Fading like a flower

Isabella Heiwa · 01-01-2012, 05:45 AM

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Word Count ► 874

Isabella was curled up into a tight ball in her den despite how rather roomy it was inside. There was a solid stone wall to her back, but it was covered with soft moss. It was cold against her pelt, but she could only faintly feel the chill. Her lucious thick fur was a gift from her dog heritage. The dog breeds that defined her blood were of thicker stuff, made for winter snow and the hunt for game. Part of her blood was for herding those livestocks that the humans had kept for fleece and meat. This past was entirely unknown to her, as well as the names of the dog blood in her veins. All she knew was that she had to thank that heritage for her ability to brave winters, when half of her was not entirely well-built for freezing weather. Northern coyotes adapted well to the winters but they were not nearly as thick pelted as a wolf was. Thankfully, it seemed like no southern coyote genes played with her features, lucious and thick as her fur was this winter. It had been thickening as it grew colder, despite the abnormally warm winter they had thus far.

The entrance to her den, a wide hole supported by old walls, was covered with a thick cloth tautly secured to keep the wind and weather out of the warm den. It was dark, unfortunately, and Isabella had not had time to figure out a way to incorperate a light bearing, heat giving crude fireplace. Ideas she had but time and ability she did not. There would be time later to expand her den and the small corner of ruin she had taken as her own. It was still not homey and did not yet suit her tastes. Thankfully, the time she had put in with a communal slave to expand the den had been worth the effort. The den was now tall enough for a woman of her size to hunch over in it, but sit comfortably. Without her usual supply of fur coverings and padding, sleeping was for her four legged form so her body heat would stay at her core. But when she had the small fire hole built and more luxurious pelts, her full form could spread out in her home. For now, she made do.

Shuddering, her body uncoiled, tail slipping back as her body slithered toward the exit to her home. Isabella's back grazed the cloth as it fell back into place over the hole in the ground. A small low wall of stone divided the den's entrance from the rest of the corner. Body shuddering again, the woman thought about changing her form to the one she enjoyed most. Sultry curves and flexiblity made her life a wonderful thing, significantly easier. Yet the rumble in her stomach made her pause, as she inspected her surroundings. The fire pit was cold, the embers day old. There was no meat to be found here for she did not store it. Her last meal had been a hare with more fur than he knew what to do with. That pelt was drying in an alcove, something the woman was no good at but hoped to at least get a few soft additions to her den. Regardless, she would have to hunt.

Bi-colored eyes gazed at the empty metal pot, smelling the faint oder of meat but it was from the last meal, long since washed clean. Perhaps another hare if she could find it. Slipped away from the ruins, the woman hunted between trees, her dark colorings blending against the dark tones of pine trees and the lighter browns of deciduous trees. Leaves had fallen though this far north evergreen swere prevelant as well. A dart of brown caught her eye, and the gypsy woman followed it slowly. Her quick wit and herd dog instincts told her how to back the hare into a tight corner. After a few maneuvers, the woman managed to get the hair stuck at a rock pile. With a quick snap, the hare was squirming in her jaws. With a crunch, the spine broke and the creature's movement ceased. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth though it was only on her tongue for the most part. Terribly self satisfied, she turned back to the ruins in an easy jog.

A whine pierced the silence and the woman stopped in her tracks. Tall black ears twisted to find the source, and the woman turned in the direction of the sound even as it faded away. Hare still in her jaws, Isabella saw another member of the Thistle Kingdom curled up beneath a green pine. Cocking her head, the gypsy woman came close, dropping the hare to the ground with a soft thump and wide jaws. "Is something wrong?" she asked the woman before her, bi-colored eyes glancing over the unknown stranger. She had seen her at the Last Supper but had no idea as to her name. She was not one of the exalted at the dinner, though she seemed terribly pained now. "Are you alright?" Her concern was partially feigned, but the respectful tone was not.

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