¤ 8th day of Autumn, 513 AV ¤
The first day of the second week in fall saw a Avanthal's resident golden jackal jumping and prancing through the previous night's thick snow with glee. Sure, it was really, really cold, but that could hardly dampen the energy, much less his mood, or even hinder his whimsical frolicking. It wasn't often, after all, that he managed to rouse himself before the other residents of Snowsong, thus giving him more or less free reign over the paths they would follow for the day.
Still, he knew almost no one would follow his asinine, weaving trail for long, so he made a real effort of it and had the absolute most fun with the activity as he could, nearly freezing his paws to the bone before he saw any significant amount of Vantha activity. Most simply shook their heads at his winding trail through the snow, some even actually smiling at his childish abandon as he leapt past them bounded about and through the snow like a wild thing.
He'd been at it for hours and was quite thoroughly drained by the time a real path was forged. Of course, by then he was panting heavily, his breath coming out in large white puffs over his lolling tongue. He'd made his way nearly to the other side of Avanthal, his erratic path having led him over to Frostfawn Hold. This was, of course, a mixed blessing to the jackal. It meant he could occasionally coerce scraps of food from the animal-loving Vantha, but.. well, after the cat incident, he still wasn't so sure he should be showing his fuzzy muzzle around that particular Vinata's branch of Icewatch.
So it was with a sense of cautious optimism that Rysmarin started... or rather, continued his sojourn into possibly-hostile territory. Of course, that optimism quickly began to fall as he realized something was... a little odd in the hold. Something seemed... different. Something was missing, but the young jackal simply couldn't seem to place what it was for a minute.
The answer came to him with a deep breath... the smell was different. Perhaps cleaner? As if many of the animals in the usually populous hold were denned up or otherwise hidden. A quick look around confirmed this to be a fact, and a slow, foreboding realization came upon the kelvic. Why would frostfawn, a hold wholly dedicated to and markedly proud of their animals hide them?
The answer was as obvious as the shadow now descending upon the small-ish canine. Rysmarin looked up, only to see a large bird honed in on and diving down towards him, tallons outstretched. "Oh Shyke!" he yelped, backpedling quickly through the snow before he gained traction and bolted, running as fast as he could from the loud squawk and thump that sounded in his wake.
On some level, he knew he couldn't outrun or outmaneuver the aerial predator... but his baser instincts overwhelmed that logical thought, forcing his tired legs to keep running from the hungry, pride-stung, and furious bird that was chasing him. It soon occurred to him that he might be able to scare it off or maybe dissuade if he shifted back into his human form, but that would require him to slow down... An act he was sure would spell his demise.
Of course, he was quickly running out of time and options as the shadow came over him once again, his shiny, well-groomed fur doing absolutely nothing to hide his presence in the pure white that surrounded him. In the last second, he leapt sideways, getting clipped in his back leg by a monstrously oversized wing. He yelped loudly again, tumbling through the deep snow off the path as the bird righted itself and screeched at him. With his leg bruised as badly as it was, he knew instinctively that he couldn't get away like that a third time.
No, he'd have to stand and fight... and for a moment, he doubted that anything less than divine intervention could save him now. He offered a brief prayer to Morwen, Dira, and whatever other beings happened to be listening, godly or otherwise, then turned and lowered himself into a fighting stance like his father had taught him long ago, fully prepared to fight back when the gargantuan bird inevitably came after him again.
And come it did.
Still, he knew almost no one would follow his asinine, weaving trail for long, so he made a real effort of it and had the absolute most fun with the activity as he could, nearly freezing his paws to the bone before he saw any significant amount of Vantha activity. Most simply shook their heads at his winding trail through the snow, some even actually smiling at his childish abandon as he leapt past them bounded about and through the snow like a wild thing.
He'd been at it for hours and was quite thoroughly drained by the time a real path was forged. Of course, by then he was panting heavily, his breath coming out in large white puffs over his lolling tongue. He'd made his way nearly to the other side of Avanthal, his erratic path having led him over to Frostfawn Hold. This was, of course, a mixed blessing to the jackal. It meant he could occasionally coerce scraps of food from the animal-loving Vantha, but.. well, after the cat incident, he still wasn't so sure he should be showing his fuzzy muzzle around that particular Vinata's branch of Icewatch.
So it was with a sense of cautious optimism that Rysmarin started... or rather, continued his sojourn into possibly-hostile territory. Of course, that optimism quickly began to fall as he realized something was... a little odd in the hold. Something seemed... different. Something was missing, but the young jackal simply couldn't seem to place what it was for a minute.
The answer came to him with a deep breath... the smell was different. Perhaps cleaner? As if many of the animals in the usually populous hold were denned up or otherwise hidden. A quick look around confirmed this to be a fact, and a slow, foreboding realization came upon the kelvic. Why would frostfawn, a hold wholly dedicated to and markedly proud of their animals hide them?
The answer was as obvious as the shadow now descending upon the small-ish canine. Rysmarin looked up, only to see a large bird honed in on and diving down towards him, tallons outstretched. "Oh Shyke!" he yelped, backpedling quickly through the snow before he gained traction and bolted, running as fast as he could from the loud squawk and thump that sounded in his wake.
On some level, he knew he couldn't outrun or outmaneuver the aerial predator... but his baser instincts overwhelmed that logical thought, forcing his tired legs to keep running from the hungry, pride-stung, and furious bird that was chasing him. It soon occurred to him that he might be able to scare it off or maybe dissuade if he shifted back into his human form, but that would require him to slow down... An act he was sure would spell his demise.
Of course, he was quickly running out of time and options as the shadow came over him once again, his shiny, well-groomed fur doing absolutely nothing to hide his presence in the pure white that surrounded him. In the last second, he leapt sideways, getting clipped in his back leg by a monstrously oversized wing. He yelped loudly again, tumbling through the deep snow off the path as the bird righted itself and screeched at him. With his leg bruised as badly as it was, he knew instinctively that he couldn't get away like that a third time.
No, he'd have to stand and fight... and for a moment, he doubted that anything less than divine intervention could save him now. He offered a brief prayer to Morwen, Dira, and whatever other beings happened to be listening, godly or otherwise, then turned and lowered himself into a fighting stance like his father had taught him long ago, fully prepared to fight back when the gargantuan bird inevitably came after him again.
And come it did.
