04-22-2009, 06:02 PM
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500+
The white orbs watched quietly as the dog-like male worked upon the unconscious boy. There was a certain amount of curiosity as she wondered if that was what the black, blue eyed wolf had done to her. She had learned very little of the healing arts and she knew that she should have been more familiar with such things. But she had begun her life quite alone, learning only a little from her mother and the crow wolf before she had escaped into that world of solitude. The herbs she knew how to use she had seen used by others, and memorizing the scent of each plant she had learned to apply them to herself; of course, it had been a difficult thing for the female to do as she had not been aware of her ability to shift, and often she had resorted to limping on or stopping until the wounds, usually relatively superficial, had healed. But the man’s hands were steady and certain, knowing what it was that was being done and what must be done. And so she simply watched, hoping to take away from this experience what she could.
The woad bound ears flickered as he spoke and her eyes lifted to gaze upon the back of his head. For a moment she was silent, unable to recognize the implication of the clan member’s inquiry. "We were practicing—the arts of war," the alto melody clarified immediately. "We have met regularly for such practices since a moon ago," she estimated. "From the moment I met him, I recognized great potential not only in his physical endeavors, but his mental endeavors as well." The warrior felt suddenly that she had to explain to this male if not because he demanded to know then to simply elaborate upon the question that implied that the golden boy had not informed others of his pack. Of course, she herself had not informed her pack members, but such things had never emerged within conversation. Perhaps the same case had been that of the boy.
Cwmfen’s eyes shifted momentarily to the coal black Raven, transfixed by the bird’s image. Deep within, the woad warrior was on edge, for she had never expected to find her father. She thought that she could hear the pied Raven of her Dreams calling from with out, but she was unsure whether that sound had been real or merely the echo of her Dreaming. And the warrior could not explain the fear that she felt for the Korean, for she felt that such a fear should be absent; she feared very little, and she feared nothing in the way she feared her father. Quietly, the woman took a quiet breath, momentarily sending her fears away as she took a step closer, he gaze shifting to the boy and to the hands of the man that worked. "How is he?" The alto melody was quiet so as to not disturb the man’s concentration. They shifted slowly to the man’s face, wondering quietly of this man’s history and identity but too reserved and respectful to delve into such topics with the male who held himself so highly.
500+
The white orbs watched quietly as the dog-like male worked upon the unconscious boy. There was a certain amount of curiosity as she wondered if that was what the black, blue eyed wolf had done to her. She had learned very little of the healing arts and she knew that she should have been more familiar with such things. But she had begun her life quite alone, learning only a little from her mother and the crow wolf before she had escaped into that world of solitude. The herbs she knew how to use she had seen used by others, and memorizing the scent of each plant she had learned to apply them to herself; of course, it had been a difficult thing for the female to do as she had not been aware of her ability to shift, and often she had resorted to limping on or stopping until the wounds, usually relatively superficial, had healed. But the man’s hands were steady and certain, knowing what it was that was being done and what must be done. And so she simply watched, hoping to take away from this experience what she could.
The woad bound ears flickered as he spoke and her eyes lifted to gaze upon the back of his head. For a moment she was silent, unable to recognize the implication of the clan member’s inquiry. "We were practicing—the arts of war," the alto melody clarified immediately. "We have met regularly for such practices since a moon ago," she estimated. "From the moment I met him, I recognized great potential not only in his physical endeavors, but his mental endeavors as well." The warrior felt suddenly that she had to explain to this male if not because he demanded to know then to simply elaborate upon the question that implied that the golden boy had not informed others of his pack. Of course, she herself had not informed her pack members, but such things had never emerged within conversation. Perhaps the same case had been that of the boy.
Cwmfen’s eyes shifted momentarily to the coal black Raven, transfixed by the bird’s image. Deep within, the woad warrior was on edge, for she had never expected to find her father. She thought that she could hear the pied Raven of her Dreams calling from with out, but she was unsure whether that sound had been real or merely the echo of her Dreaming. And the warrior could not explain the fear that she felt for the Korean, for she felt that such a fear should be absent; she feared very little, and she feared nothing in the way she feared her father. Quietly, the woman took a quiet breath, momentarily sending her fears away as she took a step closer, he gaze shifting to the boy and to the hands of the man that worked. "How is he?" The alto melody was quiet so as to not disturb the man’s concentration. They shifted slowly to the man’s face, wondering quietly of this man’s history and identity but too reserved and respectful to delve into such topics with the male who held himself so highly.