Survival
#1
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(For Draugr. Backdated to ~Aug. 5)

Sonje by Sie!


When Sonje was just approaching Halifax, she passed the wide expanse that made up the Greater Halifax beyond the city. She rode Jagga slowly along the rural roads, looking out for something to eat. She was presently weaponless, but her slender fingers led to ripping claws and her young teeth were incredibly strong—hunger made her a deadly creature. She pulled on Jagga's halter, urging her to stop, as she slid down and slipped among the the wild grain growing behind a tall red barn. She'd spotted wild pig, but they'd yet to see her. Jagga stayed behind on instinct, wary of her master's voracious attitude, those hungry eyes of a lone wolf.

Creeping through the tall, tan stalks, she passed a sect of charred wood that had once stood a fence. She chose a solid sliver that fit nicely in her hand and didn't bend easy when she applied pressure. She gripped it and crawled forward on three of her four legs, holding it poised to drive fatally into her prey. She sat back on her haunches at the edge of cover between the grass and the barn—about fifty yards away—and she spied with her blanched eyes a small group of sows with their teenagers and young piglets. Sonje's mouth slavered in agreeance with the uncomfortable gurgle of her hungry stomach, and she slunk carefully around, as they foraged and rooted on that late afternoon sun in a wild onion patch.

When she was just close enough, she sprang, making wild, yipping barks to confuse them as they scattered. One of the piglets got in her way, and she kicked it fatally, but it wasn't her intended target. She had to kill one of the sows. Kill the kids, and the mothers might be vengeful. Kill one of the mothers, and the remaining sounder would be fearful. She snarled, coming down agilely upon the spine of her sable-backed opponent, and she drove the stake immediately into the quick-corpse's throat. With a mad squeal and feral thrash, Sonje only dismounted to watch her quarry die, listening to the frightened squeals beyond her as the rest of the sounder regrouped and fled the area (for days), but she bloodied that onion patch, making sure her prey was dead with that wooden stick.

She didn't mutilate it, but her roughness garnered more than several splinters in her light fingers and palm. The wolfdog stood to admire her work and barked loudly for her victory. She then bird-whistled, and smiled in contentment as she could hear Jagga's slow plodding coming steadily nearer from down the grain slope. Sonje then started to drag the carcass, nearly two-thirds of her own weight, towards the barn where she could dismantle it and eat in private. Some fifteen yards away, a dying piglet struggle-crawled (unnoticed by Sonje) towards the field, hopeful, not knowing his irreversible fate of his very insides.


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#2
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(558) sorry for rambling o_o last paragraph is the only one needed to read, really..


Draugr is by me!

Draugr was growing steadily more familiar with Halifax. She doubted very much her ability to navigate the city as she did the forests and fields closest to her home, but at least now she knew what to look for. The tallest buildings -- and often, the worst in condition -- lurked near to the harbor, and the harbor neatly cleaved the city in two. The suburban sprawl surrounding the city was most difficult for Dra to understand, but so long as she could see the spires in the distance, either before or behind her, depending on direction -- she could navigate.

It was away from those tallest places just now. Dyrne was laden with the things she'd scavenged from the city, ranging from trinkets to more valuable knives. She'd found three -- one was streaked with rust and even starting to crumble, but its hilt, of some sturdy and unknown material made by man, might still be salvaged. The next were in just slightly better condition than the first. The best of the three was a dull affair with a slightly loose feel to the blade. Perhaps it was cheaply made -- it might have been better left where she'd found it.

Curiosity had driven her clutching fingers to the city, however, and perhaps it was the thing that made it impossible for her to walk away from such a find. Aside from these, the most prized thing she'd discovered was strung around her neck -- a fourth necklace to compliment her present three. It was a long and thin chain, drooping almost as low as the carved bone necklace, which itself nearly reached her navel. Interspersed with the spidery silver chain, large jewels -- faux ones, Draugr was sure -- sparkled and shone. Its size and prettiness meant it might well fetch a good price, despite the poor quality of the gemstones.

A squeal drew Dyrne into alertness, and the big chestnut stamped one large hoof in irritation. Her head was lifted, ears pricked up. There were noises of struggle and conflict, now drawing the wolfdog's attention. Despite her horse's anxiety, she drove the animal forward. The horse, well-trained, obeyed with minor sourness in her flattened ears, but she obeyed. Motion on the ground before Draugr caught the hybrid's attention, and her pale eyes fixed on the small form of a piglet. Dyrne pawed at the earth, but Draugr directed the mare around the struggling form with indifference.

She was more curious about the figure making its way toward the dilapidated barn, dragging the corpse of a much larger pig. There was still another form, pale gray streaked with coal, making its way more cautiously toward the structure. Draugr gave Dyrne a little bit of her heels, and the big horse broke into a lazy trot, shortening up when they'd covered most of the field between Draugr and this stranger. She pulled Dyrne to a stop altogether and sat a moment, contemplating whether to let the horse wander. In the end, the hybrid decided to remain seated, though she edged the horse forward. Hunter, she called mildly. There was curiosity in her voice -- it was no easy thing to kill the wild pigs left behind. They had lost all shred of domestication, and those which persisted in the world were as tough as their boar ancestors.

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#3
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(Lol, your rambling pleases my eyes though <3 ...mine, however >.>)

Sonje by Sie!


Gripping the pig uncouthly by the gash in its neck and the back of the head, she was scuttling backwards awkwardly, pulling it up the wide path that led to the front of the barn from the main road below. But even with the raucous sound of gravel being raked beneath the lifeless, dead-weight of her prize, Sonje heard horsesteps that were not her own mare's. She looked up sharply, ears pursing in the steed's direction, a thick-footed horse (or of "draft" heritage, in Sonje jargon) like Jagga, she observed from sound alone. She was particularly disappointed though, when the horse did come into view, that it had a rider. She watched warily as the pair came closer, appropriately slowly, but still she stopped moving and kept crouched beside the sow. She suddenly wished she hadn't thrown her charred spike indiscriminately to the side earlier.

Closer, her eyes were drawn to the young woman's hair, and the jewelry dangling against her chest. She sat tall, and had a naturally proud set about her face. Sonje immediately didn't trust her. A lowly snake she could deal with—the slimeballs were either too confident or too neanderthal-like to hide their true intentions—but the placidity, the levelness and sometimes kindness (mostly of women) were simply faces she could not trust. Who knew if a dagger lie up the sleeve of a helping hand? But mostly her unpleasant mistrust came from her naturally feral possessiveness over her kill, the present disadvantage against the obviously well-stocked rider, and the irritatingly eerie attraction to her semblance. Sonje had never seen a girl she thought as radiant as her mother (even if they didn't look alike), it was the Helsi blood she was unwittingly recognizing, as she would never think any woman other than a Helsi could be as magnificent. She would perhaps learn this particular vanity about herself later.

She thought to address the Luperci with an equally as level response, but her nerves were fraying as she realized she could be ambushed at any moment. Breathing, she only managed an ungraciously defensive Yes? betwixt pearly teeth she bore in a frustrated grimace, before pursing her lips in loose reservation. An ear twitched as the bare-backed Jagga finally trotted up behind her, tossing her gray head nervously as she shied from her master's warding anxiety, but standing resolutely near, nervously looking between the parties—her eyes curiously lingered on the other horse, shamefully missing the company of other equines.


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#4
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(313) D'aww ;_; I like your words too thoughhhhh. Sonje is great. GREAT. Big Grin


Draugr is by me!

The figure crouched beside the sprawled corpse of the pig was decidedly female, and Draugr looked on her with surprise and a strange sort of pride for her gender. She had always known the strength of women, and here was proof of it. Perhaps Draugr, too, could kill wild pigs without so much as bloodying herself -- someday, anyway. Huntress, she corrected, unmindful of the terseness of the woman's response. I mean you no harm. I don't want to steal your pig or your horse, she said.I was curious to see who killed such a creature. Easier to kill sheep than pigs. And now that her curiosity was satisfied -- perhaps she should ride on? But no, her curiosity was not even close to satisfied. On the contrary, on seeing the fierce and feral-looking creature it was raised to new heights.

Dyrne seemed interested in the strange horse, though a light touch from her rider stilled the animal. Perhaps she ought to introduce herself -- but something held her back. The woman seemed as fierce as mama Siv was mystical and otherworldly. If she'd learned nothing else from her mother, Draugr had learned to recognize power in many of its forms. She saw it here, in the earthen-hued wolf's small and feminine features and her ability to nonetheless destroy a creature as strong and commanding of its own power as the mother sow. As with anything else, the red-brown hybrid wished to investigate to the fullest, and perhaps dissect it if possible. Only through careful study could she hope to adopt power of her own. Her body was not naturally strong, and she had not been so lucky to inherit the great size of her parents. Her mind was sharp, however, and it was through this Dra intended to find her way to the maximums of her abilities.

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#5
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(*blushes* I'm really glad I have her ^_^)

Sonje by Sie!


Sonje looked surprised at first, as if amazed she didn't have to fight for her meal, but her eyes suddenly resumed a hardened, mistrustful severity as she gazed between the tall sylph and her radiant chestnut mare. Her doggish tail curled slightly, fingers gripping the carcass unnecessarily hard as she silently tried to rally her thoughts into proper succession. A girl has to eat, she shrugged, clearly not a particularly picky eater. Besides.. hunting sheep is for the crippled and lame, she added a little defensively. She was obviously capable of fetching herself a meal far more feisty than a docile ewe—even though her proficient dispatch of the feral boar was a technique only just learned from the likes of hunting with Sepirah.

The smaller wolfdog relaxed slightly, leaning an elbow against the massive skull of her dead quarry and using her other hand to lightly trace its limp, bloodied ear, as if fond of it. Ever hunted the elk or muskox up North? she asked conversationally, however her desire to do as such was comparatively forced. I wish it was this easy. She rolled her eyes, landing them on Jagga who had shuffled slowly closer to get a better scent of the other horse. Her large, gray nostrils flared, ears switching back and forth curiously as she came to loom unassumingly next to Sonje. The Luperci reached up a slender hand and patted her friend's inclined neck, leaving a bloody smear there without care.

You wouldn't happen to have a bit of rope would you? she asked, finally standing and crossing her red hands lightly across her chest. If the female was going to linger, she might as well make herself useful—and Sonje was all about making her own life a little easier, even at the expense of others. Not that there was much for her visitor to do at the time. I just want to get ol' porky here up to the barn, she motioned over her shoulder to the rickety red-brown planks that had once made a very nice stable. You're welcome to join me if you're hungry. She wasn't sure where that offer had come from, and she was immediately furious with herself. Could she not do away with that pretty face?


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#6
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(678) Meeee tooo because you and this thread are making me want to Draugrbabble lots. 8D


Draugr is by Libri!

Draugr herself preferred that prey which was swift and fleet-footed. Salsola's lambs and sheep were not for the likes of her to slaughter, even as a Confidant. The rabbits were not so bad, but even then, Dra would work for her food more often than she picked an easy meal. Though the wolfdog considered herself a proficient hunter, there was always room for improvement, and she was still perfecting the techniques she'd learned to hunt and chase and tired out her prey. And yet even she tended to challenge creatures less dangerous than pigs and goats, elk and strong moose -- the swift doe and agile wild rabbit were her usual quarry.

Dra nodded her agreement, but was too polite to point out that the crippled and lame, too, needed to eat. They were entitled to try their hand at whatever meager scrapings they could chase after -- and this was most certainly more noble than relying upon the charity of others. If they could not so much as hold a slave in thrall to hunt if they themselves were incapable, these cripples of the world deserved a fate of starvation, as Draugr saw it. She did not, of course, consider that she might be lamed or crippled in some distant future, or even worse, her mother, but the idea tickled at her subconscious all the same, perhaps to emerge some date months later in contemplation, should the subject arise again.

Her ears pricked at the mention of the north and those wild creatures found therein. She shook her head wonderingly, and could only imagine. She knew the northern lands only through song and story -- her memory denied her the place her mother was born entirely. I haven't, she admitted. I came to this land with my mother, and I have not traveled. This wasn't entirely true -- she was traveling right now, actually, but Draugr considered the areas where her pack was still within five or six days' ride less travel and more a merry jaunt around the territories. But I hunt. Swift prey, she said, lacking in any boastfulness. She was sharing her preference, although with consideration, she was not certain why she was sharing anything at all with a virtual stranger.

My horse's lead rope, she said, offered. Perhaps it would do? It was sturdily made, a remnant of the Boreas wolves' equipment. If she broke it, too, there were more within Salsola. I wouldn't take too much of your bounty, but I'd join you. Thank you, she said. There was politeness within her, too -- while Dra was now ranked Confidant, and might lord herself over those of Salsola, this was an outsider. Outsiders were meant to be derided -- except where they might prove worthy of the thistle kingdom. And, certainly, this earthen-hued woman looked to be woman enough for Draugr's homeland. If she did other things as well as she seemed to hunt, too, the Dra might even prove herself a recruiter. A thin tendril of excitement wormed through her chest, for she understood this to be extremely useful in the eyes of the leadership ranks.

Once she'd dismounted, the hybrid pulled the rope from within her things. It was neatly coiled, and she undid the knot keeping it together with deft fingers. Dyrne began to move away, but as the knot fell apart, Dra grabbed ahold of her halter and led her forward. The warhorse stopped a good few feet from the pig, refusing to approach any further. Dra let her go, and the horse backed up a few paces. Satisfied the chestnut mare wasn't going to bolt, Dra turned and offered the rope to the woman. Will you smoke the meat for later? she asked. Such was common practice within Salsola -- and she herself had several well-salted, well-smoked strips of dried meat in her pack. She had subsisted on this for much of her journeying, for it was wasteful to spend time hunting when the purpose of her journey was scavenging.

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#7
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(Sorry for the wait, love! But I finally started a new position at my job, that will actually work with my school schedule instead of trying to screw me a hundred times over >.> FREE TIME AGAIN YAY! Oh! And Happy belated Birthday Big Grin)

Sonje by Sie!


Sonje would never be able to explain her immediate, superficial attraction to the young woman before her, but it was deep-rooted, like an itch she couldn't scratch. It were as if she were familiar to her, but couldn't remember who she was, where she had seen her, or who she might be reminding her of. The wolfdog shook away the feeling, keeping her eyes on the blood slicking her fingers and concentrating on the overwhelming tang of its scent. It filled her nostrils, her mouth, her brain, and its intoxication cited her hunger, which prevailed over anything else she thought she might have been feeling at the time. Being a loner, usually your main concern was your stomach.

Irritation clicked in the back of her head, as she usually didn't have to forcibly remind herself that she was hungry. She didn't like her attention being so easily taken, so she made it a point to remain as detached as possible—wondering now why it was an effort, when usually she had absolutely no trouble forgetting the face of another. Busying her hands on the dead pig (mostly brushing away larger pieces of rock and pebble lodged in its uncouth neck wound), she twitched a gold-laced ear, taking in the stranger's voice and nodded slightly. She wasn't familiar with the North, where warriors were raised, where it was kill or be killed and there was no other way. So then Sonje ruled out that she could have ever met this girl before. It was something else.

The loner had almost hoped that she would refuse her offer, regardless of the reason, but Sonje wasn't that lucky. She looked up again, but found she didn't have to force the smile that followed—it wasn't sweet, more like impish, but friendliness was applied. Or at least some degree of good-naturedness. She took the offered rope and slung it quickly around the wild one's head, making a secure loop into the horse's lead rope and making sure it was tight. It was a good strand and would quite effectively tow her quarry uphill. Thanks. Anyone who makes my job easier is welcome at my proverbial table, she said with a smirk, mounting Jagga effortlessly and spurring her with sharp heels towards the barn; her forearm kept strong as they slow-dragged "ol' porky" over yonder.

Smoke it? she echoed over her shoulder, glancing back and creasing her brows lightly. She'd tasted smoked meat before, loved it even, but she'd never taken the time to learn the proper practice herself; she only took it where she could find it. I've never smoked any of my meat before. Never took the time, she shrugged her thin shoulders. Feel like teaching me the practice? Again, she regretted asking almost as soon as she'd done it. This meant more time in her presence, possibly more time getting to know this young woman. She couldn't hope to escape this situation of her own devices because unconsciously, she obviously wanted to be around this girl.

Jagga tossed her head when they reached the barn door, half hanging from its rusted hinges, and Sonje dismounted to open them fully. She pushed them open, perhaps with more force than required, and they swung back with agonizing creaks. She picked up the rope again and dragged the pig to the middle of the place, kicking up dust and old twigs of hay amongst the stalls and support beams of the building. Jagga followed, going to sidle off to one side of the barn and throw furtive glances at the stranger's horse. Sonje stood up and stretched her overworked arm, the one that had been pulling the rope. She looked down, then back up at her "dinner" guest. Sorry to be so needy right now—do you have a knife? I'd planned on doing this old-school, but that would make my job much sweeter. She didn't actually mind mooching. Whatever it took to survive.


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#8
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412 No problem! I actually felt bad the last time I replied because it was like.. super fast. x_x It's never fun when you're trying to catch up and every time you post to a thread, another thread of yours gets a reply. XD Thanks for the birthday wishes and I hope the new job works out, man! Lack of flexibility is just.. awful. ;\ My old job was like -- "you have to show us your schedule and you can only have off when your classes are." Thankfully the policy was never acutally enforced; you could just say "yeah I have school" and no one questioned it. Which is good, because, y'know... school does sometimes require doing work/homework/studying/etc. outside of class. 8| Added that online classes aren't really scheduled at a particular time... fehhh.


Draugr is by me!

It wasn't quite a lack of perception that caused Draugr to miss signs of unfriendliness, nor was it indifference toward that unfriendliness. Had she realized her presence was unwanted, she might have retreated. Dra herself was not accustomed to excessive displays of friendliness, and perhaps simply assumed most others operated from this starting point. Had she less curiosity about the world and everything in it, the drab-hued might never have left her home, let alone Salsola. It was the insatiable curiousity that drove her out and into the world, though, and fueled her every interaction.

And -- even as she remained with the earthen-toned woman, there was an increase in friendliness from the other. A smile was offered, and Draugr returned it with more than perfunctorily. The hybrid offered a nod of her head in return,watching with sharply interested eyes as the woman quickly mounted her horse. There was effortless grace in her acquisition of a seat, and Dra trailed after her, glancing back toward Dyrne. The horse was watching, but as Dra motioned to her, the chestnut meandered away. She bent her head to graze once she'd taken a few steps away.

If you'd like. It is a good thing to know, smoking, Dra said. Shall I gather the wood? It will take a long time, though -- and it won't be as good as if we salted it first. Salt was the key in keeping so long -- neither salt or smoke preserved meat quite as well as both combined. Miqui had spoken of cooking apparatuses especially made to smoke meat, but Draugr did not presently possess one. She did not know, of course, that such were frequently found around farmhouses -- though the working condition of this particular farm's smokehouse might not be appropriate. For her part, Draugr was indifferent as to raw or cooked or smoked meat -- food was food. The best part of smoking was just how long the meat remained fresh and unspoiled. Flavor was of little consequence to the woody-hued canine.

The wolfdog shook her head apologetically, and then remembered. Oh! Yes. I found three in the city... but their condition is poor. I'll fetch the best, she said. Turning, the hybrid trotted back toward Dyrne, murmuring to the horse as she approached. The chestnut paid her little mind, though she flicked her tail as if shooing a fly. The hybrid fetched the least damaged of the knives and returned to the stranger, offering it hilt first.

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#9
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(That is exactly how my job was doing me! I swear I wanted to strangle my super every day he'd make me stay until I was pretty much late for school -_- I would have quit if the actual manager didn't finally get my plea through his thick head and changed me to a position that doesn't require nearly as many hours. I mean seriously, it wasn't that hard, my super just wanted to keep me because I was the best employee in his division. I laugh at him now he'll go back to missing tons of deadlines without me MWAHAHAHA ungrateful prick >.>)

Sonje by Sie!


The most disappointing thing about smoking the meat would be the length of time it would take to do so. Sonje was a gluttonous girl,overindulging when she could because she was a perpetually hungry individual. It never seemed sated, even when she couldn't take another bite—she always felt like there was room for more, even when there wasn't. This was perhaps due to the lack of luxury and safety in her life, where she'd always been forced to kill and eat as quickly as possible before having to move on (lest she be attacked). Similar to the darker young woman, taste wasn't ever Sonje's main concern, though she appreciated it where available. She nodded when asked if wood should be gathered, as Sonje would be a bit busy skinning and flaying chunks of the pig accordingly.

She paused, though, remembering the old knapsack hung at Jagga's neck that carried but a few tattered supplies (the only ones she had at the time—minus the dagger she'd lost several weeks before) that were: a brush, a holey quilt, flint and three jars, each filled with a different spice. She licked her bloody fingers absently, presumably for the taste, but it slated the angry growls in her stomach as well. When her guest went to fetch a knife, she hopped up at well, rummaging beside her mare in the hanging pack. "Aha!" she exclaimed just as she was returning, and she came from Jagga side, holding a jar in each hand. "Sea salt," she lifted the jar with large white granules, less than half full; "and seasoning," she lifted the second, a jar twice as full with green, red and brown particles, mainly looking to be crushed bay leaves. "I forget sometimes that I still have these—I don't have time to cook often." In fact, it had maybe been a month or more since she'd roasted anything over a fire.

Setting the jars next to the pig, she took the knife with a grateful nod and smile towards her helper, before sitting crosslegged before their meal. She began the swift, meticulous swipes of the good-enough knife, just beneath the coarse coat of the boar, applying appropriate strength to drag the slightly rusted blade through. It was tedious, and messy, but Sonje was quick, mostly quiet, even as her partner was gathering wood. "There's flint in my bag to start the fire, if you need," she offered, waving her towards Jagga, who was still standing nearby, but gazing outside to where the chestnut mare was just out of her sight. The hybrid wasn't particularly concerned with the woman taking anything, as there wasn't anything of particular value to the bag or its contents.

She continued to concentrate on her work, emptying her mind of the confusing thoughts about her guest, and her inexplicably "nice" nature towards her. Why no cutting remark had yet to fall from her usually sarcastic lips was a mystery to her. The pig's head was removed and set aside, along with the bloody length of lead rope that had been lent to her; and she continued skinning the rest of it. "I'm Sonje.. by the way," she added after a long bought of working in silence.


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#10
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-- People are so lacking in understanding with school. ._. IDK, I always worked in restaurants rather than an office-type job, so I'd always assumed the attitude was somewhat different elsewhere, but that sounds like a lot of bull I heard. People like, assuming you're working whatever job as a career and "you can't possibly have any other responsibilities!" ugh. Sad I felt that way too though quitting the aforementioned crap restaurant -- I was one of the first of MANY, and now that restaurant has terrible reviews food and service wise. 8D That is what you get when you treat your employees like crap... assuming there are other jobs to go around (which there weren't for a while there, sadly).

AND relevant threadbabble -- I can easily edit Dra's surname out of here, she provides/doesn't provide on whim. ^^ Just figured it would be a neat GASP! moment? PM and lemme know~


Draugr is by Haley!

Draugr was quick to move out of the barn, nabbing sticks here and there. As there was no one left to clean the debris away, it was a relatively easy task. A storm had brought down a tree limb in this summer or one before it. The hybrid worked to snap off smaller branches and had herself a suitable pile of firewood -- minus the logs -- after gathering for several minutes. As she headed back toward the barn, an armload of the sticks in her hand, she saw the earthen-hued woman beside her horse. For a moment -- and with surprising dismay -- Draugr thought the woman was abandoning her and leaving the kill behind simply to escape her presence. It was a jarring moment for Draugr, who was for at least a few seconds acutely aware of her presumed strangeness.

Her worry was for nothing, however, for the wolf stepped back out from behind her horse, holding something in both hands. Draugr peered curiously toward them and then met gazes when her companion spoke. The woman's pale yellow eyes were familiar, in a distant way. She smiled broadly, the tip of her tail wavering in the air. Excellent, she said, smiling. Already, there was a distinctive twinge of hunger in her belly. Dra piled the firewood and went to seek more. When she returned, the earthen-hued wolf spoke of a flint, and the wolfdog nodded. Their supply of firewood might need to be replenished, but it was certainly a start.

Though it felt strange rifling through another canine's things, the flint was blessedly easy to find, and she needn't dig through it long. Thanks, she said, settling down on her knees to start the fire. She pulled sticks into a rudimentary circle. She worked over the flint and struggled to find a spark with the second rusty knife, but eventually did so and had a small, smoky fire going when she glanced up to see the pig was soundly decapitated. Draugr Helsi. You work quickly, the wolfdog observed, nodding toward the head.

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