03-29-2010, 09:01 PM
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OOC Notes:
Wc: 355
It was simple - she had turned into no more than a neophyte, just stepping onto the field for her first hunt. Feeling the crimson heat creep up from just beneath her fur, Ghita let the embarrassment sweep over her, the mortification causing her to remain still with her muzzle pressed into the snow. Keeping her turquoise optics closed, the fae allowed herself to wallow in her self-pity for a few moments longer, before she heard the pawsteps approach her from her left side.
At Flayra's concern, Ghita only let out a small grunt, raising what would be an eyebrow as she did. "I think it's 'Shit' in this language, am I right?" A meager attempt at some humor, the fae remained there, letting the bruised side of her body enjoy the coolness of the snow before struggling to her paws to face her companion.
But the struggle was harder than she'd expected. The once dignified lady had disgraced herself in front of a packmate, doing what she should be able to do best - hunt. And the failure wasn't a subtle one either, one that someone could pass of as a bad day for hunting, or a lucky getaway; No. This one was horrific in nature, the old hat at hunting being made a novice in the eyes of Flayra. Any and every other day Ghita would've hung on for a little bit longer, fought a little bit harder, but today the hoof had managed to connect right on her chest and shoulder, creating a short but deep gash that was bleeding profusely.
Nodding once at her companion, she tried to brush off the injury as a light scratch, nothing that hurt her very much. But this was a killer; the hoof had ended up digging into her skin and almost to the bone, affecting the way her leg moved. Mainly, it caused a lot of pain. Shaking her head around, and body (what she could without wincing), the ivory snowdrops flew off of her for the most part, pockmarking the unmarked snow around them. "Yeah, I'm okay. Perhaps we call it a day?"
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OOC Notes:
Wc: 355
It was simple - she had turned into no more than a neophyte, just stepping onto the field for her first hunt. Feeling the crimson heat creep up from just beneath her fur, Ghita let the embarrassment sweep over her, the mortification causing her to remain still with her muzzle pressed into the snow. Keeping her turquoise optics closed, the fae allowed herself to wallow in her self-pity for a few moments longer, before she heard the pawsteps approach her from her left side.
At Flayra's concern, Ghita only let out a small grunt, raising what would be an eyebrow as she did. "I think it's 'Shit' in this language, am I right?" A meager attempt at some humor, the fae remained there, letting the bruised side of her body enjoy the coolness of the snow before struggling to her paws to face her companion.
But the struggle was harder than she'd expected. The once dignified lady had disgraced herself in front of a packmate, doing what she should be able to do best - hunt. And the failure wasn't a subtle one either, one that someone could pass of as a bad day for hunting, or a lucky getaway; No. This one was horrific in nature, the old hat at hunting being made a novice in the eyes of Flayra. Any and every other day Ghita would've hung on for a little bit longer, fought a little bit harder, but today the hoof had managed to connect right on her chest and shoulder, creating a short but deep gash that was bleeding profusely.
Nodding once at her companion, she tried to brush off the injury as a light scratch, nothing that hurt her very much. But this was a killer; the hoof had ended up digging into her skin and almost to the bone, affecting the way her leg moved. Mainly, it caused a lot of pain. Shaking her head around, and body (what she could without wincing), the ivory snowdrops flew off of her for the most part, pockmarking the unmarked snow around them. "Yeah, I'm okay. Perhaps we call it a day?"