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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
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Is it alright with you if we back date this to June 22 or 23? 300+
Scorpius wasn’t a very big fan of leaving the boundaries of Anathema ever since his return to the pack, but sometimes it could not be avoided. He knew the forests could provide better kindling than the area surrounding his home, and he did not want to risk over-harvesting his homeland. He was only experimenting, after all, so he did not want to deplete the pack’s natural resources by using them on his tests. So, all things considered, Scorpius found himself traipsing through the Dampwoods, away from the protective confines of the Anathema cover.
He carried with him a satchel and two bags attached to his heavy leather belt. The bags appeared to have a few items in them whilst the bag seemed to be relatively empty. He made little noise as he moved through the woods, except for the occasional rustling of the bags. He was not hunting anything today so stealth was not at the forefront of his mind, though he did his best to not attract extra unwanted attention, too.
The Dampwoods were damn damp, so it wasn’t exactly an ideal place to collect kindling. But the ground was carpeted with pine needles and the area was ripe with shrubbery that could be laid out in the sun to dry out perfectly within a few weeks. Coming up to a thicket of brush, he knelt down and began collecting sparse twigs and brushwood that could be made into proper kindling. He gathered from this spot for a while, collecting bundles and stuffing them into the satchel that he brought with him. Sometimes he chose to bundle together bunches of twigs with twine, before he secreted it away into his pack. After an hour he had wandered considerably from his original collection site, and now his bag was too full to fit anything else.
Not a bad day of harvesting, for sure. The sun was low in the sky at this point and he decided to make his way back. As he traversed the woods the sound of a babbling brook caught his attention, so he took a detour toward the stream. Could do for a drink, he figured. When he arrived he knelt by the stream, setting his bags down by a rock, and lapped at the cool, refreshing water.
Photo courtesy of Alessandro Pinna
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