Post by Deleted on Oct 28, 2013 13:33:51 GMT -5
Exhausted paw steps crunched through dried grasses along the gentle slopes of the receding mountains. Greyed muzzle hung low, tail dangling lifelessly, a whisp of a wolf continued to trek onwards. Above, a single gull wheeled over him, surveying and scouting the land ahead. He had been gone so long: almost a year now, and without any means to communicate with his packmates.
Huxleyi paused for a moment, eyes searching the low lying forests for some point of familiarity. Nothing, he was still too far into the high hills. Shyia lay somewhere in the distance and he would find it again; hopefully a warm welcome would be awaiting him. Hux would not blame his pack if they chose to meet him with hostility, though he hadn't abandoned them, it surely could be seen as such. But if he had, why would he return, and why now? A sigh rippled up his throat, hoarse and dry, ending in a gruff cough.
A sound to his left startled him slightly, and he turned abruptly to see the beady black eyes of his avian companion gazing at him.
"Is there a problem Hux?" The small bird had been his only social companion for the last year and the two had developed an odd bond, the wolf owing the bird so much.
"No, I just needed a moment to try and get my bearings. Nothing seems familiar to me." Golden eyes were soft, and seemed worn, like the rest of him. Isna nodded, head bobbing before she took flight again, resuming her aerial sweeps.
Resuming his trek, Huxleyi ambled along trying to maintain a steady pace, and to ignore the ache in his belly. Hunting had not been easy on his own, and the deep mountains held little food other than the occasional vole, or severely lost rabbit. He was thin to say the least, and if it weren't for his thickening fur you'd likely be able to trace his ribcage. The poor scrawny wolf had had to live off the generosity of his kittiwake companion - she had been able to catch fish off the mountainside cliffs. What would usually feed one small bird had to feed an extra large wolf stomach, attached to an injured wolf. He had been on an information gathering mission, one which was supposed to only take him a week or so, but instead he had fallen down a dangerously tall scree slope and injured himself in more ways than one. Bruised ribs and hips, a twisted ankle, and a sore neck, HJuxleyi was left limping painfully through the tiny crevasses and valleys on the opposite side of the large peaks that bordered Shyia.
As winter set in he had to hunker down, there was no way he could travel in the snow and the storms, and Isna knew nothing of medicine like the shaman, Aludra. For all of winter they moved slowly, heading towards the ocean that Isna knew was there, and once they had found a safe place to call a den, the two remained there until the mountains had thawed considerably in mid summer.
All the rest of their time up until now had been spent travelling, heading towards the forests and beaches of Huxleyi's home.
It took another day before a sudden wash of familiarity startled the groggy wolf into conciousness. He could smell them! He could smell the borderline, and he could smell the wolves of Airila. His pace quickened, garnering a gravelly kaw from above him, and despite the aches of his muscles and the protests of his empty stomach he bounded along the rocky slopes, howling frantically, sounding a mix of relief, desperation and joy.
He stopped his manic skipping and froze, ears as high and forward as they could possibly be, straining for a reply, tail perfectly straight and stiff. He was panting heavily, gaunt flanks rising roughyl, his sudden burst of energy not mixing well with his malnourishment. They would come, they had to. And they would be happy, wouldn't they?
Huxleyi paused for a moment, eyes searching the low lying forests for some point of familiarity. Nothing, he was still too far into the high hills. Shyia lay somewhere in the distance and he would find it again; hopefully a warm welcome would be awaiting him. Hux would not blame his pack if they chose to meet him with hostility, though he hadn't abandoned them, it surely could be seen as such. But if he had, why would he return, and why now? A sigh rippled up his throat, hoarse and dry, ending in a gruff cough.
A sound to his left startled him slightly, and he turned abruptly to see the beady black eyes of his avian companion gazing at him.
"Is there a problem Hux?" The small bird had been his only social companion for the last year and the two had developed an odd bond, the wolf owing the bird so much.
"No, I just needed a moment to try and get my bearings. Nothing seems familiar to me." Golden eyes were soft, and seemed worn, like the rest of him. Isna nodded, head bobbing before she took flight again, resuming her aerial sweeps.
Resuming his trek, Huxleyi ambled along trying to maintain a steady pace, and to ignore the ache in his belly. Hunting had not been easy on his own, and the deep mountains held little food other than the occasional vole, or severely lost rabbit. He was thin to say the least, and if it weren't for his thickening fur you'd likely be able to trace his ribcage. The poor scrawny wolf had had to live off the generosity of his kittiwake companion - she had been able to catch fish off the mountainside cliffs. What would usually feed one small bird had to feed an extra large wolf stomach, attached to an injured wolf. He had been on an information gathering mission, one which was supposed to only take him a week or so, but instead he had fallen down a dangerously tall scree slope and injured himself in more ways than one. Bruised ribs and hips, a twisted ankle, and a sore neck, HJuxleyi was left limping painfully through the tiny crevasses and valleys on the opposite side of the large peaks that bordered Shyia.
As winter set in he had to hunker down, there was no way he could travel in the snow and the storms, and Isna knew nothing of medicine like the shaman, Aludra. For all of winter they moved slowly, heading towards the ocean that Isna knew was there, and once they had found a safe place to call a den, the two remained there until the mountains had thawed considerably in mid summer.
All the rest of their time up until now had been spent travelling, heading towards the forests and beaches of Huxleyi's home.
It took another day before a sudden wash of familiarity startled the groggy wolf into conciousness. He could smell them! He could smell the borderline, and he could smell the wolves of Airila. His pace quickened, garnering a gravelly kaw from above him, and despite the aches of his muscles and the protests of his empty stomach he bounded along the rocky slopes, howling frantically, sounding a mix of relief, desperation and joy.
He stopped his manic skipping and froze, ears as high and forward as they could possibly be, straining for a reply, tail perfectly straight and stiff. He was panting heavily, gaunt flanks rising roughyl, his sudden burst of energy not mixing well with his malnourishment. They would come, they had to. And they would be happy, wouldn't they?