03-05-2012, 12:20 PM
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((OOC: Hope this is okay. Setting is dampwoods, somewhere between the Inferni and Anathema territories.))
They said the best time to cut down a tree is in the winter time. Alma wasn't sure if that old advice was true or not, but she found herself doing much of it this winter. It wasn't entirely born out of a desire to make bows, or help her clan. No, the compulsion was caused by something much more bizarre: the little ball of white something that appeared when she did so. It seldom appeared in anything but the corner of her eye, and disappeared when she turned to look at it. No one else appeared to notice it. For these reasons, the coyote had at first assumed it was all in her head.
After more than a month of bow-crafting, it was now appearing so often that she couldn't deny that it existed. Sometimes, if she turned her head just right, she could see it before it disappeared.
It was in the corner of her eye now, while she was carrying an axe and sizing up trees - or rather, that was what she was supposed to be doing. She had wandered more than a mile just trying to catch a glimpse at it; very little attention was paid to her surroundings.
That is, until some new scent reached her nose - something or someone unfamiliar - that made her realize that she had wandered a little too far. The trees around her no longer looked familiar, and the deer path she'd been treading on had long since turned to grass and thick underbrush.
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They said the best time to cut down a tree is in the winter time. Alma wasn't sure if that old advice was true or not, but she found herself doing much of it this winter. It wasn't entirely born out of a desire to make bows, or help her clan. No, the compulsion was caused by something much more bizarre: the little ball of white something that appeared when she did so. It seldom appeared in anything but the corner of her eye, and disappeared when she turned to look at it. No one else appeared to notice it. For these reasons, the coyote had at first assumed it was all in her head.
After more than a month of bow-crafting, it was now appearing so often that she couldn't deny that it existed. Sometimes, if she turned her head just right, she could see it before it disappeared.
It was in the corner of her eye now, while she was carrying an axe and sizing up trees - or rather, that was what she was supposed to be doing. She had wandered more than a mile just trying to catch a glimpse at it; very little attention was paid to her surroundings.
That is, until some new scent reached her nose - something or someone unfamiliar - that made her realize that she had wandered a little too far. The trees around her no longer looked familiar, and the deer path she'd been treading on had long since turned to grass and thick underbrush.
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