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Moose.
my nymphetamine girl !
Today was much clearer than the few before it. Kansas had been listening to the rain pounding on the roof the night before until it had suddenly ceased. He liked the sound, but it had been keeping him awake. He consequentially was tired now, his eyelids heavy. But he didn't want to waste the beautiful day asleep. He'd chosen a book from his small stack on the floor of his and Savina's room, and now walked with it tucked under his arm toward the lake. A gentle breeze rustled his fur, smelling of the rain of the night before.
Before long he had reached the lake, and paused a moment to watch its surface ripple in the calm wind. He was surprised to hear a bit of birdsong, another reminder that spring had arrived. Kansas didn't care as much about the changing season as he did about the promise it had to him: his puppies were coming soon. With that boyish grin of his, he moved to the treeline alongside the lake and looked around for a dry place to sit. Finally, the boy found a pile of damp needles and, after brushing them aside for the dry earth beneath, reclined against the tree and opened his book.
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ooc: +400
Rain had been cascading all night down the small crevaces from the surface leading into his den, both soothing and bothering Moose. No sooner would the rain lull him to sleep than he would feel the moisture pooling around his body. The small flood had eventually caused him to seek his respite on a high ledge in the small cave-like place the wolf refered to as home.
Life with the Luperci was confusing. Once he had officially accepted that the legends from his puppyhood were real and that not only were they tangible, he was living among them, he had been having difficulty adjusting to the life. Not that he regreted joining Crimson Dreams for even a moment. He found these unique wolves to be highly intelligent and rather creative as well, but he was finding he felt as though he was left out or falling behind.
Moose had always been large and strong by wolf standards, even in his slightly older years when there were many youngsters willing to challenge him, but now he was only large when the others were in their wolf stages. One transformation and he was like a runt in the pack. Not only that, but these changes left the others much stronger than he was. As for creativity, they again had him bested; with their opposable thumbs, they were able to grasp objects and manipulate them not only better than he, but without him in most cases. Several of them were even learned enough to be able to read, write, and speak other languages.
The once-alpha sighed and rose from his ledge. Leaping easily to lower ledges and eventually the ground, he exited his home. Moose shook the dirt from his fur and stood blinking momentarily in the bright sunshine of the beautiful day that had followed the dreary night. A quick stretch of his body and the now Sergeant was on his way towards the house. Even with his moments of feeling out of the loop, he truly felt at home with the pack.
It was while he was on the trail to the mansion a scent caught his attention. It was Kansas, a male he had met before, and one who was expecting puppies. Just the thought of puppies made the grey male grin; he loved youngsters and could be quite the nursemaid and playmate to them. Oh, had he and Sirce had puppies....
Shaking the thoughts of the past from his mind (not that he didn't enjoy thinking of Sirce, he just didn't want to brood on such a sad affair as their miscarriage for now), he trotted easily down the path to where the male was seated.
Gud morn ta ye, Kan'as. Whit d'ye 'ave thur? He questioned, referring to the book. He had seen them on one of the few visits to the house, but wasn't quite sure of their purpose in the lives of his packmates.
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Eww nasty long wait.
my nymphetamine girl !
Kansas yawned after about a half-hour of reading. It was rare of him to set aside a book that was so deeply engaging, but the beauty of the day and his high energy had him distracted. Strange, that he should be able to focus more on books when he was down or tired. He stretched before drumming his fingers on the corner of the book, skimming to find his previous place. There. He read for perhaps a few moments when a vaguely familiar scent reached his nose and he looked up once more.
He was surprised to see the large, stormy male he'd met in the caves weeks ago. He'd seen Moose around, but had never had a chance to speak much to the relatively new member. Kansas smiled at him as he approached, waving. He never did spend much time with others of his back (anyone, really) and so he was just about delighted to have some company. Keep him on track to becomming a bigger part of Crimson Dreams than just the leader's quiet mate.
"Hey." Kansas had a good grasp of the man's dialect. It was beautiful - other languages and accents fascinated him, especially more so now that he was with Savina. He pointed to the book as if to check if that was what the male meant, and, feeling stupid for even wondering, answered. "Oh, this is one of my books. I have a few - I spend a lot of time reading them... probably too much time..." he added as an afterthought. He hesitated slightly. Social exchanges were not his specialty. "Do... do you read?"
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Book? Read? Again, Moose found himself feeling very naive and lost. Nay... Ah dinnae knaow whit yeh mean bah read... sa Ah dinnae thin' Ah kin d'et. Boot, Ah'm a fs' lerner....jist try meh. There was no way something as simple as a four letter word (had he known what that meant) would defeat him.
Just a few more steps placed the male at Kansas's side. He took a seat there, and looking over his shoulder stared at the object which he now knew to be a book. Before him was what looked like thin, flattened bark, covered in strange markings, as if tiny birds had dipped their feet in mud and walked on it. The male cocked his head to the side in confusion. Not only could he not make heads nor tails of the object in front of him, he still couldn't get his head around the purpose.
ooc: short... sorry
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It's fine - mine's short, too.
my nymphetamine girl !
He grinned to his packmate after he'd spoken. The Sadira was surprised that Moose expressed an interest to learn right away - Kansas didn't even need to ask. At least he knew he would have a good pupil. The ones who wanted to learn always could. "Sounds good," he replied, his grin growing to span across his pale face. Kansas would probably never turn someone who wanted to learn to read down. He was glad to share something he so enjoyed with others with the hope that they might get some enjoyment out of it, too.
He scooted over slightly to allow his counterpart a comfortable seat beside him. The two wolves fit snugly against the sturdy tree behind him. Kansas ran his finger beneath the title of the book as he spoke. Better start with the basics. "The individual marks are letters. They form words, separated by spaces. This says To Kill a Mockingbird."
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Kansas was going to teach Moose to read. Now if only Moose could grasp why someone would want or need to do so. However, he was going to give it a try before he asked any questions.
So far, so good. Moose understood exactly what spaces were... they were gaps. One thing down. As his teacher informed him the marks were called letters, he stored that information away in his mind as well. Looking closer, he noticed a slight pattern and repetition to the squiggles on the cover. They seemed to follow some sort of logical order, just from their shapes. Again, so far so good... however, when Kansas told him what the letters spelled out, he again cocked his head, this time in confusion and amusement.
"Ta Keel a Mahkin'bir'? Tharrs na' mooch ta et... und na mooch meat upon tha bonny birdie once yeh git et. Tis sooch a simple thin' Kansas, why would yeh need ta knaow tha? Ah kin teach ye if'n tis birdies yeh beh wan'in' ta et."
Surely Kansas could catch a bird. There was much more than patience to it. He knew the male was capable, but yet, here he was, reading what, to Moose, amounted to no more than an instruction manual.
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I really love your writing style. Just thought I'd say. <3
my nymphetamine girl !
After he'd finished speaking, Moose leaned closer to the book, probably examining the cover to see if he could make sense of what Kansas was saying. Reading was a hard thing to grasp - it had taken him months to become a good, comprehending reader. He'd started young, so he supposed that was a reasonable amount of time for a pup to fully understand the concepts. It must be easier at an older age. And something about Moose the Wild told Kansas he was very intelligent... he would surely learn quickly.
He paused, listening closely to Moose's words. When the ashen man had finished, Kansas smiled mildly. It was an easy thing to misunderstand. One had to read the book to know what the title meant. The Sadira stared absently at the cover for a moment or so, trying to determine how to answer the question. To himself, he was flattered that Moose had questions at all. "This story isn't about catching birds... It... it means something much... deeper. That's why books are important - to me at least, and to some others. You learn all kinds of things. Stuff you never realized you wanted to know, but th-that are valuable." Another small smile. "Once you get reading, you can borrow this book and find out what the the title really means. If you want."
He drummed his fingers against the cover, wanting to be sure Moose had said what he wanted to in response before continuing with the lesson.
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Books teach things. Okay, easy enough concept to grasp. However, Moose still found experience, practice, and a real live instructor better, but he supposed that if these were not available, a book would suffice. Teaching tools. Nice. One question down. Kansas's response to the instruction manual was a little harder to grasp. The book in his hands was not telling how to kill a mockingbird, but was apparently something much deeper and more important. Perhaps they should have named the book more accordingly.
To the best of his knowledge, things were generally named with some form of rhyme or reason. Hickory trees had hickory nuts; Moose was large and his first kill was a moose... simple enough. Perhaps the reading part would be the easy part and the understanding and comprehension a little tougher to grasp.
Och. Ah see whit ye mean... Ah thin'. He smiled confidently at Kansas. The male was a good teacher, and Moose was eager to learn. Amber eyes scanned the horizon quickly and saw how beautiful the day was. There are hundreds of sunny days here, but today is the one chance I've been given so far to learn something a unique as reading. Might as well take it.
Tell meh mo' Kansas... explain these le'ers ta meh.
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Wanna do a fade-to-black soon?
my nymphetamine girl !
Kansas had been too young when he'd first begun to read to question how useful the skill could be. He'd never really wondered why, never wondered what he could actually get out of reading. But now that he thought about it, he could see why Moose would be skeptical. Books were just another thing humans had left behind - what use could they be to wolves? It occurred to Kansas that he'd never seen Moose shifted; if he was unable, perhaps it was even more difficult to see the use in the secrets books held. Many got along fine without ever knowing how to read.
The pale boy wasn't at all turned off by Moose's questioning air, not that it was bad. It simply made him more eager to help the man understand. He only hoped the other really wanted to know, and wasn't obliging to learn just because Kansas had offered. Well, he was here now. "Letters have different sounds - there's twenty-six of them. Some are vowels; 'a', 'e', 'i', 'o', 'u', and... sometimes 'y'. The rest are consonants..." He began to go across the title, explaining the sound each letter made and how it fit into the word.
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ooc: It's fine with me. We can fade after this post. I'll close it out.
Kansas continued his explaination, sounding out each of the various letters along the title. Softly, as much to himself as aloud, Moose voiced the letters echoing his teacher. The thick brogue of the mottled grey male marred his letters, frustrating him. Aye, ehh, ai, oh, yew... As near and dear as the accent was, it became rather annoying at times like this. Well, these times and the times where no one has a clue what he is saying.
His brow creased in concentration and his tail wagging at learning, Moose cut quite the odd figure. Eventually he would get the hang of this reading thing. He understood that practice makes perfect and it takes time to learn the subtlties of a skill. But why was he, again, so far behind his packmates? Day by day he found himself lagging, and working harder to compensate, bothered by the fact they seemed to be able to give so much more than he could even think about to his new found family. Pushing the thoughts away, he focused on his enunciation of the letters Kansas presented him with. "Ta-oh Ke-ai-el-el Ah...."
{END OF THREAD}
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