03-07-2009, 07:45 PM
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500+
Night fell slowly and gently, sighing as the last beams of the sun’s light fell beneath the horizon, submitting to the softer body of the night. Within the cloudless heavens shone a half-filled moon, an eye that illuminated with silver tones the darkened world beneath. There was no wind that moved through the lands, and the world was strangely still. But it was not a stillness that invoked a feeling of foreboding. It was a stillness that characterized the limbo between sleep and awake, a comfortable feeling that soothed and called for sleep.
But Cwmfen nic Graine resisted that urge. She had traveled from Dahlia once more, and with the wounds that bore her down, the effort had been long and slow. She had worked through her pain with gentle diligence. And the work that she was putting her body up against was apparent through the light perspiration that beaded her brow and dampened her coat in the cool night. But these days had been warmer than those days prior, and she was intent on keeping her body moving, if only through simple walking. There was a great unrest within the warrior, and it made her more aggressive than her usual tranquil self. She was frustrated by the wounds that she had received. And while she was holding a great dislike for the coyote brute that had attacked her, she was feeling a great shame for herself more keenly. She should have been careful. Should have been prepared. And yet, all that was in the past, now. There was only the future to look to. And so the female had made the slow journey back to the lake, to the scene of the attack.
The smell of the cool water was light as she stood overlooking its shore. The warrior stood tall and proud despite her wounds, and she grasped the Raven Spear but did not use it for support. The white orbs watched the place intently, as if replaying the scene in her head. But finally she felt her weariness and let it overtake her, and, setting the spear into the earth, she lay within the grass. The scar upon her back was tight as she moved, but it was healing well, as were the other wounds upon her body. Soon, there would be no evidence of them save for to the touch. With a sigh, the female turned over onto her back and watched the stars, but there was a belligerence within the warrior, and it flickered there like a quite flame. Her body cooled quickly in the air, and she gave a slight shiver as she turned onto her stomach. Her woad bound hand brushed against something soft, and she lifted it with gentle fingers. It was fur. Slowly the female brought her maw near to scent it, and she recognized the scent of her attacker immediately. With a quite resolve, the female grasped it in her hand. She would take it to the Inferni boarders and ask for the name of its owner.
Night fell slowly and gently, sighing as the last beams of the sun’s light fell beneath the horizon, submitting to the softer body of the night. Within the cloudless heavens shone a half-filled moon, an eye that illuminated with silver tones the darkened world beneath. There was no wind that moved through the lands, and the world was strangely still. But it was not a stillness that invoked a feeling of foreboding. It was a stillness that characterized the limbo between sleep and awake, a comfortable feeling that soothed and called for sleep.
But Cwmfen nic Graine resisted that urge. She had traveled from Dahlia once more, and with the wounds that bore her down, the effort had been long and slow. She had worked through her pain with gentle diligence. And the work that she was putting her body up against was apparent through the light perspiration that beaded her brow and dampened her coat in the cool night. But these days had been warmer than those days prior, and she was intent on keeping her body moving, if only through simple walking. There was a great unrest within the warrior, and it made her more aggressive than her usual tranquil self. She was frustrated by the wounds that she had received. And while she was holding a great dislike for the coyote brute that had attacked her, she was feeling a great shame for herself more keenly. She should have been careful. Should have been prepared. And yet, all that was in the past, now. There was only the future to look to. And so the female had made the slow journey back to the lake, to the scene of the attack.
The smell of the cool water was light as she stood overlooking its shore. The warrior stood tall and proud despite her wounds, and she grasped the Raven Spear but did not use it for support. The white orbs watched the place intently, as if replaying the scene in her head. But finally she felt her weariness and let it overtake her, and, setting the spear into the earth, she lay within the grass. The scar upon her back was tight as she moved, but it was healing well, as were the other wounds upon her body. Soon, there would be no evidence of them save for to the touch. With a sigh, the female turned over onto her back and watched the stars, but there was a belligerence within the warrior, and it flickered there like a quite flame. Her body cooled quickly in the air, and she gave a slight shiver as she turned onto her stomach. Her woad bound hand brushed against something soft, and she lifted it with gentle fingers. It was fur. Slowly the female brought her maw near to scent it, and she recognized the scent of her attacker immediately. With a quite resolve, the female grasped it in her hand. She would take it to the Inferni boarders and ask for the name of its owner.