give me my wings

the dampwoods

POSTED: Tue May 14, 2019 5:56 pm


It had been a few days since her arrival to the lands her grandmother had spoken of. She had returned to Halifax to gather her things, feeling it was time to move on. She had no desire to go deeper into the city; not yet. Perhaps she would find the courage to explore it, but she lacked that courage now. The forest felt safer, somehow.

The scent of a pack was faint in her nostrils. It would be wise to approach and attempt to introduce herself, but even the thought of doing so made her chest clench. Despite her awareness that she would not survive long on her own, the prospect of introducing herself to canines completely unknown to her brought intense fear. Cairo was strong but she was young, inexperienced, and shy in nature. She did not know how to go about joining a pack, fearing possibilities of rejection, attack and enslavement. She just... did not feel ready to take that kind of risk.

The hybrid wore a dark cloak over her shoulders, the hood down. It was an unexpected find from the cottage in which she had slept the past few nights, but one that she was grateful for. The cloak felt natural and comfortable, and it would keep her warm during the colder nights. Her quiver was slung over her shoulder, but she held her bow in her hands, an arrow knocked and pulled taught. She closed her blue eye while focusing her crimson one, her muscles tense, aiming for a large tree several yards ahead. Her breath held, she released the arrow and watched it fly straight past the tree and eventually onto the ground. Cairo sighed softly and lowered the bow, a little dejected but unwilling to stop practicing. She held her bow grasped in one hand and started off to retrieve the arrow.


POSTED: Mon May 20, 2019 11:05 pm


He was restless in his movements, quick and almost twitchy in a way most unlike him. The verdant greenery burst into life as spring rolled across them, a carpet of lushness to cushion his foot falls.

Clenched in pale paws, a bleached white bow was strung taut and ready to be fired, an equally pale arrow nocked securely. Birds chirped, happily, from within the concealing curtain of leaves. The armored man's passing was quiet, many did not even realise he walked among them. The arrows lay still in his quiver.

These forests he knew, if not as well as those closer to home, then at least enough to find his way back.

Sun-gold watched, this way and that, hunting for the prey he knew haunted this particular rise. Their soft calls drew him, close, closer.

He was not prepared for the sudden commotion, or for the fluttering of wings as the wild turkeys took to flight. An arrow sailed by him, off into the woods. Cursing softly, Honrin ran forwards, breaking into the small clearing. He wouldn't lose his own kill for someone else's mistake.

The stragglers were rising into the air. He stopped, drawing back, sighting down the shaft's line, and loosed his arrow. It hissed through the air and hit, a spear right through the turkey's neck. The bird fell away from its fleeing brethren and plummeted to earth.

Honrin released his breath, and turned his eyes to the younger girl briefly, roaming over his bow and arrows, before walking to pick up his kill. He pulled the arrow from its neck, the red a shock against the white.

He was smiling genially however, not generally the reaction of someone who had almost been hit and almost lost what he was hunting.

"You might need a bit more practice there." His nose jerked to the bow she held.

Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii

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Luperci Herdsman, Ambassador (MV) Mate to Guinevere Top Poster

POSTED: Wed Jun 12, 2019 4:00 pm


The scent of wild turkey entered her nostrils just as she let the arrow go and there was a sudden shock of regret. Perhaps she may have focused her attention upon getting something to eat, rather than shooting her arrows into a target of trees. As the arrow flew and landed upon the ground an explosion of feathers and gobbles ensued and she knew she had missed her mark in more ways than one. A deep sigh filled her chest and she could not resist the urge to place a regretful hand-paw against her forehead as she traipsed the undergrowth to retrieve her arrow.

From her peripheral, however, another unexpected sight met her mismatched eyes. A pale man, strong and fit, ripped one of his own arrows from the nape of a fallen fowl. Cairo kept her eyes on him as she lifted her arrow from the earth and replaced it into her quiver. His reaction, however, was an unexpected one. Rather than a display of disgust at her lack of skill and anger at almost being nailed by her stray arrow, he simply noted her need for more practice.

For the moment Cairo stood still, a little wary, a little unsure of how to respond. Finally, a small smile crept across her lips and she conceded to his comment.

I have to... I have to agree with you. She looked away from him momentarily, concealing her embarrassment in an effort to busy herself making sure her weapons were in their proper places, bow over her shoulder and quiver at her back.

I am sorry for disturbing your hunt, she spoke softly. As you probably saw, I was just, uh. Practicing. She returned her eyes to him, surveying his face for any hint of irritation or aggression. Thus far, she detected neither. My name is Cairo. Cairo Sadira.


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