interest.
The Labrador man returned her greeting with a slight smile, tipping his hat amicably. “Fine, thank you,” he said, watching Fern sniff the offered paw with some satisfaction. It was still odd not having Dixie-May jabbering to the new acquaintance and dominating the conversation—but since she’d left without a word, he figured he would have to get used to it. Swallowing some of his bitterness, he considered dismounting from the horse to get on level from the luperci, but he’d scope the woman out first—see if she wanted a long conversation or if this was a little friendly chat preceding something simple. It would be to his embarrassment if she only wanted directions.
The woman pointed out his scar, and he glanced at it with a soft chuckle. “Ain’t painful anymore. It was a hunt, though; wild hogs are stronger ’n many people give ’em credit for.”
Pausing, the cowboy looked at her again, his smile small but content. “What’re you doin’ ’round these parts, Miss…?”
Amy couldn't hide her surprise at the male's words. A wild pig had done that? The wound looked large enough to come from another canine, yet he claimed prey had caused it. Not being a hunter herself Amy didn't know how fierce a hog could actually be, despite having enjoyed pork several times herself. The wound was covered though, so she could not judge the actual form or extent of the wound. Collecting herself Amy put her mask of collectedness back on. It wouldn't do for someone to see her frazzled.
The conversation turned towards what Amy was doing in the small town. Her tail wagged slightly as she considered the answer. The area was unclaimed, so there were no trespass rules to worry about. At the same time she didn't want to sound like a fool by telling him she'd been expecting to find civilization. She would only tell him part of the truth then. That way the man would have no way to mock her.
I came looking for supplies. I'm a merchant, and when I saw a town I thought I might find things to sell. There's fruit, but it's no good at this time of year. I'll have to return when the orchard's are ripe. Amy smiled softly, inviting the male to explain his reasons for coming out.
The look of surprise on the woman’s face made Wayne lower his ears sheepishly. He’d already joked with Dixie that no one would take him seriously sporting a gash caused by a pig of all creatures, but he couldn’t feel too silly when he was the one on the receiving end of the blow. He might have joked that the hog had been much worse off, but remembering the absolute bloody pools around the flailing sow, he decided it wasn’t really something to make light of. So he only shrugged his shoulders in response to any silent questions she might have.
The creamy-furred woman explained what she was doing in the town, and he nodded in understanding. “It’s definitely fertile ’around here,” Wayne agreed, glancing over at the adjacent fields. “I was scoutin’ the area out myself. My pack’s a short ways east of here.” He gestured with a thumb then admitted, “I thought we could expand out this way once our numbers get bigger… But I think it’s my old life talkin’. I doubt the lot of them would be too interested in crops.”
They were, after all, a warrior pack—and while they readily accepted the southern canines’ skills in ranching and horses, it was surely just a passing interest rather than a livelihood they wanted to pursue. Cattle were good for meat, and horses were companions that could be ridden into battle, but crops were stretching it. He sighed and lifted his hat for an instant to run his fingers through his short and messy dusty blonde hair.
A pack? Amy's ears flicked with interest. She hadn't realized that she had gotten so close to another pack. Her disjointed traveling had kept her apart from them, instead carrying her over to the far side. Now only a short time later Amy found herself meeting with one of these pack members. It seemed everything she'd do here was blessed with luck.
It was good they wouldn't be expanding out though. Amy had been counting on getting the fruit without the interference of other canines. From the male's words it sounded like that might not be completely true after all. Even if the land wasn't claimed by the pack it was still close enough that Amy viewed it as competition for her fruit.
Amy's eyebrows raised as he went on to explain why. Your old life? You used to be a farmer? Amy had dealt with poor farmers in Europe. The land was quite good, but usually the canines running it were too weak to actually handle taking care of the crops. The wealthy ones dealt completely in meat, feeding the endless demand.
Sorry for the craptastic post. I've been asleep and on cold medicine for most of the day and I'm still pretty out of it.
He noted the movement of her ears, but Wayne wasn’t one for elaborating where someone hadn’t asked for elaboration. He would often mention the pack name in introduction, but he knew some folks—especially loners—could care less which group had what name and culture. They looked out for those that were close and those that were dangerous, and they asked no further questions. He was used to having that mindset when they first showed up here; his curiosity hadn’t been as strong as Dixie’s as they traveled around Nova Scotia. It’d really been her idea to settle down with Casa in the first place, as far as he could remember.
He glanced at her when she asked a question, giving his head a small shake. “Cattle rancher,” he said. “But I dealt with crop growers often enough when I went rovin’ with my family. Got used to the scenery, I guess.” He looked out at the fields once more and suppressed a sigh. All this talk was making him more than a little homesick, even though he knew that he would get over it so long as a certain piece of home remained with him. With his friend out traveling right now, however, all he could do was look melancholy for a moment before returning his brown gaze to that of the other dog.
“Don’t think I got your name,” the Labrador mix mumbled, though it was obvious from his tone that his mind was elsewhere right now. “I’m Wayne McCoy.”
Most pack members that Amy had met loved to talk about their packs, bragging about how it was perfect and invited her to join. This one didn't take that opening though, simply leaving it as a stated fact. Amy was disappointed. She could have used the information in case she traded with them in the future. As it was, Amy wouldn't even be able to use the dog's name to gain access as he hadn't given her an invitation to come visit.
Hearing that he used to be a cattle rancher was good news for Amy, as it again decreased the chances of the orchards being claimed. No matter how used to it he was, the hybrid wouldn't be capable of caring for the orchard without the know how. Well, not that it looked like it needed care. The trees had continued bearing fruit without being looked after for this long.
Finally the dog introduced himself. Amy was surprised to hear the distance in his voice now. Until a few moments ago Wayne had been engaged with her, talking and enjoying the view. She wasn't sure what had triggered the change, but she would do her best to shift the attention back to her. Lightly she reached out a hand to touch Wayne. Amy. Care to walk with me? She tilted her head, making sure the angle accentuated her features and flattered her looks.
Shortshort. Once they get walking Wayne'll talk more.
There was light pressure on his leg, and Wayne realized slowly and stupidly that the woman had touched him. She offered her name and invited him to walk with her, and the Labrador mix nodded slowly. He needed to keep his mind away from his friend and focus on the present for now; this was an opportunity to make an ally, even, if he played his cards right. He patted Fern on the neck and carefully dismounted, aware now how long he’d spent on the horse.
“Where to, Amy?” Wayne asked, forcing a smile. He reached one arm up to rub the horse’s cheek as her head came over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure whether or not the mare would be able to head everywhere the dogs would, but he didn’t want Fern to stay too far out of sight. While he trusted the mare not to gallop off somewhere, something or someone might attack or steal her.
Wayne responded to her touch, but it was with a startled reaction. She'd brought him from a long ways off. He was so distant and distracted, and Amy had no idea what had caused it. The best thing to do would be to come up with something that would take up all his attention. Wayne dismounted, and Amy considered the possibilities. Exploring would be good, but it would need to be quite active in order to keep Wayne routed here and not wandering off in his own mind.
Lightly Amy tilted her head towards the residential area. There's houses down this way. I'm sure there'll be some worthwhile things in there. Taking the lead Amy stepped forward, a light spring in her step. Her movements were silent, as expected from an assassin, and still perfectly balanced for a sudden movement. Amy wasn't particularly on watch at the moment, but the ability to move off into a battle was there. You must have really enjoyed your old life. I liked mine as well before coming here. This seems to be a land of dreams though. All kinds of canines come to accomplish things that would be impossible where they came from.
The cowboy followed the tilt of her muzzle in the direction of the houses, and he nodded in agreement. He brightened a little, looking more alert at the prospect. He knew that the winter solstice was coming up, and gifts would be exchanged; perhaps he could find something for one of the pack mates he hadn’t quite gotten to know. And Dixie-May, of course, he would save something special for her if he could get his paws on anything worthwhile. He could forget for a moment about her departure as he imagined this, and so he wore the lightest of smiles as he followed after the blonde dog toward the houses.
Wayne turned his head to glance at Fern, who followed carefully on the broken pavement. He made sure there were no obstacles that the horse might run into then allowed himself to listen to Amy as she made conversation. Once again, the topic only caused him to look back into the past, but he frowned thoughtfully and quickened his pace lightly to catch up with her as he answered.
“Definitely a lot of potential,” the young man thought, thinking mostly of the multitude of packs that made Nova Scotia their home. “You can see why this place gets talked about like it does.” He looked down the street to the docks in the distances and admitted, “Still don’t know if I prefer this or my old life, though… It was all so much simpler back then. I ain’t an ambitious man.” He smirked slightly then paused at one of the houses, bending slightly to glance through the doorway. “What do ya think we’ll find?” he asked her, half playfully.
Amy laughed softly at Wayne's response. There didn't seem to be a particularly large number of ambitious people in the lands so far. All the people she'd met had been rather soft hearted, only looking a day ahead or caring for their friends. It was different from the competitive world she had come from. Maybe that lack of competition was what allowed these people to flourish here. For Amy, it was what would allow her to take control. She didn't have to wade through a sea of blood this time in order to succeed.
Walking up to the house Amy smiled coyly. I suppose it depends on what we're looking for. Any ideas? She winked playfully at the labrador before stepping into the house. It was a nice house, the tear and wear from the humans disappearing having marked it less than the others. The stairs to upstairs had collapsed, but Amy could spot a second set heading down that seemed to be intact. Shall we head down?
First of all, sorry for the wait, and secondly, sorry for the length. I'm trying to catch up both with posts as well as SSWM... And there are probably tons of mistakes in here too. / sswm 630
Ambition was not a driving factor for the simple wolfdog -- or at least not in the magnificient, sometimes malignant sense that most wolves seemed to think when they heard the word. Though he had not wanted to start a pack of his own, not wanted to found anything larger than perhaps a ranch run by him and Dixie, the past few months had proven that there were some things in life that he did want. He had abandoned his rambling loner's life for a growing pack, for instance, and in that way he was helping the 'Souls lands to grow. He still had hopes centered on a particular young woman, and who knew how high those hopes could fly once he let them out of their cage.
No, Wayne might not have thought of himself as ambitious, but he had enough drive to remain strong and optimistic in the quiet wilderness here. And perhaps the constant birth and growth, death and decay, fission and fusion of the factions here betrayed the fact that these lands weren't quite as dead as some might think.
The blonde canine winked back at him, and as he ducked to clear the door frame, he chuckled quietly. "Anything more interesting than a rock is fine with me," he said. His side of the conversation wasn't quite that interesting itself, but he didn't have big dreams when it came to human dwellings like this. He was a practical man, after all. "Tools would be nice. Our pack is hoping to rennovate the buildings in our territory. It'll be more humanized than many of the other groups around here." His voice betrayed no pride for a humanoid lifestyle or scorn for the more feral creatures. He'd grown up in a two-legged world, but it hadn't been as industrialized as those lands across the sea. He recognized that, on many occasions, four legs were better.
He glanced over his shoulder at the light outside and woofed softly at Fern, who snorted in response and stood still. He hoped that she wouldn't be in danger out in the town. So long as she came when he called her again, he could breathe easy.
Surveying the house, Wayne noted the two sets of stairs and nodded at Amy's suggestion. Part of him shivered at the thought of going underground, but this house didn't seem as structurally damaged as some of the others might be. He still tiptoed as softly as he could on the creaking steps, wondering if he shouldn't shift to a smaller shape. His sheer size was useful when it came to working as hard as he did, but weight had its curses.
He paused once he'd reached the last step, glancing around at the basement of the house. Some of these lower stories were bare and dank, but this one had a faded orange couch as well as a television on one side of the room. He wandered over, picking up a VHS from the couch then dropping it when it didn't seem to be useful. There was paper on the wall -- a movie poster that flopped over from its own weight. He smoothed it back up to see stars and what looked like futuristic planes in the background, while a human held a glowing beam-thing that might have been a sword.
The other side of the room had a bookcase. Knowing that many of his pack were more humanized, he wondered if their skill with weapons was matched by skill with reading. He reached over and began to pull out the books one by one, struggling to read the covers.
"Wuh... Wah-tur...ship... Ah, hell." Wayne tossed the rabbit book on the ground and called to the female. "You have any luck findin' something useful?"
Amy walked over and picked up the discarded book. She dusted it off gently, looking at the bright sky with the small rabbit on it. It didn't look like the most interesting book, but Amy knew that there were those willing to trade for any kind of book, no matter what it was about. She studied the room, analyzing it's worth. The couch might be worth something, but was too big to carry. The screen box was useless. She could take it apart and remove some of the more interesting parts though. Some canines were fascinated by human remains. Even incomplete pieces could get a good price.
Amy looked around for a way to disassemble it. There were no tools in this room, but another hallway lead off. She followed it down into a bedroom. Stars spread across the blankets, with even more posters on the wall. Plastic figures lined a shelf. There were some tools as well, though small ones designed to work on hand held objects. They would work well enough though. Amy returned to the main room. Help me take this apart? Amy indicated the television, and walked over to start taking it apart.
Wayne glanced at his blonde companion as she dusted off the book, seeming to find some worth in it. He stared again at the shelves, wondering if any of them were useful or if they were fiction. His practical nature meant that he’d grown quickly out of the storytelling stage, and he preferred to learn things that were useful rather than fall back into an imaginative scene. That wasn’t to say he was against all forms of entertainment, but he didn’t have the patience to try to read a book that he wasn’t going to glean anything from.
Amy disappeared while he was contemplating the worn and warped spines of some of the more ill-cared for books, but when she returned it was with weird tools in her hands and a gesture toward the television. Wayne blinked at the small tools, obviously more curious about them than the heavy box, but he nodded and wandered over to the television.
“Ain’t so good with the technical stuff,” the cowboy admitted, but he moved the television and set it down in such a way that she could get to the sides with the screwdriver and other doodads. “D’ya think I could have those pliers when we’re done with this?” he added, knowing that he might be able to get some use out of them. He stood back uncertainly, wondering what part he could play in disassembling the TV. He wasn’t used to working with human things beyond carts, but he would be able to do any heavy moving she needed.
The cowboy admitted at not being great dealing with technical stuff, but that was fine for Amy. He probably wouldn't understand what she was removing anyways, and Amy herself wasn't too sure what to expect. The box was moved to a position Amy could work with, and she set to taking it apart with the tiny tools. It was difficult, the tools occasionally slipping from the frames, leaving gouges in the wood. At some points Amy lost her patience and just tore into it, ripping into the wood impatiently. The board was removed at last, and she stared at the back in wonder.
Not taking her eyes off it she murmured a reply to the dog. Not too sure. It's human though, so someone will want part of it. Even her highly educated mind couldn't make much sense of the material. Delicately she wove her hands through wires, tearing them out without ceremony. A couple tubes were in there, and Amy took those out in tact. They could be used for building something that needed hollow parts. A spinning fan was removed as well, but that was all Amy could make sense of. The rest was just a bunch of random bits to her.
Standing back up Amy scooped the couple odd pieces into her arms and deposited them on the couch. She handed the miniature tools over to Wayne, and continued scanning the room for more possible items that she could sell at a later date.
Wayne held back a chuckle when the woman dismantled the television set, flat out ripping into it at some points as if she were tearing entrails out of a carcass. The pieces she pulled out looked almost like thin entrails, while much of the junk inside was small and metallic and too confusing for him to fathom. Once she had grabbed the pieces that she liked, handing him the small but hopefully useful tools, he ventured closer to the carcass of the TV and rummaged through whatever was left, finding nothing as he expected.
“Some folks just like somethin’ shiny to look at,” the cowboy said, shaking his head as he withdrew his muscular arm from the box-shaped human contraption. He glanced back at the tools then joined her in her search around the room. Perhaps he would find something interesting if he thought in less practical terms; several objects looked intriguing, and he gave them close inspection, but all in all there were few things he could use for work.
But he didn’t want to leave the house empty-pawed, and so he returned to the bookshelf once more. With how humanized the other Cavalierites were, a few of them were bound to be literate and enjoy these things. He grabbed two at random; the cover of one was mostly torn, though he could read the word “Jungle” on it. Flipping through a couple of pages, he saw a picture of gathered wolves with a tiger stalking in the foreground. The other had a horse illustration on it, which was enough for Wayne to grab it.
“So you say you’re a merchant?” the Labrador asked, glancing up to see if the woman had had any luck. “You don’t smell of any pack; do you come from Freetown?” He knew that she’d left her home for the potential in Nova Scotia, though she could have come from the trading port just as easily as from overseas. It wasn’t too far-fetched to think of a trader actively heading out among the numerous packs to exchange goods.
Amy's luck in this house wasn't much, though she did find some curtains with a floral pattern. She could trade it as cloth for someone who liked that kind of thing. She wasn't too sure if a sale would be made off it, but the chance was still there. Ever an opportunist she seized the items. Lovingly she bundled the tubes and fan inside, picking up her small bundle. It wasn't much, but this was just one house. She could explore more later on.
She glanced over at Wayne as he questioned her. Freetown was a place she'd traded at before, though many didn't like her. They had no choice in the matter though, as those who stood in her way died. Trades could be refused, but Amy still managed to get what she wanted. There would always be those willing to trade with her. No. I come from Europe. I came as the land was much too stifling. Wished for the open air. Things were harder than she'd imagined, but even that part teased and delighted her.
