table © Alaine
ooc: if it's alright, this thread is taking place in the forest just beyond halifax :3 mel, i trust that you can jump in whenever you see fit.
i actually didn't come up with the name for this until after i re-read my post; alaine is little red riding hood, and haku is totally the big bad wolf. does that make gabe the huntsman? XP
The light that filtered through the overhanging canopy of dead, twisted fingers was pale and weak. This winter had been long and cruel, and the foliage had gone deep into the self-preserving slumber that would allow it to survive another season. The forest was silent, as if holding it's breath; Not a bird trilled, not a humble creature stirred. Then, parting the stillness like a siren amongst the trees, came a figure.
A bright, rusty blood-red cape was donned over slender shoulders, its hood pulled up to cast shadow over gentle, beautiful features. The figure was unmistakably female, her soft curves just now filling out with the flesh she had lost the season before. From the Shea came a soft warble of music, and though the forest remained a bleak shell around her, it seemed obvious that Alaine saw only the beauty in this desolation. For the dexterous eye could now spot signs of hope - Beneath rotting logs sprouted soft tendrils of ivy-green creepers, their gentle violet buds just beginning to sprout. And there, in a corner, a clump of wild mushroom, perfect for drying into a powder that could ease pain. The collie-woman knew all this and more, and the soft lilt of her hum was a happy, serendipitous sound. Slender fingers plucked the saplings and 'shrooms from the soft earth and tucked them away in the leather satchel that hung over one shoulder so that the strap crossed over between her breasts. The relatively small bag was a pleasant weight at her hip, gradually filling with the fresh ingredients her stores had been depleted of during the bitter winter.
She was careless. Weeks of safety had lulled the young woman into a false sense of security, and she stepped lively without care for where each footpaw fell. So, too, had she wandered from the border; the sweet honeysuckle grew thicker over here, where no pack claimed the land as their own.
A sudden sound made her freeze. Sharp emerald eyes, such a blinding contrast to the ocher and sepia hues of the world around her, widened as a minute tingle of that old premonition slid ice-cold fingers beneath her skin. A deer bounded through the brush, its slender frame as delicate as the thrumming of Alaine's heart as it fled, all innate grace, from some imaginary predator. The world fell silent once more as it departed from view. The Optime lady straightened slowly, brushing the dirt from her silky cream-and-ivory fur on which she had been crouching. She stood still a moment longer, and then finally tipped away the blood-red hood so as to get a better view of the tall pines around her. Glorious coppery curls spilled from beneath the worn material in rogue abandon, dancing in merry ringlets against the pale hue of her features.
Speak think walk
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