You ain't the boss of me
#1
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AHIGA NISHANT
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Word Count :: 576 There we go :3

Life had seemed to have fallen into some kinda of endless loop, a routine he fulfilled each day. Get up, ride out, attempt to hunt, fail, go home, sulk, sleep, then repeat. Despite all his constant practice at the art of hunting he wasn't getting all that much better and the kills he did manage were more luck then skill, although recently the traps he had been laying out seemed to catch more frequently then usual which mended some of the young Nishant's broken pride. As the morning came he stirred, stretching his stiff body out limb by limb and yawning loudly without care as to whom may be around. Rolling over he felt the uncomfortable pricks of straw, the sound of dragging as the blanket was pulled across the yellow needles as he moved. Gingerly he sat up, blinking and rubbing sleep filled eyes until his surroundings came into focus, followed by the near overwhelming stench of horses bombarding his nose. Twisting his head he spotted Buck munching on the remained of feed he'd left out last night for the stallion, the thoroughbred paid him no mind for it's attention was completely upon the task of eating. Taking in the sounds around him next he noted nothing out of place; just the horses and himself present. Snatching the blanket up with one hand he rose to his feet, stretching as he did so and then shaking the straw of his blanket before holding it neatly and putting it in the small wooden box in the corner of Bucks stool that he used to store some of his stuff.

Lazily he padded over to the stool door, plucking the stallions tack and promptly attaching the various pieces to the horse as he ate; tying a small saddle back and his spear to the saddle and tugging lightly on each once to make sure they wouldn't fall he stepped back to admire his work, grinning like an idiot as he approved of how Buck looked all tacked up and ready to go. Moving towards the door, he reached over blindly and undid the lock and grasped the stallions reigns and lead him out of his stool; kicking the door shut behind him. Leading Buck outside he stopped the thoroughbred just shy by a fence and quickly mounted up, using the wooden planks as a boost. As soon as he was on the horses back, the stallion fidgeted about and eventually settled. Pressing the buckskin's side he set the horse of; his destination anywhere but his home pack in an attempt to break the cycle he'd fallen into.

Travelling lightly it wasn't long before the pair eventually stumbled upon the thick scent that indicated another packs borders. Looking out into the territory he found himself struck by curiosity and common sense told him that trespassing was a bad idea, that if he had no reason to be there he should leave. But that would be obeying, doing what others believed to be appropriate behaviour, following the mould others made; something at that moment he did not and would not do. Urging Buck on he crossed the border, a smug yet nervous grin upon him as he lead the stallion a few paces in before he pulled lightly upon his reigns brining the stallion to a halt. Swinging a leg over the horses side he dismounted with little grace and looked around, suddenly feeling nervous and guilty as anything.

Image courtesy of Jeffrey K. Edwards

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#2
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Word Count :: 000 yay!



The female had been happy today; the trading has been a success so far, and she was still on the lookout for rogue outsiders that might happen to trespass. It seemed that although many of the outsiders had known of the boat, and known that Cercatori d'Arte's borders were open for the moment, others hadn't, and they had merely been trespassing with no regard to the laws of the land. This had not done - she had already chased out one loner that had the audacity to step upon the artisans' soil and yet not know who they were; she would permit those who wished to trade or see the boat, but she would not permit idle trespassers who believed they could do no wrong on her lands.

She then scented an outsider on her lands; this she was not afraid of, and she quickly lolloped to where the male, as she scented, was. She did not scent any of her own with him and assumed that he came alone, without an escort; sooner than she thought, she could view him. He had just dismounted his horse, it seemed, and now the gray man was looking around and seemed slightly uncertain.

"Hello," she said warmly. "You are on the lands of Cercatori d'Arte - are you seeking to view the boat, or perhaps to trade whilst our borders are open?" she asked. She did not approach many of the outsiders this way, as most of them seemed to find one of her own members to transpire with soon enough, but this one seemed as if he were lost, or at least did not know what he was doing. The first thing she did want, however, was to make sure that he indeed was here to trade and make communications.

I am with you, I will carry you through it all, I won't leave you, I will catch you. When you feel like letting go, 'Cause you're not, you're not alone

Image courtesy of harold.lloyd

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#3
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The same old streets, just a different name.
Same old house, just the family's changed.
Word Count :: 349Smile

Very rarely did he stop and think that one of his great ideas were bad. But this time he was pretty sure that trespassing on a foreign pack's land, despite his reasoning being perfectly acceptable, was not one of his finest ideas. Nerves filled him, making him overly alert and every sound made him tense, green eyes darting in every direction. His initially bravery draining he took a cautious step back towards Buck, as if the stallion was some sort of mighty shield which would protect him from all evil. Gingerly he rested his left hand upon the horses neck, temptation to re-mount and run away before someone came along was incredibly high and yet before he could make his great escape a strangers scent reached him, soon followed by a warm female voice.

Grasping Buck's reigns he turned both himself and the horse to face the stranger, allowing himself a moment to take in her pale form and listening tentatively to the words she spoke. The strange female named the lands Cercatori d'Arte; a strange and overly complex name to the young Nishant and he wasn't too certain he could pronounce the entire name correctly, she also mentioned some boat and trading. Fidgeting on the spot he couldn't think of any words to speak; truthfully he had crossed the borders for no real reason other than the compulsive urge to break some form of rule, although the other surely couldn't know that. Within one of the bags on Bucks saddle there were some of the trinkets he had.... acquired through less favourable means; not that he ever intended to steal, it just kind of happened before he realised it. Whenever he saw something he liked, something trivial or anything really that caught his eye, one way or another he ended up in possession of the object.

Tightening his grip upon Buck's reigns he decided to follow the females lead. He was going to lie. “I, eerm, I came to trade with the members here” the words were quite and unsure, as if he were shy rather then guilty.

Hey, Remember me? I remember you walking away

Image courtesy of Jerolek

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