10-07-2009, 04:59 PM
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I put her near Oberon's Spring, I hope that's okay! ~400 words.
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Tired of her long, mostly-self-imposed isolation, Eliza ventured out of her newfound home and decided to wander in search of some company. If, indeed, I am still fit company, she thought over-dramatically. The longer she was alone, the harder it became to go out and actually find her packmates. She was in danger of becoming a full-fledged hermit at this point, as far as she could tell. She wondered what they thought of her, the others in Dahlia de Mai, then shook her head briskly and tried to forget she had wondered at all. Only depressing thoughts lay that way.
Comfortable in her lupus form, she swiftly made her way due East from her den toward the distant sound of rushing water. Despite her plentiful supply of empty days the past few months, she had never taken the time to explore the packlands very thoroughly, mostly held at bay by her immature, superstitious fear of the odd-smelling water that had plagued her trek Northward, which she had thus far been to cowardly to confront or name. The Spring to the East of Berwick, however, held water fresh and pure, though it was much closer to the corrupted water than she generally felt comfortable being. She hated how cowed she was by her fear, but she had rarely been forced into contact with anything so alien as this in her short life, and she found she was not as courageous as she would have previously liked to believe.
As the pale female approached the gently flowing waters, she paused, considering. Deciding she was thirsty enough, she dipped her head to drink. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a good-sized fish, and, after a second of deliberation, quickly turned and pounced, childishly leaping into the shallows of the spring in pursuit of the slippery thing. It was a joyful thing, catching fish -- she wasn't skilled at it, and the fish evaded her attack easily, but there was something so fun in trying to catch prey that was so slick and fast. She was an effective hunter on land, but didn't normally take much pleasure in the chase, unless she happened upon an animal that was particularly wily. Fish, though, were always a challenge. Splashing about in the shallow water like a pup was embarrassing, vaguely, but if no one was around then there was little harm in it.
Tired of her long, mostly-self-imposed isolation, Eliza ventured out of her newfound home and decided to wander in search of some company. If, indeed, I am still fit company, she thought over-dramatically. The longer she was alone, the harder it became to go out and actually find her packmates. She was in danger of becoming a full-fledged hermit at this point, as far as she could tell. She wondered what they thought of her, the others in Dahlia de Mai, then shook her head briskly and tried to forget she had wondered at all. Only depressing thoughts lay that way.
Comfortable in her lupus form, she swiftly made her way due East from her den toward the distant sound of rushing water. Despite her plentiful supply of empty days the past few months, she had never taken the time to explore the packlands very thoroughly, mostly held at bay by her immature, superstitious fear of the odd-smelling water that had plagued her trek Northward, which she had thus far been to cowardly to confront or name. The Spring to the East of Berwick, however, held water fresh and pure, though it was much closer to the corrupted water than she generally felt comfortable being. She hated how cowed she was by her fear, but she had rarely been forced into contact with anything so alien as this in her short life, and she found she was not as courageous as she would have previously liked to believe.
As the pale female approached the gently flowing waters, she paused, considering. Deciding she was thirsty enough, she dipped her head to drink. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a good-sized fish, and, after a second of deliberation, quickly turned and pounced, childishly leaping into the shallows of the spring in pursuit of the slippery thing. It was a joyful thing, catching fish -- she wasn't skilled at it, and the fish evaded her attack easily, but there was something so fun in trying to catch prey that was so slick and fast. She was an effective hunter on land, but didn't normally take much pleasure in the chase, unless she happened upon an animal that was particularly wily. Fish, though, were always a challenge. Splashing about in the shallow water like a pup was embarrassing, vaguely, but if no one was around then there was little harm in it.
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