03-12-2009, 11:53 AM
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That’s okay! And yeah, the coyote thread was about two weeks ago, ^=^ And Cwmfen is in her optime form, ^=^
700+
The morning came gradually with the sun. He grasped the world in his golden rays as he rose to mount the earth. His movements were slow and unhurried, but his light brought a small measure of warmth upon the lands. His soft and gentle touch woke the warrior from her sleep. She awoke slowly, stretching carefully as she did so. But her mind was already alert. She dreamt of crows and ravens the colour of the moon and shadows. They wore their colours like the Raven did, like her father did. And they flew in a flourishing murder, cawing and laughing in their empty way. Even as they flew away, they flew near swallowing her, smothering her with their thick black feathers and unforgiving claws. And all she could do is watch and accept their touch as the sound of her father’s laughter echoed in her ears, echoing even as she woke, but fading as the sun chased the shades of night away once more. The warrior was quite still in her contemplation, but at last she rose slowly, working the stiffness of the cold from her limbs.
She had slept outside of her den near the entrance for the girl Svara now dwelt there healing, but never to heal and regain her sight. The black fae had offered her home to the girl as she healed, knowing that she would wish to be alone. And her den had few visitors and was nestled in the embrace of the tree where one could sleep in the dark earth. The warrior thought she slept there now, but couldn’t be sure. But in any case, the blinded girl was not completely helpless even without her sight whether she knew that or not. It was best to learn this first on her own before the female would interject with the patience of her own martial training. The white orbs looked down at the black mouth of her den before she turned, grasping her Raven Spear and setting out with pied Raven having lifted himself from the branches of the tree. He called quietly to her with his ambiguous voice and she looked up to acknowledge him with equal ambiguity. As time progressed, it seemed that the Raven grew distant from her, and often she questioned whether it was the epitome of her Dream. It was strange to think that he was not, for she had bound him to her by wearing his feather upon her Spear and within her hair, dipped in red for the blood of war. And yet, she could not shake that feeling.
The woad warrior’s progress was slow, at an unhurried amble where it would have been a brusque trot. But her movements were easier and her speed greater than in the days prior. And, having noted her own progress, the woad warrior was content. Her tranquility, however, had never seemed unfazed. Only those that had seen her as the waves of pain had become unbearable saw the cracks in her resolve. Yet now the invisible bruising of her body and the soreness of her overstrained muscles had nearly dissipated. Only the gentle tugging and warning of her scars remained, but their deep cuts would be slower to heal. The woad marked fae had already tried to shift down to lupus form once, and that attempt had only re-opened the wounds. But she would be patient now. And for now, she would be content with her slow progress.
As the warrior traveled near the eastern half of Dahlia’s boarders, she saw another in the distance. The female’s scent was brought to her by the biting breath of dying winter, and she recognized it from the pack meeting. It belonged to a female with a black coat tinted with the sun’s red, and as the warrior neared, she saw and remembered that the other female carried beautiful violet eyes. A light smile graced the warrior’s maw. Though she had not met this violet eyed female, from a distance she had seemed like a strong personality. Perhaps today she would acquaint herself with another packmate. But as she neared, it seemed as if there were some urgency to the traveling female, and she wondered to where the traveling would take her. The warrior paused as she called out, “Where is the wind taking you this day?” and her alto melody rose easily with gold and silver tones upon the soft breeze.
700+
The morning came gradually with the sun. He grasped the world in his golden rays as he rose to mount the earth. His movements were slow and unhurried, but his light brought a small measure of warmth upon the lands. His soft and gentle touch woke the warrior from her sleep. She awoke slowly, stretching carefully as she did so. But her mind was already alert. She dreamt of crows and ravens the colour of the moon and shadows. They wore their colours like the Raven did, like her father did. And they flew in a flourishing murder, cawing and laughing in their empty way. Even as they flew away, they flew near swallowing her, smothering her with their thick black feathers and unforgiving claws. And all she could do is watch and accept their touch as the sound of her father’s laughter echoed in her ears, echoing even as she woke, but fading as the sun chased the shades of night away once more. The warrior was quite still in her contemplation, but at last she rose slowly, working the stiffness of the cold from her limbs.
She had slept outside of her den near the entrance for the girl Svara now dwelt there healing, but never to heal and regain her sight. The black fae had offered her home to the girl as she healed, knowing that she would wish to be alone. And her den had few visitors and was nestled in the embrace of the tree where one could sleep in the dark earth. The warrior thought she slept there now, but couldn’t be sure. But in any case, the blinded girl was not completely helpless even without her sight whether she knew that or not. It was best to learn this first on her own before the female would interject with the patience of her own martial training. The white orbs looked down at the black mouth of her den before she turned, grasping her Raven Spear and setting out with pied Raven having lifted himself from the branches of the tree. He called quietly to her with his ambiguous voice and she looked up to acknowledge him with equal ambiguity. As time progressed, it seemed that the Raven grew distant from her, and often she questioned whether it was the epitome of her Dream. It was strange to think that he was not, for she had bound him to her by wearing his feather upon her Spear and within her hair, dipped in red for the blood of war. And yet, she could not shake that feeling.
The woad warrior’s progress was slow, at an unhurried amble where it would have been a brusque trot. But her movements were easier and her speed greater than in the days prior. And, having noted her own progress, the woad warrior was content. Her tranquility, however, had never seemed unfazed. Only those that had seen her as the waves of pain had become unbearable saw the cracks in her resolve. Yet now the invisible bruising of her body and the soreness of her overstrained muscles had nearly dissipated. Only the gentle tugging and warning of her scars remained, but their deep cuts would be slower to heal. The woad marked fae had already tried to shift down to lupus form once, and that attempt had only re-opened the wounds. But she would be patient now. And for now, she would be content with her slow progress.
As the warrior traveled near the eastern half of Dahlia’s boarders, she saw another in the distance. The female’s scent was brought to her by the biting breath of dying winter, and she recognized it from the pack meeting. It belonged to a female with a black coat tinted with the sun’s red, and as the warrior neared, she saw and remembered that the other female carried beautiful violet eyes. A light smile graced the warrior’s maw. Though she had not met this violet eyed female, from a distance she had seemed like a strong personality. Perhaps today she would acquaint herself with another packmate. But as she neared, it seemed as if there were some urgency to the traveling female, and she wondered to where the traveling would take her. The warrior paused as she called out, “Where is the wind taking you this day?” and her alto melody rose easily with gold and silver tones upon the soft breeze.