Sing a song of sixpence

P. Calia | Northern borders

POSTED: Fri May 04, 2018 11:04 pm

It felt to Milos as though spring had arrived with a ferocity that was much needed and greatly welcome. Melting away the cold and snow, the sun burned bright in an azure sky. It warmed the earth and fed the plants and everywhere he turned his sunny eyes, he could see evidence of life stirring from its long, seasonal slumber. As it always did, spring made him hopeful and eager for the coming summer; for longer days and warmer nights; for the wet sounds of Krokar's water system; for fishing and tanning and long days outside doing nothing but resting in the sun.

Walking steadfast south from Krokar, Milos was headed straight for Mistfell Vale to fulfill a promise he had made for the neighboring pack's Nightstag. At his side, pulling a cart loaded with items, walked the dark, shaggy shape of one of the pack's friendliest caribou, Jack. A modest rack of soft antlers sprouted from the top of his umber head, lined with velvet and not yet fully grown. But with the increased supply of food and energy, Milos knew that they would experience a boost of growth over the next few months before the rut.

As the scent – stronger now, Milos thought, than the last time he had wandered toward Mistwalker territory – of his destination grew, the Quartermaster took a glance behind him at the cart and its belongings. As he did, his bright eyes caught sight of a cat sitting upright upon the thick hide of the caribou bull, her bronze eyes curious and alert. Milos furrowed his brows. "Who invited you along?" he asked. "Goddess knows it wasn't me."

Flicking her black tail, the spotted cat opened her mouth and gave him an enormous yawn before flicking her eyes away. "Would believe if said Meerclar?" she purred in broken high speech.

Easing Jack to a stop at the border of Mistfell Vale, Milos shook his head but allowed amusement to quirk his lips. "Actually," he began, thinking fondly of the ornery blue tabby queen. Moo was the last of her youngest brood to leave the family home... except it was becoming increasingly apparently that she never would, much to Meerclar's irritation. "Almost would, I reckon."

Tilting his head back, Milos let out a call for Calia Larsen, Nightstag of Mistfell Vale, and waited.

[WC — 393]

Krokar
Quartermaster
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Mandi
Moderator Luperci Mate to Eliza Drover, Leatherworker, Tailor Little Bandit
can you pull down the dawn?

POSTED: Tue May 15, 2018 5:00 pm

Calia

While Calia adored spring weather for its warm airs, bountiful meadows, and baby goats, it also symbolized her tradition of only venturing out during dusk and dawn. The albino’s sensitive eyes did not fare well against the strengthening sun’s rays, so she resigned herself to keeping inside, or sticking close to the treelines when herding her goats. However, the gift that Baelish presented her changed everything. It was no more than a simple hood, fashioned from pieces of pale red cloth. While not flawless, when thrown over the Nightstag’s head, she found that the hood shielded her eyes from the majority of the bright light.

So during one of the season’s first full days of sunlight, Calia was able to march right alongside her goats when leading them to their grazing spots. When the snow melted, off came her beast’s thick, wooly coats. Though their fur was sleek, they were beginning to put on some weight once more with the sudden bounty of green grass available. The shepherd smiled as she observed the young kids with their mothers, and at the billy goat’s displays of dominance.

At Milos’ call, the Nightstag gave a soft smile. She and the Quartermaster had parted on friendly terms during their last encounter, despite the rather awkward introduction. And Milos, ever true to his word, had revisited once more, hopefully with some trade items in hand. Calia stopped by her cottage to pick up a few items before making the trek to the Vale’s border, wooden crook in hand.

”Well, hello there!” The Nightstag called out cheerfully as she approached the trader. The shepherd’s eyes widened at the sight of goods that piled in the cart besides him. And, perhaps even more so, at the creature that pulled it. ”Say, this one of your fabled caribou?” Calia inquired, extending a hand for the beast to sniff.

wc 311
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Mistfell Vale
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El
Luperci Tier I
Baa Baa Black Sheep

POSTED: Wed May 23, 2018 9:55 am

As the last of Milos' call died in the spring breeze, the Quartermaster turned back to Jack and his stowaway. Comfortable on the broad hide of the caribou, the black-splotched cat had begun to clean herself, rhythmically licking one white foreleg and rubbing it along her head before starting the process all over again. Milos watched her for a while, then moved to check on the items in his cart. It seemed that everything had survived the trip and was well accounted for. Nodding, the Krokaran stepped back around his cart toward the caribou again just as a familiar scent wove into his nose.

He smiled at the ivory figure that emerged from the depths of Mistfell Vale, offering a friendly wave. Giving her hood a cursory glance, Milos tapped the top of his head and grinned more pointedly. "Matches your eyes," he commented brightly as she approached, then turned to look at Jack. Still situated on his rump, Moo had stopped cleaning herself and was watching the new figure with wide, copper eyes. "Sure is! This's Jack." Stretching his shaggy neck, the caribou snuffled the woman's extended hand curiously, searching for snacks. "Here, ya can give 'im one'a these." Digging in the pocket of his shorts, Milos offered Calia a piece of dried apple from last autumn's harvest.

Once she had been properly introduced to the caribou, Milos waved a hand toward the cart. "Got a few things for Mistfell Vale, as a sign'a goodwill'n such," he explained, gesturing for Calia to follow him. He walked to the cart while Moo watched them silently. "Cat's Moo," he said, then added in explanation, "Stowaway." He shrugged and grinned.

Inside the cart were several items: several caribou antlers of various cuts and lengths, a sack of dried fish, a basket that chirped softly, caribou milk cheese, some hides and furs, and a few pieces of cloth that Milos had woven himself. "Now, as a gift from Krokar t' Mistfell Vale, we'd like ya t' have a few things." The Quartermaster offered up the caribou antlers and the sack of dried fish, all caught within their own waters. He then took the basket in his hands and opened the lid. "We'd also like ya t' have these chicks, t' get ya started with eggs'n such. There're two hens'n a rooster, I reckon." He beamed.

[WC — 405]

Krokar
Quartermaster
User avatar
Mandi
Moderator Luperci Mate to Eliza Drover, Leatherworker, Tailor Little Bandit
can you pull down the dawn?

Mistfell Vale