Bulletproof Moments
#1
[html]for Caspa Smile

The cat was crying, meowing at him as he returned to the stable doors. He had been listening to it even as he neared the building. At first he had been concerned, and rushed until he could see what was causing all the commotion. The white and orange cat rubbed against his black foot-paws, purring and cooing in his feline way. Blue eyes looked down at the black rodent that had met its demise. For a moment Alder didn’t know what to do with it, but the small cat’s actions caused him to crouch and pet it on the head and give a small bit of praise.


He opened and walked through the door unsure if the death that met him was a bad omen. But nothing seemed to be amiss. Alder let a big sigh roll through his shoulders, and walked towards Hawthorn’s stall. The giant Shire horse was happy to see him as always, and eager to follow the Marshall out onto the racetrack. The wolf saddled him, added the rest of the tack he needed. Alder had been trying to remain in the pack lands as much as he could and thus he hadn’t been riding as often. Where Alder had been riding ‘Thorn every day or two, for long distances at that, he felt that his travels had slowed to where he needed to keep up the horses training.


A black hand patted his neck, and he mounted the horse swiftly and took to the racetrack. He noticed Hickory seated on a fence post, licking his paw as cat’s so oddly did. Alder didn’t need to ask or give much of a request to the horse, who wished to stretch his legs, and together they began with a slow trot. Alder let his eyes close for a moment, simply feeling the movement and trusting his friend to guide him around the track.

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#2
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Word Count :: 841 Sorry- I'm absolutely exhausted and headachey and the writing quality here is terrible, but hopefully you can kind of figure out what's going on. :|


Some days her body simply yearned for those months it had spent in repose: hardly exerting any hard muscle efforts whatsoever. But now, the mutt had a reason to attempt to push herself a little further every single day. Recovery was easier to track when you had something tangible to measure yourself against, even if it was just the amount of hours she could spend pacing the borders, or the weight of wood she could carry to the smoke-house fires. Then, it never hurt to gain a little muscle anyway. She well remembered the long-ago advice of one of her first encounters in the Cour des Miracles lands, the abrupt and unfriendly warrior who had advised her to eat more. Caspa did her best, but she would never be a bulky thing. She had not insignificant size, with long legs and a broad frame, but every bone was just a little too close to the skin's surface for her to gain any advantage from her near-wolf height. She knew her best bet was to play to her talents, which she could and had been practicing from almost a prone position - the flinging of knives at targets on her bedroom wall, her sharp eyes primed to correct even the slightest millimetre she missed by. Distance was something she could not practice within the confines of the Chien Hotel, though, and she'd gone to the training ground north of the dreaded horse-ridden stables for a bout of long-sighted throwing. She'd found the targets and equipment feeling a little-less used than they had done: she knew that the woman who had trained most often here was no longer a packmate, and though they'd never met, somehow Caspa felt her loss. After what could have been several thousand throws, using her new practice knife over her favoured Sabatiers, she realised her eyes were beginning to ache from focusing for such a long time. When her next throw went so far out that it sailed right past the willow wand and hit a rotting stump, burying itself deeply in the old wood and refusing to come out, Caspa decided it was time to stop for the day. She had one more assignment for herself, based on her decision to follow a strict recovery schedule, but after that, she would allow herself to rest.


Leaving the old knife where it was - she had no clothing today to keep it in or a belt to hold it - she strode away through the trees until she reached the opening that signified the beginning of the stabling area. She did not mean to go too near the hoofed creatures today, though, but to restrict herself to the racetrack. She liked the clearly defined area for running in - it allowed her to keep track of how many times around and at what pace she was managing to sprint. She had begun on the far side from the stable complex, and made her loping way forwards in a clockwise direction. Her optime form found running so much harder than lupus, with its teetering vertical centre of gravity, and she considered it a good strengthening exercise that left her even faster in the four-footed form. It had to be admitted she looked a little strange though, taking long and almost stork-like bounds in an attempt to make any kind of good pace. Her face was set with the effort and a vaguely nippy wind stung tears from her black eyes, so she was glad to reach the more sheltered corner of the circuit where the horse gate was located. As she rounded the corner, though, she was met with a highly disconcerting sight - a gigantic, pitch-black behemoth of a horse or possibly a mammoth was running at her down the straight; hooves looking from here like soup-plates ready to squash her insignificant self underfoot as easily as she would stand on a dandelion clock. Caspa halted, eyes slitting as she stared it down for a moment - fear was just another flaw to overcome, after all - then she span away and ducked to one side, removing herself from the animal's path. Although she despised her own weakness, she found herself trembling from head to toe as the horse got nearer and nearer. Where on earth did this aversion come from, she wondered. She wanted to put even more distance between herself and the equine, but there was a fencepost behind her now and she thought that if she turned to duck beneath it, that might have given the horse enough of a reason to charge at her while her back was turned. As it came nearer, she saw the wolf astride its back which reassured her a little. Surely if he was up there, he must know what he was doing and have some level of control. Still she could not take her eyes away from those beating hooves and pumping chest muscles, transfixed by her irrational terror.

Image courtesy of h.koppdelaney @ flickr; Table by the Mentors!

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#3
[html]it was lovely! wish i could meet its quality Smile


The Shire horse may have been large, his muscle thick and his legs like solid tree trunks. But he could move with a fluid gait that threatened that of a nimble toed Morgan. But Alder would have asked such a lithe creature to carry him, and so he was proud of the strong heavy beast he called his friend. Alder barely held into the reins, his legs gripping just enough so that he stayed seated. His back was straight, and he concentrated just as keenly on his own posture as he did the movement of the stallion. Focusing on his core, then his shoulders... it all fit together, the blocks of muscles that were sewn on top of one another until they reached his ears.


it was all broken, in an instant. Alder had opened his eyes, to look through the two black pointed ears of the stallion. Despite the lifted lids his thoughts clouded his gaze, and it was not until the first hesitation he felt that Alder's tore bay eyes cleared. Instinct took the reins, practice and repetition guiding him. The tall wolf pulled the leather strips, laying in heavily and to the side. The horse hadn't anticipated it, spooked by the unnaturally rough handling and the ghost like figure that had appeared before them. Heavy hooves teetered from remaining on the ground and rising to kick at the open air, but only one feathered hoof pawed the snowy dirt. Hawthorn's long face turned from placid to one with wide eyes and flared nostrils. Alder managed to control him, veering him away from what had passed near them.


He slid off the horse's back in a single fluid motion, standing at his side with one hand on the reins and the other petting his neck. Alder's didn't dare look away, Easy, my friend. Easy. Alder then spoke the way his feline friend Element had taught him, low speech flowing as freely as the high. Alder let the beast walk forward to ease the startle out of his muscles. He couldn't look away from 'Thorn and behind him, to know if it had been real of just his imagination. Or if it was a ghost...

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#4
Words: 546
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Pffft, mine are pure ramble. I like your style much better.


Caspa was not a horse, and she did not have the speed to escape the hooves that were coming for her - so close now, then the animal was thankfully bright enough - or obedient enough - to turn from its threateningly close trajectory. As it went, though, hooves flew out in all directions, it seemed, kicking up snow that dusted Caspa's face and inspired even more chills under her skin than were already there from the pure nerves of being so close to the earth-pounding equine. It seemed her presence had been just as disconcerting to the horse and rider, though, as they veered across the track, before coming to rest and the man slipped easily to the ground, taking command of his horse from what looked like to Caspa a less risky position. She took the opportunity to duck now under the rails, removing herself utterly from the field of peril, which was something of a relief, but she frowned with concern after the pair whose ride she had unwittingly interrupted so abruptly. She should make some explanation, or apology, she supposed, but didn't see that running after them and scaring the horse more would solve anything. She would wait here, then. Resting one still-shaking elbow on a fencepost she was startled to find something soft brushing against it, and twitched her eyes down to see a small and sinuous creature: a cat like the cougar she'd met in the city, but far more convincingly tame than that beast had been, despite its loyalty to its canine master. Caspa lifted up her arm and the animal slunk beneath it, and then turned to rub its head against the limb once more. She lifted her dark brows at its indiscriminate affection. She had only chickens for pets, and they were not inclined to snuggle, preferring to peck or claw at her whenever she picked them up. She had not been keeping them as well as she might, lately, letting them run around too freely but at least foxes and suchlike were nervous of the Chien Hotel and kept away. Since she'd returned from the north, she'd been more attentive at keeping them in their hutch when she was not present, although she often felt guilty about even this - locking the birds up did not seem fair, and if she was honest she had preferred knowing they had their freedom to wander while she was travelling, even if it was possible she could have lost them while absent. She did not really consider herself good with animals - or people, for that matter, but then, she was perfectly capable of functioning around others and that was all that was necessary for a simple soul like herself. She could do with a few more character-judging instincts, she supposed, but you could not change what talents you were born with. She had no idea what kind of wolf the one on the large horse would be, whether he might blame her for the almost-collision incident, but she feared his discontent much less than she feared the hooves of his horse and so waited patiently without any kind of apprehension for their return, giving the cat the odd cursory stroke while she did so.

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#5
[html]Smile


Hawthorn was not one to easily spook. He was stable and strong. Alder hadn't seconded guess the horse's participation in the raid on AniWaya moths before, he knew that the Shire would be stable through the hectic events. And as Alder would expect his horse calmed quickly after the very sudden surprise. The Marshal gave a heavy exhale, and bravely turned his head to see if the creature that had caused the altercation had remained.


Alder stepped around fully, his hand still entwined in the lead and looked at the pale figure beyond the tracks fence. She was unlike any other canine he had seen, looking more like a lithe prey animal then a wolf. He guessed her linage was mostly dog, her ears leading him to such an assumption. She stood beside Hickory, the cat soaking up her attention. Stay Alder spoke to the horse in low-speech, the words coming from his throat very differently then the language that he then used to the female.

I'm sorry about that. Alder spoke, his deep voice holding a soft tone. He stepped forward, and the Shire did as he asked and stayed in place. 'Torn shook his head, mane whipping around in the air as he did so. Alder hoped that the woman would certainly forgive he and his horse for giving off such a chaotic display. You aren't hurt, are you? Alder had been so consumed by the moment that he couldn't even tell what exactly had happened.

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#6
Words: 696
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She couldn't help but wonder at the bravery of the wolf, and all the others who did the same thing, holding onto the lead-rein of the massive animal as if it were a kite on a string. The creature had the strength of a bear, at least, surely - and though she knew horses supposedly were of much gentler temperaments, she could not understand how a prey animal could show such obedience to a creature it surely expected to devour it at any moment. The humans had managed the trick first, and now the luperci followed suit. If Caspa had been a horse, bound by a few simple straps of leather, she would quickly have found her freedom. Perhaps it was her inability to understand they were not the same as her: their intelligence and minds, while not being any lesser, were quite different. But now she had a few solid rails in between herself and the creature, she felt a little more safe - although even a stable door had not helped her before, when with just a few seconds inattention a huge black monster had seized the coat off her back and forced her to clamber in to retrieve it. She had desperately wanted to leave it there, of course, but she rarely allowed herself the luxury of giving in to fear, and the damn coat was one of the few items of clothing she owned and with her silky fur, in this climate, she knew it to be essential. She did have her wolf blood, which allowed her to refrain from draping herself in the many layers and furs that one half of her family were forced to - they even wore clothing during the summertime, although by now it had become quite a tradition: it made returning to lupus form a rare occasion, though, while Caspa liked to shift often between the two during the warmer period, despite the fact it meant she could not braid her long and floppy hair out of the way. It was back in its cornrows today though, the midwinter making shifting away from the cloth-wearing form a great inconvenience, although she hadn't bothered today considering the action of running kept her warm and it took some time to cool down after a sprint or two.


The willowy-tall woman moved nearer to the wolf as he approached her too, politely sharing the burden of closing the space between them, one hand tracing the top of the rail so that the following cat would have something to paw at. Her dark eyes regarded him solemnly, but inwardly she was relieved not to be met with a torrent of blame or anger. The pleasantness of this pack's membership kept on surprising her, month after month. She could understand how it was that the odd rogue managed to break into their ranks: goodness, if she hadn't been so pious and well-behaved, the things she could have got away with in her time here... But of course, even thinking this, Caspa felt no regret at all. It was her responsibility to guard the world from such troublemakers, not feel tempted to join their ranks.


It is I who should be sorry. A horse is hardly out of place on a racetrack," she said, firmly renouncing his apology. She met his eyes then, and found herself looking into a dark mask. It was a striking marking indeed, and akin to her own dark-rimmed orbs, although the fur of her face was barely touched by the narrow rings whereas his spread right to the cheekbone. "I am not hurt. Well, not from today." Damn her eternal honesty: she had forgotten she was trying to shrug off her injuries; they were almost gone now anyway. "Where on earth did you find a horse so large?" she could not help asking: and it made a good change of subject anyway. It would be good to know the place that was the origin of creatures such as this one, so that she could make certain to carefully avoid it at all costs.

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#7
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Her words made him blush slightly, heat rising into his furred cheeks. Alder was often grateful for that thick fur, keeping others from seeing how easily he was pushed to bashfulness. Yet, his ears did turned a warmer shade of pink and Alder looked away for a brief moment. Of course there was a place for the horses here, it was their domain of course. Alder would have easily given it up for the doggish fey; he gave his ground quickly to those that asked for (or demanded) it. He was passively curious to what brought her here, there was a glint of anger in her eyes when they passed over the dark horse behind him. It was easy to sense that she was not friendly towards Alder’s hoofed charges.


In any accord, the male was glad that she was not hurt. At least not from Hawthorn and he. Blue gaze glanced over the female’s slight and whisp-ful figure. She looked as if she could be blown away by a horse’s snort, and Alder did not know of another creature that resembled her at the least. Though, he did think of a swan. Long necks, pallid feathers and dark eyes… Delicate and serene in their movements. Alder tried his best to simply look at her eyes, remaining dutiful in his polite eyes contact.


When her tone turned to his friend Alder turned to look once again at the horse. He had remained in place, just as Alder had asked him. A smile reached his lips, for ‘Thorn brought him great pride and happiness. He came from AniWaya, but bred in a wild herd. He took her question as one that was sincerely curious, and so his tone was light and eager. I need a thick boned horse, to carry my own thick bones. He gave a small laugh as he spoke the truth about his stature. He paused a moment before, I’m Alder. came from his lips.

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#8
Words: 646
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Despite Caspa's brazen exterior, there was also a streak of obedience running through her, maybe inherited from human-bred ancestry, or perhaps trained into her by the tyranny of her domineering birth-pack. She understood hierarchy, or thought she did. The setting of one above another was a simple way to ensure that harmony was kept, with the more worthy of leadership higher up the ranks, and it was even possible that a high ranking was the sole qualification for worth, sometimes, as long as a basic or primal law of goodness was not violated or the power abused. She was a special case, though, and so was the Court, being not a truly-governed settlement, but a disorderly mixture of followers with different backgrounds and beliefs. Still, the truth of hierarchy survived here, for where would they be if they did not all know to follow their King? When it came to Caspa thinking herself a special case, though, this was simply because she had given herself to the higher power and dedicated her life to the same: thus, whatever leader she followed was merely a reflection of the fact she followed one much greater. Of course, this changed nothing at face value, and without clarification such a small point would never be noticed by another of her packmates. This was a fact that existed purely within Caspa's mind and perhaps her soul, if such a thing truly existed as she thought. Whichever way round you saw things, though, she was a born follower: and if the day came there was nobody set higher above her to follow, she would still have the True Path to guide her obedient foosteps.


The answer to her question was quite fascinating. Aniwaya was the home of Maska Ahote - or, previous home. Caspa wasn't entirely sure what was happening there now, even though she'd been one of the ones helping to attack it and had even assisted in killing a Guardian, using her poisoned throwing knives. Now there was a new leadership though, so perhaps they were the ones Alder had dealt with to receive his horse - or one of the members, for she'd been told that few of them, even, had been loyal to that prejudiced criminal and kidnapper. "Aniwaya..." she murmured portentously, wondering if this would be enough to prompt him to explain the history of his links with that clan. Likely not. "You have ties there?" she wondered further, for maybe this would go some way to answer her question.


"I am glad to meet you, Alder. Well, gladder than I would have been to be trampled due to my own stupidity," she joked, but her face remained solemn, a trait often found in Caspa that was sometimes considered disconcerting. He looked to be about her age, but far greater in size. He really was tall, she noted now, and well-built. Next to his horse, he didn't seem so large, but that was because that creature would have dwarfed even a nine-foot giant. If Caspa rode it, she thought, the animal would probably forget that she was even on its back: she was a featherweight compared to the male. She did not recognise his smell with great familiarity, and surmised he was not a resident of the Hotel - or very new, and somehow she didn't think he was fresh blood - so he must dwell elsewhere in the packlands, perhaps Lunenburg where she travelled only rarely - most recently to return the young Skoll to his family home. Alder's markings were striking, dark on agouti, and his eyes recalled a sky that was currently hidden behind the grey winter cloud, reminding her of better times - Caspa was a hot-country creature by breeding and found the wintry weather oftentimes difficult.

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#9
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Alder often felt a great gratitude towards the female that he had traded Hawthorn from. She had been a kind soul, and considered his need for a heavy horse and his excitement to see that she indeed had once that would fit him. Alder had only brought a mare, small and thin as well as a few furs that were not the best of quality. But she could see the excitement and the joy in his face and have given him the obvious better end of the bargain.


To know that Liliana was dead had hurt the male greatly. The conflict with AniWaya had torn families apart, taken his mother and put her in immense danger and had destroyed the peace of the southern region. And Liliana had died while staying in Crimson Dreams. When his mother had told him of it, it had been after months had passed and he wished so much that he could have done something. All he had was Hawthorn to remind him of her.


The white hybrid spoke, and Alder read between the lines of her tone. And when she questioned him Alder hesitated slightly. When the problems between all the packs arose Alder had fled to Crimson Dreams in the hopes that his mother Anu would come home. There had been a great guilt once the fighting died down, for he had been in Crimson Dreams instead of protecting the Court’s borders. It was only the fact that Alder had charged into AniWaya beside Courtiers that eased that guilt. Not anymore, but I hope for the future. Alder spoke with obvious unease.


Her words were jest-like, but her features did not change and it made Alder unsure. He floundered in the shallow pools of small talk. What brings you to the track? Looking for a horse? he asked, curious to what made her drift over to the specific spot in the vast territory.

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#10
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His answer was ambiguous, and Caspa suddenly realised she did not want to pry, but still the need to understand more about the links and ties that existed here nibbled at her. She had come as an outsider, with no family or friends in the area. When the order had been given to attack AniWaya, she'd obeyed simply because she wanted to prove her loyalty, and because she trusted the word of her King regarding the crimes the rogue leader had been committing. A small amount of guilt needled at her that she had been too quick to mindlessly attack, without first investigating the situation fully. But not much. After all, that was the point of a monarchy: obey first, ask questions later, and she did trust Vigilante. His face was as sombre as her memories, or more so. Caspa suddenly realised that she was yet to meet a grown adult in this land without a care on their shoulders. Truly she had been sent to the right place. "Oh, and I am called Caspa," she said after a moment's thought, which at least removed the need to question him about 'not any more'. There could be a myriad of explanations there, and she had a feeling it was nothing good.


His next question seemed to be designed to change the subject, but it made her eyes fly open with horror, the long lashes quivering in what was almost (but not quite) a feminine manner. "Oh, NO!" she exclaimed. "No, no, as near as I am now, is quite near enough." And her hands were still resting lightly on the fence as if to reassure herself there was a barrier between herself and the horrifyingly large creature. "I was just training. I have some new muscles to build." On rare occasions it became clear that English wasn't her mother-tongue: although she spoke with hardly a trace of an accent, in a low monotone.

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#11
[html]we can end here, or continue if you'd like Smile

There was something that changed in Caspa when Alder asked that question. Everything in her features told him before she even spoke that it was certainly not the reason for her coming to the race track. He was slightly taken a-back but the reaction, figuring that the only reason others might venture here was horse and Marshal related. He had been mistaken, as she explained the male was enlightened by the new information. He had not thought much of running for such a reason, but of course his daily tasks were likely odd to the woman too. Alder ran to chase, and did not find pleasure in galloping on his own four paws with no motivating lure.


Hawthorn shook his head, snorting lightly as he stood in the place Alder had situated him. He enjoyed meeting canines, and he did not understand why all of the attention was passing between the other two creatures with not even a nibble given to him. His caretaker payed no attention, focusing his thoughts on the lithe woman before him. We can leave you to your running if you'd like, I will make sure that no one interrupts you. Alder smiled, his tone genuine as he sought to please the fey and share the racetrack. There was no reason for horse and canine not to co-exist in harmony, even if one did not wish to interact closely with the other.

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#12
Sorry, short but I'm very happy to carry on if that's alright!

The horse showed signs of impatience, which Caspa had no idea how to read. She remained wary, wondering if the animal might suddenly start running again, or lash out with one of those massive solid-walled hooves. "Thank you for the thought, but it is better suited for your training. I was on my way to the hotel, anyway," she brushed away his kind offer. Generally she only ran around the borders or on her way to and from certain locations, but she had gotten used to using the race-track to test her speed, counting strides to measure how quickly she could circle it. Never more than once a day though: she was unwilling to risk too many equestrian encounters. Although when the rider was such an agreeable character, well that did soften the unpleasantness a good deal. "Are you a hotel resident?" she wondered, her eyes frank but friendly.
#13
[html] ok Big Grin!

The white hued woman gave a grateful decline, and Alder grew slightly saddened that she did not take his offer. But her question lifted his sprits, for the woman was not simply dismissing him in a polite manner. She was kind; Alder could see that in her eyes as well as read it in her tone. But she was uncomfortable with Hawthorn around and the male tried to understand that. The stallion was such a gentle creature, and his personality was just as another canine’s was. One simply needed to get to know him to see who he truly was.


No, I live in a cabin not to far from here. It was build by another Courtier, but she left to form Casa di Cavalieri. So she gave it to me. Alder spoke with a nod. He felt lonely at times, but he had Hickory now and the two were learning each other’s language and that eased the loneliness at times. Having lived in the Manor of Crimson Dreams and then in Haven and Princess’ cabin there was an odd silence in his own house some times. Hickory and I like it. He added with a soft smile, giving a small nod to the kittenish cat.


Have you lived here long? Its been about a year for me. He looked at the female as he gave his question. He was unsure about any member’s sonority. At times he could tell if one was newer or not, and other times because of his shyness he was unable to tell.

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#14
She knew the cabin he meant - and the wolf. Their paths had never crossed yet, even while Anann lived within the court, as the two creatures operated in very different spheres. Much as Caspa and Alder's worlds were so close but worlds apart, at least until now. Her anxiety around horses saw to that. She observed Hawthorn with unreadable eyes as Alder finished telling her about his home, adding that the cat liked the cabin too, which made her smile. Of course animals had thoughts and feelings just as the canines did: Caspa would never dispute that. She merely found the idea of a prey animal's subserviency to a predator alarming and surely not something to be trusted. But perhaps in time she could get used to the massive hoofed creatures, and learn they bore no grudge to their canine riders. "I know the cabin and I remember Anann, she nodded, "She was often in the training grounds, but her scent has faded now. I am there sometimes throwing knives at the targets." The unspoken addition was: alone. Always alone.

"A year for me, too. Last winter I was journeying in the heavy snow… I don't intend to repeat that adventure. And, this is a good pack," she answered with her precise manner. Now she knew he was certainly one of the loyal ones and not a passer-by, Caspa felt even more inclined to attempt to get to know this soft-spoken man better. She had nothing against the drifters, she liked the transient aura they gave to their little society. But she was never too interested in building a deep bond with those who might be prone to leave at any moment. She really didn't have many friends, and perhaps that was the reason. She was too loyal, and others too easily bored. Terra had sworn her loyalty with such ferocity that Caspa had instantly warmed to her, or perhaps that was simply down to the coy-wolf's fire-and-ice temperament so different to hers. Then there were the leaders and their families, whose responsibilities made them reliable. Other than that, nobody.

"What brought you to the court, Alder?" she wondered then. He seemed to have friends all over these lands - a horse from Aniwaya, a cabin from the Cavalieri pack… but he had chosen the Court as his home. She couldn't help but wonder why.
#15
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Their lives were certainly so close and yet so far from one another. Alder was even surprised that she knew of Anann, and yet there was such an obvious dislike for horses. In Alder’s mind there was no one else that knew as much about horses as Anann did. His own knowledge did not reach that of the once Courtier. It saddened him each time he thought of her, and of her horse Rem. Alder had been close to both of them. I am not much of a fighter, and avoid the training grounds. he spoke. It was amusing how their paths had almost touched so often, for a whole year even, and hadn't crossed till now. It is. Alder replied. He found that he loved the Court as much as he loved Crimson Dreams. He loved it for in his eyes the pack was Hawthorn and the herd, his brother Haven and those as honorable as their King.


Her question was one Alder was not always open to answering. He felt slight shame when he spoke of it, and that was enough for him to skirt around the center of his move. I came to live with my brother, Haven. I belonged to Crimson Dreams, my mother is the second in command there. I needed a change. Haven said I could live with him. he spoke with a shrug. Anu had told him that he needed to go, though her words had been kinder. But her shadow had been such a comfort for him, and he had struggled to understand that it had been a push from the nest so that he could soar in a new light. The meek and self conscious adolescent had needed to leave Crimson Dreams to find himself, and become self sufficient. It had worked, for he no longer looked to his mother for every answer to each problem that came his way.

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#16
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He claimed to be not much of a fighter, and Caspa nodded with some surprise and delight. Peaceable wolves were thin on the ground, she knew. Even herself, a student of peace, felt that occasional acts of physical aggression were necessary in order to keep the unsavoury elements of the world at bay and to protect the weak. She was however never quite far enough from the ranks of the weak herself to do too much in this area. But she had never encountered deliberate non-violence. She admired him and knew she would be thinking much more upon this later. "Your animal has weapons enough for you both, I am sure. Those hooves are as large as most canine's heads and twice as hard, I am guessing," she observed. Crimson Dreams had been one of their allies and the pack most injured by the Aniwayan tyrant, so Caspa was surprised to hear Alder had links there as well as his trading and friendship with the Western wolves. To her he came across as a forgiving and accepting type, and she knew he was right, now that the poison had been sucked from Aniwayas wounds, which hadn't been there before the arrival of the Ahote, there was no reason for anybody to bear a grudge. How his heart must have ached during the fight, though, she conjectured, for his friends on both sides. But that was history now and she didn't intend to go dragging it up. Instead she ducked below the fence once more and took a few careful steps towards Hawthorn, hearing a mew from the cat behind her she half imagined as a warning call. After her small speech on the horse's ferocious appearance, Caspa felt herself suddenly determined to conquer her fear. And where better to start than this gentle-looking animal. Her hair prickled alarmingly as she came nearer, before stopping just beside Alder and facing the horse. She lowered her leather hood, and gave him a steady smile which belied her screaming instincts to move away from the gigantic and healthy herbivore. "May I?" She wasn't sure what she was asking - to go closer, to touch the horse's soft-looking nose and try to forget those huge teeth and hooves? She knew she was stalling, and cursed her cowardice. Her breathing became even and forcefully slow. She wished to suppress her sense of danger: master even that final instinct.
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#17
[html] aw yay Caspa!

If it came down to it, as it had during the battle in AniWaya, Alder would look to his horse friend for help in a fight. But he had used his teeth and claws in the past. He knew none of those things were for him. The thought of practicing it as an art made him uneasy. He would rather master low speech dialects or simply groom a horse. He did not want to have to fight, or for the pack to be at war. Alder nodded, He has helped in the past. He confessed. Hawthorn was an intimidating creature, and though when I came to his personality there was no true reason to be frightened, Alder knew that many simply saw his stature and judged from there.


There was a visible surprise in his expressive face when the female breeched the physical barrier and walked towards the horse. Alder could tell that ‘Thorn changed as well. It was not on purpose, but as the stallion watched the female near him, he knew that she wished to truly meet. The dark horse buzzed with excitement, but stood perfectly still. If he were a pup, his tail and rear would be wagging hastily. Of course. Alder spoke, stepping to the side and holding the horse’s lead securely. It was simply to show the wolfess that he had the horse under control. Hawthorn waited with baited breath for her to pet him. The only thing he wished for since they had come across the ghost like fey.

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#18
Her eyes narrowed, but although he moved aside it was clear the male was not going to relinquish his control over the horse completely. Grateful, Caspa approached, step by slow-motion step, long stork-like legs almost making the motion look deliberately exaggerated. She halted before the animal's massive head: glanced to his master once more, a questioning expression in her eyes. Was she doing it right? Didn't prey animals run away if you looked right at them? No, that must be a myth - she'd been looking at the horse already, and he had been standing perfectly still, as if trained to do so. Caspa waited just long enough to assure herself that Alder's patience and accommodation of her idiosyncratic request had not run out, then she took the final step, lifting a slow and anxious hand as she did so. The fingertips ghosted across the immense and immeasurably soft muzzle of the horse, and then tugged away a little to gauge the reaction. Once more her eyes turned to the Captain, and there was an air of disbelief in their shadowy depths: had she really just done that, and had it really not led to her instantaneous trampling? "Are you sure he doesn't mind? Why… why is it that these creatures do not wish to hurt us predators?"
#19
[html] sorry for the wait


Hawthorn had come to Alder and lain in fairly inexperienced hands with faith and hope for the young wolf. Masked eyes had looked to the large creature with the same emotions, and together they forged the bond that stood before Caspa. Alder trusted his friend, and though their speech was unlike the vocals passed between wolves it was fully understandable when spoken. They had learned to read each other’s bodies; a flick or the ear or the subtle change in the size of a pupil often spoke louder then a sound that bounced off their tongues.


With pure confidence Alder watched the female’s hesitation, understanding her fear as it reminded of his own under different circumstances. She hardly let her fingers graze over the softness of Hawthorn’s nose before retracting them and speaking a question. Alder looked at the horse, disappointment in his dark eye. He placed a black hand high on his neck, claws lightly scratching to remedy the lack of attention the stallion was feeling.


He’s hoping you will. He answered the first portion with a soft smile. Though the Marshal did not know how to explain the answer for the second half. He continued to give the horse praise for his patience and stillness. Some will. he spoke honestly. But Hawthorn does not look to us as a predators. He is unafraid here, just like you and I don’t fear our pack mates. Alder paused, but then added, That is how I view them. Members as equal as you and I. In the beyonds, life was different. Thoughts of his half brother in Inferni and the mistreatment he placed upon his horse came to mind. But here Alder resided to keeping the utopia in the stables alive.

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