[P] There was probably a better way to do this...
#1
The light coming from the front window was enough to wake up Wally, even though it only appeared as a sliver from where he was sleeping. He felt himself uncurl and sit up with a yawn, the cloak falling from his body. He took it off so it could be better used as a blanket and did the same with the wraps so his arms could breathe a bit better. Slowly getting up in the darker building, he stretched his limbs as he walked into the main room, tapping a rusted piece of piping with his toe as he did so. He kept it since it was interesting, but he smacked his foot against it one morning. Nowadays, he only tapped it just to remember it was there.

With his arms wrapped up, the cloak attached securely, and with a few berries in his belly, Wally picked up his spear and was ready for the day. Looking over the main room, he noticed it looked a bit barren, with extra materials or other things placed towards the back wall. It didn't bother him, but maybe he could get a table or something else to make it a bit cozier. Of course, it was rather dark, but Wally would rather keep it like that instead of lighting some candles; while he could stand the presence of fire, it unnerved him and lighting one created more hassle than it was worth. Walking over to the door, he pulled it open a bit to see some snow spill in. Closing it, he thought up his options. He didn't want to throw out the snow again, but maybe there was a way to bypass it...

To anyone passing by, they would probably be shocked to see a spear-like stake be thrown out a window, then followed by a dog. There was enough snow piled out the window to cushion Wally's face-first fall, whose form sunk a bit into the snow piled up. Quickly getting to his feet, he shielded his eyes from the rising sun as he retrieved his spear with a face relatively deadpan compared to what just happened.
#2
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OOC :: Words→ 351
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The air was cold, but Falcon was warm. She’d heated her clothes by the fire before leaving the house and poured a cup of hot broth to take with her on her rounds. They were just a collection of ever-growing things she started her day with—checking if her packmates needed her help, making sure there were no potential hazards around town, and so on—but she treated them like part of her job. Once Falcon was done, she’d run home to warm her clothes and belly again before heading to Hee Haw Orchard. Maybe she’d stop at Ezra’s papermill too, just to see what he was up to.

The Elkenfrey jumped when a spear landed in her peripheral vision, nearly dropping her half-empty cup. She turned to see Wally tumble out of his window and land face first in the snow. The yearling stood, shielding his eyes from the sun as he did so, and collected his thrown spear. Falcon glanced up the street toward her intended destination, a small clearing on the edge of Winterwynd; she was trying to figure out what to do with the rusted hunks of metal and large, black wheels she’d found covered in dead vines and fresh snow.

”Front door won’t open?” Falcon asked, taking a sip of her broth; the past few days had been cold enough to warrant cooking large pots of it, the excess she couldn’t drink given to families who would. The green-eyed woman glanced at Wally’s front door and noted the large pile of snow that had been blown in front of it; it was melting, but it was still in the way. ”I just have icicles all over my roof.” They were pretty, and heavy, and she’d started knocking down the biggest ones to keep them from damaging her house.

There was also snow piling up against her back door, but she didn’t mind taking the long way around to get to the garden; she just had to avoid banging her head on any icicles.

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Note: Falcon uses he/him pronouns publicly (i.e. to most packmates, acquaintances, and strangers) and she/her pronouns privately (i.e. to specific, close friends).
#3
Shaking some of the snow from his fur and brushing off the rest, Wally finally noticed the presence of another luperci. "Mornin'." With the automatic greeting out of the way, the shepherd dog realized who he was speaking to. "How've ye been? I'm guessing yer day started better than me own."

Wally turned to the door. "I'm sure I could've opened it if I tried hard enough, but I didn't really want to shovel it out. It always make me hands chilled." He really needed to get a shovel. He was sure he saw a few in the storage shed, but he had yet to go back to see if there were any there, nor did he feel comfortable taking something from there. The last thing he needed was to cause a pack-wide disaster due to a missing shovel.

"Icicles? Maybe I could knock a few of those down for ye." If there was one good thing Wally liked about the cold, it was the formation of those ice spikes. He had yet to have one threaten his life since he would always use his spear to swipe at them. It was a means to help him practice with his distance, and while he usually got showered by the ice afterwards, he thoroughly enjoyed it to the point he knocked the icicles from some of the unoccupied houses. He didn't know if there were others who shared his love for knocking them down or if they found it a nice addition to the snowy scenery.

Turning his attention to whatever Falcon took a quick look at, Wally asked, "Ye need help with anything? I don't have anythin' important today, so let me know if ye need help." As of now, his plans involved finding a deer and hunting it down, a likely futile effort, and then pick berries. As of late, there seemed to be less berries to be picked. Wally chalked it up to more of the pack picking berries instead of hunting, since deer and rabbits in the area were few and far between.
#4
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[+522]
Clipped wings, I was a broken thing

Falcon tilted her head to the side, cradling the hot cup in her gloved hands. She supposed that made sense; she hadn’t enjoyed shoveling snow last winter, before she had her gloves. ”I guess so. My clothes are warm and my drink is warm, so I’m pretty happy. Maybe you should borrow a shovel—I think I saw one behind Old Brassard Church,” she said, gesturing in its direction. Wherever it was, she’d probably need it for her back door at some point.

”Someone’s excited. I wouldn’t mind the help, especially since I try to clear everyone else’s. You wouldn’t happen to be the one clearing the unoccupied houses, would you?” She took another sip of her drink, almost slurping at the end; she was happy she had such a tall cup.

Falcon glanced up at the half-blue sky and wondered how her future snow storage was holding up in the sun. She’d put a call out for empty jars and bottles from her packmates, ones they’d emptied out at some point and hadn’t yet refilled, and she planned on using them to shuffle smaller amounts of broth around the Vale. The hardest part wasn’t going to be making the broth anymore, or getting a heavy pot half-filled with hot liquid to someone’s house; it was going to be finding a way to keep them fresh for more than a day. She was already anxious about leaving the broth unattended, whether in her incomplete hearth or in Old Brassard Church next door, so she definitely couldn't do it for days in a row.

The Elkenfrey knew it wouldn’t be particularly useful when all the snow melted, but it would help feed the pack next winter—and maybe even help into the next spring, if she could dig a root cellar with her packmates before then. It would be an ambitious project, more ambitious than anything she’d ever tried to organize, but a piece of cake for the entire pack. It would give them accessible, long-term storage, and they might even be able to store snow into early spring.

Wally’s voice dragged her out of her thoughts, her mind having wandered back to work again; she wished it would stop doing that. ”I’m… Not sure, really. I usually just wander around Winterwynd until I have a list of jobs to do,” Falcon said, shrugging. ”I’ve been patrolling a lot, too. I found an abandoned camp in a clearing past the northern border—I might go looking for others, see if I can track down whoever made it.” The camp had been too old and picked through for her to recognize any scents, but it was close enough to make her worry.

”Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” Falcon asked, pressing her warm cup to her cold cheek. The sun was out, but it was still so cold. Maybe Wally had seen something strange and brushed it off. ”I… Don’t like it. It makes me worry.” Falcon wasn’t afraid to be honest with the boy; she didn’t know what this meant, but it wasn’t good.

had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing
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Note: Falcon uses he/him pronouns publicly (i.e. to most packmates, acquaintances, and strangers) and she/her pronouns privately (i.e. to specific, close friends).
#5
397 Words

"Maybe I'll do that next time, or at the end of the day." It would be nice to use the door without snow spilling in, but that would be for later. There was bound to be something else to do today.

Falcon was uncannily perceptive in Wally's mind, who would probably have not noticed the icicles missing if he didn't do it himself. "Aye, ye be right 'bout that..." He stopped as Falcon continued drinking something. "By the way, what be ye drinkin'?" He had yet to see what was inside, but if it was warm, he might ask for some. Hunger was no stranger to him, and filling up would make him feel good for the first half of the day.

At the mention of a camp, Wally tilted his head a bit as he crossed his arms. "I haven't seen any camps. I guess the odd thing is some footprints, but I've always thought it be from the Vale, some of our own kind bandin' together to hunt. I guess food's harder, but it could be because of winter." He sighed, rubbing his face. "I swear, when summer comes 'round, I'll eat everythin' I can get me hands on. I'm tired of starvin'."

"I wonder if any of them be friendly though, if they jus' haven't noticed we exist right here. Maybe this just be some misunderstadin' or along those lines, and they just haven't noticed. It's certainly possible." He easily spoke from experience, wondering how many warning signs he passed by without his nose picking them up. "I'll come lookin' with ye if ye want, I doubt I'll catch a deer today."

There was a fear from Falcon that unsettled Wally a bit. It didn't do much, but it was similar to the coyote attack in his old pack. The only difference was the signs were seen within a span of a week, and everyone knew it would happen. Maybe that was part of the reason Wally was as relaxed as he was, since he couldn't picture a scenario more dire than that night. "If somethin' does happen, I think we'll be fine. We have bows on our side, an' that's terrifying fer anyone involved. Besides, if those were trespassers, they be nothin' compared to some of the things I came across comin' up here. Those be some scary night, believe me on that."
#6
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[+406]
Clipped wings, I was a broken thing

”Rabbit broth,” Falcon said, swirling the warm liquid idly. ”The rest of it is still bubbling away in Old Brassard if you want some.” Her packmates usually did, especially when she started a pot the previous night and let it cook well into the afternoon. ”I don’t know if Brom’s gotten to it yet, though—he can drink a lot more broth than you’d think.” Falcon preferred moderation, at least in one sitting.

The Elkenfrey sighed and offered the man a commiseratory frown. ”I love broth and stew as much as the next luperci, but I can’t wait until I can eat raw rabbit without feeling wasteful.” Most of it had to be saved for broth and stew, things that could be stretched further than the meat used to make it; it was the only thing keeping Falcon as full as she was. ”I just hope we aren’t starving because of whoever made that camp.”

Early winter hadn’t seemed much different than late fall, but their hunters’ luck just kept getting worse—Falcon’s included.

Wally’s optimism made her smile. She supposed their border markings were weaker than she’d have liked under all the ice and snow, weak enough to miss from a distance, but she didn’t think they were that weak. ”Maybe,” Falcon offered, not quite convinced. The dog man reassured her that a few trespassers were no match for Mistfell Vale, which was a lot of confidence for someone so new to the pack, but she couldn’t help but agree with him. ”Thanks, Wally. Want to walk me back to the church first? We can get some more broth, swing by Hee Haw Orchard, and then hit the road.”

The Elkenfrey wondered what frightening things Wally had come across in his travels, unaware of the long, ivory string hanging from the back of her skirt. Before Falcon could ask about them, she moved to turn toward Old Brassard—and stepped directly onto the string, tearing a rip in the old, worn sail fabric. Falcon winced at the sound and glanced over her shoulder to examine the damage. ”Oh come on, not again, she whined, her lip curling in frustration; why couldn’t it be small and easy to fix like the last one?

The last thing she wanted to do was use up all her mother’s thread on a skirt that kept ripping.

Had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing
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Note: Falcon uses he/him pronouns publicly (i.e. to most packmates, acquaintances, and strangers) and she/her pronouns privately (i.e. to specific, close friends).
#7
382 Words

"Rabbit..." That was all Wally managed before Falcon mentioned he had more broth. Just the mention of the word made his mouth water as he enthusiastically nodded. "Aye, I'd love some. It's better than the berries I've been livin' on." The shepherd dog was sure if Brom didn't finish up the remaining broth, he would be the one to slurp up what was left. Well, maybe not, since he was managing just well enough, but it was an idea he was seriously considering. Even if it was only broth, the remnants of the meat inside was sure to be a good substitute, at least until it was easier to hunt.

"Me too, though, if ye eat it, yer not wastin' it, aye? Either way, someone be getting energy from it. I guess it depends on who." Wally wasn't the kind to think twice about that, especially if he was the one who caught it. After all, leaving any scrap behind would be considered wasting, right? Or, it could be Wally becoming greedier as of recent. After all, it has been a while since he got a decent meal and he didn't have the fears of being attacked in the open to occupy his mind. He did have to agree with Falcon's stance on the trespassers eating up the local food, wondering what kind of canine was sinking their teeth into a rabbit Wally could've been enjoying last night.

The sound of broth made the shepherd dog perk up a bit, his tail wagging a bit. "Sure," he said, wondering what it would taste like and hoping Brom wasn't as desperate for its taste like he was. As the two continued, Wally's ears twitched at the sound of cloth ripping. His attention was drawn to Falcon's dress, which contained a sizeable tear. With a whine, he inspected the damage, Wally also taking a look at it. Repairing the damage was definitely within the realm of his abilities, but he was unsure if he could repair it seamlessly. Not even taking into account his stitching would be different than what was already there, his style was easily much messier. "Does that happen often? If ye want me to, I can try patchin' it up. I have a few things back home I can use."


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