02-06-2012, 12:09 PM
(OOC: Word Count - 536)
It had been a long seven months since Ciara's mother had perished, leaving her alone in the Labrador wilderness with no training and little knowledge on how to survive on her own. She had slowly traveled through the province, sticking to the coastline that connected the sparse province to the once flourishing adjacent province of Quebec. Spring had turned into summer, and she had taken her time picking through fields and forests, running from predators that might like to close their jaws on her small, yearling form. Rodents had been her source of nourishment for the most part, as she could crouch in the brush awaiting them, pouncing when it was just right to catch the squealing and thrashing being in her maw. She'd never been taught how to hunt anything else, and even though blood-bred instinct nudged her towards weakened deer and even a baby moose, she never had the nerve to go after them herself.
She spent her summer transitioning between Quebec and New Brunswick, thankful for the Maritime breeze coming off the Atlantic and scaring away the humid, sweltering inland heat. The scent of the ocean was familiar to her, and she let it carry her to the previous capital of New Brunswick, St. John. It was there that she crouched between borders, listening to the calls of far-off packs, excited at the sounds of her own kind. She would follow those calls, only to be chased away as a rogue, skinny and dirty with a gait clearly displaying her youth. Eventually, she came to the Isthmus connecting New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, far from her birthplace in Western Newfoundland.
Coming down the Isthmus, she arrived at the borders of the Northern packs, delicately sniffing at each scent mark. One smelled strongly of coyote, and she let out an indignant huff at that realization. Coyotes had been her nemeses during her long travels, seven months of fighting with them for rodents and dens alike. She moved away from that scent-line. She came to a few more, their scents strong and powerful, but they just didn't smell...right, to her. She could taste the mixing of species on her tongue and the thought of dealing with hybrids other than wolves, even though they were canines, made her uneasy.
At long last she came to a scent-mark that she seemed to like. It smelled both powerful and somehow welcoming. Unsure of the proper custom, she was about to lift a small paw over the line when something made her sit right back in the snow. Her thick, multi-faceted coat ruffled against the wind, undoubtedly carrying her scent to the members of this pack. If she crossed into their territory, they would no doubt learn of it in an instant.
Once again, instinct was her saving grace. She lifted her head, pointing her nose at the nearly full moon above her, and let out an unpracticed and uncertain howl. Even though she had never had much cause for howling, the melody was at once wavering and loud, carrying her request for friendship and family on the wind and towards the den of the New Dawn wolves.
All she could do now was wait, and pray for acceptance...
It had been a long seven months since Ciara's mother had perished, leaving her alone in the Labrador wilderness with no training and little knowledge on how to survive on her own. She had slowly traveled through the province, sticking to the coastline that connected the sparse province to the once flourishing adjacent province of Quebec. Spring had turned into summer, and she had taken her time picking through fields and forests, running from predators that might like to close their jaws on her small, yearling form. Rodents had been her source of nourishment for the most part, as she could crouch in the brush awaiting them, pouncing when it was just right to catch the squealing and thrashing being in her maw. She'd never been taught how to hunt anything else, and even though blood-bred instinct nudged her towards weakened deer and even a baby moose, she never had the nerve to go after them herself.
She spent her summer transitioning between Quebec and New Brunswick, thankful for the Maritime breeze coming off the Atlantic and scaring away the humid, sweltering inland heat. The scent of the ocean was familiar to her, and she let it carry her to the previous capital of New Brunswick, St. John. It was there that she crouched between borders, listening to the calls of far-off packs, excited at the sounds of her own kind. She would follow those calls, only to be chased away as a rogue, skinny and dirty with a gait clearly displaying her youth. Eventually, she came to the Isthmus connecting New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, far from her birthplace in Western Newfoundland.
Coming down the Isthmus, she arrived at the borders of the Northern packs, delicately sniffing at each scent mark. One smelled strongly of coyote, and she let out an indignant huff at that realization. Coyotes had been her nemeses during her long travels, seven months of fighting with them for rodents and dens alike. She moved away from that scent-line. She came to a few more, their scents strong and powerful, but they just didn't smell...right, to her. She could taste the mixing of species on her tongue and the thought of dealing with hybrids other than wolves, even though they were canines, made her uneasy.
At long last she came to a scent-mark that she seemed to like. It smelled both powerful and somehow welcoming. Unsure of the proper custom, she was about to lift a small paw over the line when something made her sit right back in the snow. Her thick, multi-faceted coat ruffled against the wind, undoubtedly carrying her scent to the members of this pack. If she crossed into their territory, they would no doubt learn of it in an instant.
Once again, instinct was her saving grace. She lifted her head, pointing her nose at the nearly full moon above her, and let out an unpracticed and uncertain howl. Even though she had never had much cause for howling, the melody was at once wavering and loud, carrying her request for friendship and family on the wind and towards the den of the New Dawn wolves.
All she could do now was wait, and pray for acceptance...