Vision of Beasts

"Do you see something tall and strange, watching, lurking in those dark woods...?"
WC: 233

The green-eyed hybrid stepped out of Old Brassard Church, his body shivering from the cold. The frigid, winter air nipped at Falcon’s exposed fur. He swore he’d heard something… Hadn’t he? Maybe it was just the wind. What else would, or even could, it be? Falcon sighed, pulled his shawl around him tighter, and turned his back to the icy streets of Winterwynd.

A low, eerie howl rose up from the edge of town, swelling up dark alleyways and roaring at the frozen church. “Sedona, are you home?” Falcon called out, his snow-dusted fur standing on end. He glanced at the cattle rancher’s house, at the light shining through its old, thick windows, and hoped she’d answer. The frozen wind whistled above the snowy town, heralding ominous echoes from the southeast. Falcon was young, but he knew those weren’t normal winter sounds.

The frightened Crowstooth worried his skirt for a moment before darting over to Sedona’s house. ”Sedona! Sedona let me in,” he pleaded, resisting the urge to bang on her door, ”Or come out here, please!” Falcon knew it was probably—no, definitely—nothing, but he didn’t want to lead whatever it wasn’t into the church. What would his mother think? She’d tell him to stop crying, be brave, and go face his fears; if only she’d meant it.

WC: 319

Sedona was stoking the fire to a bright blaze, warming the inside of her home while a winter storm whipped up outside. The winds creaked the wooden beams in the roof and rattled the old pane windows, whistling at their worn away seals. Shivering and rubbing her paws together the Hawkesond pulled a thick fur cloak around her shoulders and sat back for a moment in the makeshift nest-bed she'd created out of pile of pelts that she'd once had strewn across the entire floor of the living room. Since she and Sineria now shared a lot of their nights sleeping snuggled close together to conserve warmth, the cowgirl had done a bit of rearranging in her home to accommodate her newfound lover. He preferred his four legged forms over his two, so Sedona had made the house more Secui and Lupus friendly. She herself had even began to utilize her other forms more often. It was funny the little things that changed when you were living with someone you loved.

As the coydog was about to get up to head into her kitchen to check on the fish fillets she was about to sear over the fire, suddenly there was a voice on the howling winds. Sedona's ears perked at the sound of her name. She caught the last few words of what must have been a packmate, even though she couldn't distinguish who it was. "Sedona --come out here please!" They sounded fearful and troubled and so Sedona took a second to grab her hunting knife (just in case) before dawning her thick winter cloak and throwing open the door, casting flickering firelight into the darkness and stepping out into the frigid winds and whipping snow swirling in under the porch. Squinting into the white shadows she just barely picked out the male standing barely 4 feet in front of her. "Who's there? What's wrong pard'ner?!"

WC: 242

The western woman burst from her home, hunting knife in hand, and asked him what was wrong. Falcon was convinced he’d had a good answer before, but now... Now, face to face with Sedona, Falcon felt like a foolish child. ”I-I heard a noise. Sounded like an animal,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering from the cold. Maybe it was hurt or sickly or worse, but Falcon just wanted it to stop moaning on the edge of town.

”I want to investigate, but I don’t want to go alone,” Falcon admitted, shielding his face from the snow with one hand. The green-eyed hybrid was prideful, but he knew better than to deny a helping hand—especially when he’d begged for it in the first place. ”Can you come with me?” Falcon asked, offering Sedona a small smile. He resisted the urge to apologize for bothering her; if this was something important, he knew she’d want to help. At least, he hoped Sedona would.

Falcon stepped closer to the brick and wood building, desperate for warmth and protection from the elements. He’d liked the cold once, but his coyote heritage was spoiled by the summer sun; whatever was dying outside Winterwynd better be worth it. The sooner Falcon could curl up in a bed of furs and fall asleep, the better.

Falcon’s fur stood on end as another moaning howl echoed through the streets of Winterwynd.