01-13-2009, 10:02 PM
I reckon Savina can jump in now.
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The stranger started humming as she carried him along and strangely enough, it soothed him. He was used to hearing humming from those in the house, sometimes from his mother, sometimes from someone else. It was a strange sound, that humming thing. He hadn't figured out how to do it yet, but none of that seemingly mattered when her steps slowed and he dared to open his eyes. They were wide for only a half second before squinting against the blinding snow and the icy bite of the wind, and eventually they went shut again.
And quite abruptly, he felt the chill of the damp ice on his already damp body. The edges of the lake were flimsy and wet to begin with, no doubt not made for a full grown wolf (or werewolf) to stand on. But for a puppy who was no more bigger or smaller than a generously-sized bag of sugar, it put up with him. It put up with him as he was pushed out across it, his body coiled so tightly that he moved easily. He didn't even try to stop where he was going because Salem knew about ice — it simply didn't let anyone do what they wanted to do. If he wanted to walk, he'd surely fall flat on his face. Her voice faded just as quickly as it came and by the time he looked up at the world around him, she was gone. It was as though she had never been there in the first place.
He was somewhere between the edge of the lake and the middle, not totally sure exactly he was. He had never seen this part of the lake and anything that was usually distinguishable from its shores wasn't for the tall snow around it. It was a futile attempt to try and stand, but he tried to anyway, shivering and all. By the third time he had fallen, he simply started to cry again. The cold stung, the wind burned, and most of all he just wanted to be somewhere warm.
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The stranger started humming as she carried him along and strangely enough, it soothed him. He was used to hearing humming from those in the house, sometimes from his mother, sometimes from someone else. It was a strange sound, that humming thing. He hadn't figured out how to do it yet, but none of that seemingly mattered when her steps slowed and he dared to open his eyes. They were wide for only a half second before squinting against the blinding snow and the icy bite of the wind, and eventually they went shut again.
And quite abruptly, he felt the chill of the damp ice on his already damp body. The edges of the lake were flimsy and wet to begin with, no doubt not made for a full grown wolf (or werewolf) to stand on. But for a puppy who was no more bigger or smaller than a generously-sized bag of sugar, it put up with him. It put up with him as he was pushed out across it, his body coiled so tightly that he moved easily. He didn't even try to stop where he was going because Salem knew about ice — it simply didn't let anyone do what they wanted to do. If he wanted to walk, he'd surely fall flat on his face. Her voice faded just as quickly as it came and by the time he looked up at the world around him, she was gone. It was as though she had never been there in the first place.
He was somewhere between the edge of the lake and the middle, not totally sure exactly he was. He had never seen this part of the lake and anything that was usually distinguishable from its shores wasn't for the tall snow around it. It was a futile attempt to try and stand, but he tried to anyway, shivering and all. By the third time he had fallen, he simply started to cry again. The cold stung, the wind burned, and most of all he just wanted to be somewhere warm.