Closed Sticks 'N' Stones

[Bulan]

86 SUMMER 521AV
Just outside of the city, 2 bells past noon

Crumbling earth and rustling leaves and the cool scent of earth tinged with the salty breeze that ruffled in her fur—the wolf breathed in deeply and let the familiar smells fill her up with relief. The wolf kelvic had not enjoyed the sea crossing to get to Zeltiva. Everything tasted of salt, smelt of salt and the wolf was sure her coat would never un-matt from the Unending Wind that clung to her thick fur the whole way there. It was a relief to smell something earthy, and rich, to feel the dense, soft sandy mud under her paws.

The wolf shook herself off, a gleeful grin picking its way across her maw, as she prowled into the dense brush. Muddled in the myriad of other smells was another familiar scent—of rabbits. The wolf’s jaws salivated already, as she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten that morning and it was already well past noon. The kelvic never hunted on a full stomach—hunger sharpened her senses.

The wolf sniffed at a low hanging branch and found the scent was strong there where one of the littler critters might have brushed against the foliage as it hopped by. Bulan let her gaze wander across the dirt underneath, looking for other signs that a rabbit might have past through, but the earth was still shifting with sand this close to the coast that any indents left behind would be long gone with a light breeze. Flicking her ears forward, Bulan looked around at the vegetation around her. ‘Where would I go if I were a Little Hopper?’

Sure enough, the kelvic noticed a pattern emergent in the brush heading deeper into the mountains—like little gaps in the scrub where it wasn’t as dense that looked like tunnels. They were animal trails—marked by the habitual paths the smaller animals of the forest took. Badgers, hares, deer, foxes, ferrets, pine marten—all might use the same paths to get along the denser parts of the forests. The wolf ambled over quietly, wondering how far behind the rabbit she was. If she was close, she could try to stalk it and catch it herself. The thought made her fur bristle lightly and her heart chatter with excitement. Without a pack of sharp teeth and agile paws, though, it was a hard feat to chase a rabbit down on her own.

The hunter huffed indecisively. It was easier to set traps and watch and wait, letting twine and twig do the brunt of the hard work for her. The wolf’s thoughts flickered back to the beach where she had changed a half a bell ago. Her clothes and pack were left in a small heap there unobtrusively behind some tall grasses. She had brought her traps with her, she could go back quickly now, and set a few up along the trail. Though she had only caught a faint scent—the closer a hunter could get to her prey, the higher her likelihood of making the catch.

The wolf decided she had to search for some surer signs that marked this trail as a good place to set a trap or three—tracks preferably, droppings too. The wolf lowered her head and pointed herself down the little trail, leading up and away from the beach, and trusted in her nose.

[Milo Murrell]

Stick 'N Stones

86st of Summer 521AV

Milo knew there’d be some stern words and finger-wagging greeting him when he got home. He’d taken off with his bow and arrow and set his mind on hunting some game. Not because it was necessary, there was enough food to go around in the Underhill household, but because he had to get out of the house.

Shiress, he’d noticed, was evading him and his grandparents just fussed over him, especially Lorna. They were nice people he supposed, yet he couldn’t help but shake the feeling they silently disapproved of him, thinking him reckless and probably a heretic too. And then there was Nolen, the only person around the house who wasn’t family and yet the one he felt the most connected too. Nolen didn’t fuss like his grandparents, didn’t evade him like Shiress, and didn’t mewl like Ian. He just did work around the house, and whenever that happened to be outside, Milo was happy to help.

But sometimes he just needed to be away from everyone, just to be alone with his thoughts. Sometimes he’d roam the streets alone, taking in the sights or watching the ships in the harbor. Other times he went a little ways out of the city, into the wild, yet close enough to civilization to stay well out of the territory of any dangerous animals, or so he thought.

He’d just been cursing his luck at his inability to find anything to hunt when he noticed a spot of thick fur, half-hidden behind the foliage. He froze in place, squinted and listened for any tell-tale signs that the animal had noticed him. Dropping to a crouch, he silently drew an arrow from his quiver and placed it on his bow.

He considered taking the shot but then thought better of it. It would be a hard shot to make and besides, he wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. What if it was some crazy animal that only roamed this part of the world that no one had told him about.

Doing his best to stay silent, Milo circled around the nearest tree to get a better look at his prey, and when he finally saw it, he realized it wasn’t prey at all. It was a large wolf with thick fur,sharp teeth and strong hindlegs, the sort of beast that could tear him apart in an instant. Heart racing he tried to decide between attacking first, or waiting for the beast to attack him.

He doubted he'd be able to pull off more than one shot before the young wolf would have closed the distance.

Perhaps he should've stayed home to help Lorna with her knitting after all.