10-06-2009, 01:41 AM
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http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_top.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:200px; padding-left:25px; padding-right:25px; padding-bottom:10px;"> Halifax.  The grayscale wolf had spent much of the day exploring these new territories, passing by the closest packs for the moment to explore the wild forest The closest was lovely and lush, and the Russian wolf had greatly enjoyed walking alone in the wilderness. The afternoon sun shone rather brightly down on the sky, though the thick tree growth made the forest rather shadowy and silent. The loner did not find it the least bit unsettling as some might, however, and he hummed as he walked, some pirate tune he'd picked up in a port town years earlier. He could only recall some of the words, so he sang what he knew and hummed the rest, peering around as he walked. There was a young deer slung over the Russian's shoulders, its legs danglings obscenely next to his head. A neat, deep gash in the creature's told the story of its death, cut down by Ilya. The smells of other canines were all around him, and he figured this must be something like the heart of the whole territory, or at least a part many passed through. He had spent most of the day meandering about, and a smaller part of it hunting down the creature that would now serve as dinner for the Russian and his family. He came across an overgrown dirt rode, and he followed it until he came to the cracked asphalt of a real street, wandering along the city streets until he came to a place he recognized, turning to follow that particular path home. The scent of his children grew stronger as he walked, though the song still had not died in his throat. Upon arriving back at the tiny place they'd staked out for themselves, Rurik laid the corpse out on the weatherworn block table with its belly facing him, then turned back to the boat. The area was quiet, but it was still several hours to sundown and Rurik knew both Liliya and Silas could handle themselves after dark, so he did not worry when they did not come to greet him. Perhaps they were out; that made this surprise even better. They would come home to a nice dinner. It had been some time since they'd had real meat, and he was certain his children would appreciate it. The silvery canine retrieved a set of knives, setting to work on the corpse. Rurik was no butcher, but he managed to carve the animal's hide almost completely off, throwing it to the side so that he might cure and stretch it later. One could never have enough fur; they made for a good trade and point of conversation should he encounter someone unfamiliar with the process. This was many of the skills Rurik possessed which were considered basic and common knowledge in the old world; the only creatures that did not know how to skin an animal and derive useful items from its clothes were scholars, and their talents lay mostly in the mind anyway. The same went for obtaining steaks and other good parts of the animal, though that was generally instinctual anyway. Rurik's cuts to the meat were jagged and hardly professional, but he managed to carve most of it from the bones, creating a rather large pile of still-meaty bones they could chew on later. The silvery wolf set about making a fire, occasionally humming now and again as he worked, though he was mostly silent. These were the mechanical motions he'd learned with Verusha, the happiness in monotony that family had taught him. There would always be dinner to prepare for his children, so long as they had Rurik to care for them. Smiling, the large wolf leaned over the large skillet, feeding the larger chunks of meat into it. The rest he would save and turn into jerky, but he had to cook this for the next few days before he did that. Making jerky was an arduous process, but Rurik would be glad for it during the winter months when game grew slimmer. Smoke bubbled from the fire, the spicy scent of cooking meat wafting into the city air. |