10-08-2012, 01:41 AM
It was fall in the mountains.
Colorful leaves were carried by the lovely crisp autumn breeze across the worn trails. The forest was thick with sunset-hued debri, the smell of rotting vegetation hung in the air. It was not an unpleasant scent, one that warned of cool mornings and chilly nights. Under a large maple tree rested a dusk-colored coyote, her pelt riddled with dark points and lighter undersides. Her mismatched eyes were closed as she dozed, the vibrant violet and fushia colors muted by cream eyelids. The girl had inherited the differing hues from her mother, a sunshild by trait. She had earned the dark points from her coal pelted father, but carried neithers hair color. It was reverse ombre, a lighter, mousier brown at her roots which eventually stained into a darker grey-brown color at it’s tips.
Her mother had been a bright, happy soul. Her life hadn’t been easy, but her green and blue eyes saw what was right with the world and made light of the darkness in others souls. Emmanuelle hadn’t been a Nova Scotia native, and it was a different area from what she had been used too. The landscape had beaten her, the wolves wounded her, and another raped her whilst she had been pregnant with Nevada and her brothers. The wheat-coated coyote had never told her about the man that had sired her, and Nevada had been curious since she had been a puppy about the shade that was her father. Her mother, a broken spirit, had ran away from Inferni and had squirreled her pups away in a secretive den far away from the well-travelled paths of the trading routes. They had been alone since birth, until a Golden Eagle had attacked her brothers and killed both of them at four months of age.
The seal-pointed woman was the only one left, her mother succumbing to her depression and emotional scars. Emmanuelle had simply died in her sleep, a small, sad expression on her golden features. The sun, the light in Nevada’s life had been extinguished at 7 months of age, and now here she was. The girl had remained in the shadows thus far, only travelling at night and resting at secret locations during the day. Slowly but surely she was making her way to the well-known coyote pack and there she would finally find the man that was her father. A light sigh escaped her coffee colored muzzle and she stirred, finally waking. It was morning, the girl changing her sleeping patterns to adjust with how close she was becoming to the pack. She picked herself up and brushed the leaves from her plush, downy pelt and looked around brightly. It was time.
Colorful leaves were carried by the lovely crisp autumn breeze across the worn trails. The forest was thick with sunset-hued debri, the smell of rotting vegetation hung in the air. It was not an unpleasant scent, one that warned of cool mornings and chilly nights. Under a large maple tree rested a dusk-colored coyote, her pelt riddled with dark points and lighter undersides. Her mismatched eyes were closed as she dozed, the vibrant violet and fushia colors muted by cream eyelids. The girl had inherited the differing hues from her mother, a sunshild by trait. She had earned the dark points from her coal pelted father, but carried neithers hair color. It was reverse ombre, a lighter, mousier brown at her roots which eventually stained into a darker grey-brown color at it’s tips.
Her mother had been a bright, happy soul. Her life hadn’t been easy, but her green and blue eyes saw what was right with the world and made light of the darkness in others souls. Emmanuelle hadn’t been a Nova Scotia native, and it was a different area from what she had been used too. The landscape had beaten her, the wolves wounded her, and another raped her whilst she had been pregnant with Nevada and her brothers. The wheat-coated coyote had never told her about the man that had sired her, and Nevada had been curious since she had been a puppy about the shade that was her father. Her mother, a broken spirit, had ran away from Inferni and had squirreled her pups away in a secretive den far away from the well-travelled paths of the trading routes. They had been alone since birth, until a Golden Eagle had attacked her brothers and killed both of them at four months of age.
The seal-pointed woman was the only one left, her mother succumbing to her depression and emotional scars. Emmanuelle had simply died in her sleep, a small, sad expression on her golden features. The sun, the light in Nevada’s life had been extinguished at 7 months of age, and now here she was. The girl had remained in the shadows thus far, only travelling at night and resting at secret locations during the day. Slowly but surely she was making her way to the well-known coyote pack and there she would finally find the man that was her father. A light sigh escaped her coffee colored muzzle and she stirred, finally waking. It was morning, the girl changing her sleeping patterns to adjust with how close she was becoming to the pack. She picked herself up and brushed the leaves from her plush, downy pelt and looked around brightly. It was time.