12-10-2007, 02:30 AM
[html]mall-caps;">this table was touched by Misery
Sitting with her fail neatly tucked around her legs she watched the snow falling from her secret, hidden den. She, to her knowledge, was left there alone since only Josiah knew it's whereabouts anymore. Most of the family that knew where it was hardly cared or seemed to be around enough to matter. It was from that rocky ledge that she caught sight of the dark figure walking through the packlands. There was a heavy aura around the figure, the head down, dejected steps seemed to suggest this was not a casual stroll of pleasure, but a walk of both thought and measure. Slowly, carefully she maneuvered her body in almost cat like fashion, her legs carefully taking her down towards the dark figure.
from her vantage point it was hard to assume gender. Yes, a slender body might suggest a female owner, but what of the neat and compact male? Fatin knew within moments of the identity and gender of the creature as she neared the form, knowing at once it was Phasma Kile's body and Phasma Kile's scent she had been trailing. "Child, what is it?" She murmured softly, eyes drinking in all that she could. A longing in her, one she had not known in ages, welled up inside her breast: her first instinct was pain. She wanted to deliver it. Perhaps incorrectly she assumed that a pain had been dealt to Phasma, but how in the world was she to know just how accurate she was?
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Sitting with her fail neatly tucked around her legs she watched the snow falling from her secret, hidden den. She, to her knowledge, was left there alone since only Josiah knew it's whereabouts anymore. Most of the family that knew where it was hardly cared or seemed to be around enough to matter. It was from that rocky ledge that she caught sight of the dark figure walking through the packlands. There was a heavy aura around the figure, the head down, dejected steps seemed to suggest this was not a casual stroll of pleasure, but a walk of both thought and measure. Slowly, carefully she maneuvered her body in almost cat like fashion, her legs carefully taking her down towards the dark figure.
from her vantage point it was hard to assume gender. Yes, a slender body might suggest a female owner, but what of the neat and compact male? Fatin knew within moments of the identity and gender of the creature as she neared the form, knowing at once it was Phasma Kile's body and Phasma Kile's scent she had been trailing. "Child, what is it?" She murmured softly, eyes drinking in all that she could. A longing in her, one she had not known in ages, welled up inside her breast: her first instinct was pain. She wanted to deliver it. Perhaps incorrectly she assumed that a pain had been dealt to Phasma, but how in the world was she to know just how accurate she was?