Mechanical Failure

Willam la Chemin · 09-14-2012, 01:39 PM

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Word Count → 336 :: Prompt: Pieces of old, rusting farm equipment are still scattered around the remains of Bass River. Find a way to dispose of one of these to help clear the land.

Willam was growing into a routine within Inferni. She had learned to make rounds around the borders when she found herself not doing anything else. She was allowed to continue to pursue her religion as well. Even though it was much different here she found herself still able to feel almost at home. She continued with her daily devotions, having a few changes to them, and managed to make herself a part of Inferni as well. She might not know everyone still but she felt adjusted enough. She had a place where she stayed rather than out in the forest any longer. There was even one member around that she was starting to think of as a friend, though she had no idea if that feeling was returned or not. But she'd really rather not think of that for the moment.

Châtiment walked the borders with at her side as Willam took the opportunity to make her rounds. But she ended up distracted as she was rounding the area where the wild sheep meandered about. One of creatures was struggling and fighting against something that she couldn't see right off because of long blade of grass hiding the object from sight. She slowly started in the direction of where the sheep was at, sniffing at the air but unable to smell any sort of animal intrusion.

"Careful Châtiment." The words were tossed back to the stallion that continued to follow after her. She didn't know what had the sheep trapped and so she didn't want her equine companion to suffer the same fate. When she got closers she noticed it was some large and rusted metal piece that the sheep had gotten its leg caught in. She still had no idea what the object was or even how to help the trapped creature. The sheep was only continuing to tear up its leg with the more that it struggled. Willam had no idea if it was making itself lame or not with its attempts to escape.

Max Klein · 09-14-2012, 03:06 PM

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(728)This is very tl;dr, the last paragraph is really all that matters Xx Sorrrrry.

art by crypsis

After nearly a month, the wounds left from his fight with the cougar had all but faded. Emmanuelle was a competent healer and kept them from growing infected, and none were deep enough to scar badly. The most visible was formed at his shoulder, where four tracks lingered from the cougar’s claws. All of those had, after he and his companion had turned on the beast, been collected and sent away with the hopes of something new coming his way. Armor was something he didn’t need, and he could do better than some scavenged off Boreas no less.

The rest of the month had been slow, with Max working on perfecting his new trade. There was help with this from Maddox, and between the two of them grandiose ideas for the building were brought up. Some of them were more ridiculous than others, and Maddox had gotten furious and stormed off when Max and Remy took it upon themselves to imagine a catapult-styled contraption for the building, and even gone so far as to draw horribly crude designs on the table using a stick of charcoal.

He was still rather amused by the whole thing, and decided to take the scraps of food from the kitchen to Inferni’s noisy ravens. One in particular had begun harassing him almost as soon as he entered the forest, and Max had considered shooting him with the crossbow that hung from his side. Instead he had ignored the male and gone about passing out the goodies. When a somewhat cracked egg was drawn from the pouch, an older raven lit on his shoulder. Max started at this and stared openly. Most of the birds weren’t half so bold (unless shouting rude things was a sign of bravery).

“Egg,” the raven said in a voice like grit. Max put it aside and the bird awkwardly walked down his arm. He was not as glossy as the others nor did he move as fast—and watching him, Max felt a strange sense of pity. Even as he dumped the rest of the goods out, he kept an eye on the bird.

Gunther stomped into the forest behind him and stuck his head right near the food, as if it was meant for him. Max shoved him away as the birds fluttered up and away…all but one. His eyes narrowed slightly, in thought, as he shooed off his horse and went towards the bird.

“Not scared?”

“Not,” the bird echoed, and hopped forward. He seemed familiar with the ground, and carried one wing oddly.

“Well at least someone isn’t,” Max commented idly, and squatted down. “Is your wing hurt?”

“Hurt before. Not hurt.” Puzzled, the coyote cocked his head in a doggish manner.

“Can you fly?”

“Not fly good. Still look. Still hear.”

There was a dull sense of admiration for the idea. Max smiled and held out his arm. “I could use another set of both.”

After appraising him for several long moments, the old raven hopped and then climbed up to Max’s shoulder. His talons were sharp but not painful, and he settled there well enough.

“I’m Max.”

“Munin.”

It was oddly familiar. He wondered if he had heard it before, thought to store it away, and turned back to the massive palomino grazing behind them. With the bird on his shoulder the white warrior mounted and headed off.

The ride was slow, adjusting to Munin’s inexperience on the horse, but he soon settled into the rocking motion. Max talked and the bird listened, repeating back things, testing the words. There was not much to him; the injury had occurred sometime earlier in his life and not been an issue until recently. He was older than Max, which surprised the coydog. He also, as Max found out, was not fully incapable of flight—he simply found that long flights or those in bad weather hurt his wing more.

Their conversation was cut off when Gunther let out a loud whinny, announcing himself to the upwind animal. Max looked up sharply and found a familiar form near the animal, though it was hunched over and near a bleating sheep. Curious (and partially concerned) he urged the war-horse into a trot. To his surprise, Munin flew ahead…though he circled lazily until Max dismounted and quickly re-attached himself to the coyote’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Max called.

Willam la Chemin · 09-14-2012, 04:34 PM

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Word Count → 517 :: No need to apologize, I enjoy reading it. I'm just surprised at how quickly someone replied.

Willam knelt down near the scared creature and tried to figure out what to do to help it. Of course the sheep wasn't realizing that such was her intention and had started to put up an even bigger fight. But all of this struggle was just wearing the poor animal out. Willam couldn't even begin to guess how long the sheep had been caught like this but it had been long enough to make the captured leg raw and bloody. Willam could only imagine the pain that it was in. It's bleating was loud and clearly frightened.

The female was forced to look up at the sound of another. Her face quite visibly broke out in relief as she noticed who it was. Willam was quick to get to her feet and approach the male. Normally she kept her distance but this time she couldn't help herself but to try and wrap her arms around Max's neck to try and hug him as well as trying to lick his cheek. It eased so many worries and concerns to see that he was well. It didn't seem as if he had suffered too greatly from the encounter with the cougar. He was marked up the same as she was, the fur upon her body hiding most of her injuries. Across her chest, over her shoulders, and onto her back had been clawed up but she was so used to scarring that it hadn't bothered her to have fresh ones on her body, though these hadn't come from penance as the others had.

"I am so glad that you are okay." The words were spoken as she pulled away. Willam bowed her head, ashamed of herself for such an overly friendly display. She had been blaming herself the whole time for what had happened to him as well as stressing worse outcomes. She was glad that he was still able to move about freely and didn't seem hindered in the slightest. But then his question came back to mind.

Willam looked back at the sheep and moved the wooly animal's side once more. "It's leg is stuck in... something. I don't know what it is. I have never seen it before. I was trying to figure out how to free it without hurting it anymore than it has already injured itself." She explained, looking up at Max as she did so. "Do you think it will still be able to survive if we manage to free it or should we just put it out of its misery already?" Willam was all for mercy killings. She didn't really like the thought of anyone suffering, aside from those wolves that had burned la Chemin, and so she was quick to put down whoever or whatever would only continue to suffer and be unable to take care of themselves as a result of an injury. She would want the same for herself. If she were to ever become an invalid than she would wish for a quick death rather than a longer life where someone else had to take over her care.

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