Post by Roka on Feb 10, 2015 22:50:40 GMT -5
The time in this new land seemed to be passing faster than Roka could keep up. The weather was still cold enough to suit her, but Roka could almost feel the change in season on the wind. Her tundra had been cold enough that the difference in seasons was minute, going from cold to freezing and back to cold. She doubted the same was true of this place. It was barely cold enough for the snow to stick to the ground, yet this was as far north as this continent seemed to go. To damn hot here. Where the hell am I? The breeze was colder than anything else, keeping to the snow frozen, working against the sun. At full noon the sun was warm enough to make Roka uncomfortable to say the least. This climate was causing her to shed, and fast. Her once gloriously long winter coat was being replaced by a summer coat, one that she had never seen before. Her skin itched as it freed her fur causing her to scratch out large tufts of it at a time. Her hair litter the ground on the path she had taken, making a trail that led straight to her. She was sad to see her coat go, but at the same time she was happy for the coolness it brought with it. She was skinnier than she would have liked underneath her thick coat, but the abundance of prey in this area was a blessing. Still skinny. Too skinny. She didn't have to search too hard for her next meal, and it made the process of getting healthy again almost easy. She had come a long way since she had been shipwrecked on the shores of Anikira.
The estrangement at sea had caused her emaciated state, but the prey here was rich and hearty, teeming with nutrients. The prey in her precious Russian tundra had been scarce and thin at that, yet she had survived remarkably well. She was almost surprised that there were less predators in the area. Predators typically had an uncanny ability to sense an easy meal, but for the most part she had not seen any others of her kind. No cats either. Damn cats. Glad to be rid of the damn things. Sneaky, poaching bastards. She growled in frustration thinking about the creature that had scarred her face, and taken her sight. He had been a large brute, creeping up on her until he was close enough for her to smell. She had whirled around not even realizing how close he had been. His claws had torn her eye to shreds before she had the chance to fight. Nothing frustrated her more than the fact that he had taken so much from her, and she had never gotten the chance to hurt him. He had maimed her, eaten her meal, and then left her to die. She would have died, if the humans hadn't come to save her. They didn't normally trek into the tundra, but they had been tracking to cat for killing a child outside of Noril'sk. If they hadn't pulled her from the wild and nursed her back to health she would have ended up a carcass, frozen in the snow. That is how I ended up on the damn boat in the first place.
Roka pulled herself from her musings walking further along, leaving a large pile of hair behind her. It was the breeding season. She could feel the familiar pull of her heat, as it began to mount within her. She had never given in to the instincts to mate, but it got harder and harder to resist as time went on. She was in the prime of her life, yet she still resisted the prospect of motherhood. Her scar helped with keeping the males at bay, most were daunted by her large scar. Plus she hadn't encountered a male that would make her proud to carry his pups in the first place. Roka was a strong female of strong blood, and she would take nothing less of any brute who wanted to breed her. She did enjoy pups, but most of the time they were so damn curious and playful, she could only handle them in small doses. But those encounters had been few. She could feel the tension in the air, almost smell the desperation. It was the same every heat cycle. The females in a desperate scramble to breed and produce pups, and the males needing to soothe their aching nether regions. She was glad that she hadn't met with many wolves in this area, male or female. Her heat caused her to become aggressive and territorial, more so than normal. She did prefer her own company to that of others, but at the same time she didn't want to be fighting with anyone for no reason more absurd than hormones. She whined slightly wanting this heat to be over, it made rational wolves to irrational things.
Her blood was hot, and her mind cloudy as she continued on as if by instinct. She had always been a primal wolf, but the prospect of breeding made her almost feral. She began to pace to and fro, wearing the grass down in her trek. She needed to get past the worst of the heat and return to her usual self. She would need her head if she wanted to set herself up here. he needed to find herself a den and a patch of this meadow that she could claim as her own until it was time to move again. The constant shuffle and reshuffle of a loner. Moving there and back again. The only part of being in a pack she missed was the solidarity that it brought. Then again she did enjoy walking. It cleared her head, which was essential when you were as hot tempered as Roka. I need to walk this off, need to keep my head. Damn heat gets me worked up twice a year. I just want it to end.
The estrangement at sea had caused her emaciated state, but the prey here was rich and hearty, teeming with nutrients. The prey in her precious Russian tundra had been scarce and thin at that, yet she had survived remarkably well. She was almost surprised that there were less predators in the area. Predators typically had an uncanny ability to sense an easy meal, but for the most part she had not seen any others of her kind. No cats either. Damn cats. Glad to be rid of the damn things. Sneaky, poaching bastards. She growled in frustration thinking about the creature that had scarred her face, and taken her sight. He had been a large brute, creeping up on her until he was close enough for her to smell. She had whirled around not even realizing how close he had been. His claws had torn her eye to shreds before she had the chance to fight. Nothing frustrated her more than the fact that he had taken so much from her, and she had never gotten the chance to hurt him. He had maimed her, eaten her meal, and then left her to die. She would have died, if the humans hadn't come to save her. They didn't normally trek into the tundra, but they had been tracking to cat for killing a child outside of Noril'sk. If they hadn't pulled her from the wild and nursed her back to health she would have ended up a carcass, frozen in the snow. That is how I ended up on the damn boat in the first place.
Roka pulled herself from her musings walking further along, leaving a large pile of hair behind her. It was the breeding season. She could feel the familiar pull of her heat, as it began to mount within her. She had never given in to the instincts to mate, but it got harder and harder to resist as time went on. She was in the prime of her life, yet she still resisted the prospect of motherhood. Her scar helped with keeping the males at bay, most were daunted by her large scar. Plus she hadn't encountered a male that would make her proud to carry his pups in the first place. Roka was a strong female of strong blood, and she would take nothing less of any brute who wanted to breed her. She did enjoy pups, but most of the time they were so damn curious and playful, she could only handle them in small doses. But those encounters had been few. She could feel the tension in the air, almost smell the desperation. It was the same every heat cycle. The females in a desperate scramble to breed and produce pups, and the males needing to soothe their aching nether regions. She was glad that she hadn't met with many wolves in this area, male or female. Her heat caused her to become aggressive and territorial, more so than normal. She did prefer her own company to that of others, but at the same time she didn't want to be fighting with anyone for no reason more absurd than hormones. She whined slightly wanting this heat to be over, it made rational wolves to irrational things.
Her blood was hot, and her mind cloudy as she continued on as if by instinct. She had always been a primal wolf, but the prospect of breeding made her almost feral. She began to pace to and fro, wearing the grass down in her trek. She needed to get past the worst of the heat and return to her usual self. She would need her head if she wanted to set herself up here. he needed to find herself a den and a patch of this meadow that she could claim as her own until it was time to move again. The constant shuffle and reshuffle of a loner. Moving there and back again. The only part of being in a pack she missed was the solidarity that it brought. Then again she did enjoy walking. It cleared her head, which was essential when you were as hot tempered as Roka. I need to walk this off, need to keep my head. Damn heat gets me worked up twice a year. I just want it to end.