Post by .dragonsnap. on Aug 6, 2006 22:01:08 GMT -5
The wooded areas grew dimmer and dimmer as evening came to dusk. The shadows growing and the flames of the sun gone for the night. Only a few patches of brilliant color beamed through the canopy of the forest. He saw all that with his very own orbs. His tawny hide with spots on it twitched as branches ripped by and brush hit slots. His leaping run grew slower and slower as the ground began to flatten. Soon he was walking, his pistons squishing into the dewy mud. His branches above him V-ed into many sections, bowling adn pointing skywards. His tines were scraped and sharp as he moved forward. His panting breath loudly came into his hark as his barrel moved, swelling, unswelling, over and over again. He never gave up, never letting the stench of wolf get to him. But it was gone, giving him a freedom to think again, giving him freedom to regain self-control. The horrid stench was gone from his flaring nazals, leaving him the fresh scent f rain wafting in. he looked around, putting all his senses into high alert, listening intently for a few seconds, ntill he found it was safe enough to rest for a bit.
He thought, letting him conclude that he must be in deer territory. Leaving him to think what Solark would've done back there. He would have lowered his antlers and warned the wolf away, but the wolf caught him on surprise, and his instincts had kicked in, making him scramble up and down hills for hours. But now he was here, waiting and wondering, having patchy shadows dance across his brawny pelt. His breathing returned to normal, as he lowered his head inquisitedly to the glebe, scenting for any sign of Herla amongst him. A strong scent intoxicated the mud, but was faint in the ato. He wondered why. Droppings? Fur? Danger? But he couldn't make out why. That made him think more, making him walk further into the wooded area, letting flaura be, but fauna be crunched on. He reached up to a birch tree while meandering, taking a few leaves into his mouth to munch on. The taste sweet and lingering, but a bit bitter. He thought and thought finally giving up and going back to watching for anything.
The area around him was beginning to darken, and his round, luminous, soft zeniths checked the darkest areas for any danger down wind that he could not hear or smell. In the distance he could hear a chorus of howls from wolf canine brothrs, the ones he despised. He grunted, he hated those creatures, not liking the bristling fur to the clawed paws to the sharp teeth. The mouthful of leaves disappeared from his jowl, only leaving small green stains on his back molars. A hoot was heard above as a tawny owl fluttered between trees and swooped for a kill. He watched the usual sacrificing of rodent to owl be done, and later his small, slotted pedestals came down upon the blood of the small, deceased mouse. he knew the circle of life, and he was one of the others of deer at mercy to wolves. It was the way of life for them, but he despised it. Why should a wolf tear apart one larger than himself? It was strange but it made sense in a cause. Wolves need to eat, they eat deer, deer eat grass, grass 'eats' sun and water. It was the way of life, and he knew it, but why?
Autumn, oh the time of feasting, the time of preparation, the escape and vacation time for summer. The beginnings of winter, the first snow, the first frost, but it killed so many. But after winter comes spring, which is when breeding is, and then summer again, the relaxing and vacation time for everybeing. But that was all to end now as he knew it would, and he would have to make sure that he would survive this winter, and his coat be thick enough to last. His coat was quite thick, but thin in other places. Berryies were almost all gone, and he did not have quite enough fat to survive, but he knew that he would most likely end up chewing on tough bark to survive the last few days. Autumn, the escape plan for summer.
He thought, letting him conclude that he must be in deer territory. Leaving him to think what Solark would've done back there. He would have lowered his antlers and warned the wolf away, but the wolf caught him on surprise, and his instincts had kicked in, making him scramble up and down hills for hours. But now he was here, waiting and wondering, having patchy shadows dance across his brawny pelt. His breathing returned to normal, as he lowered his head inquisitedly to the glebe, scenting for any sign of Herla amongst him. A strong scent intoxicated the mud, but was faint in the ato. He wondered why. Droppings? Fur? Danger? But he couldn't make out why. That made him think more, making him walk further into the wooded area, letting flaura be, but fauna be crunched on. He reached up to a birch tree while meandering, taking a few leaves into his mouth to munch on. The taste sweet and lingering, but a bit bitter. He thought and thought finally giving up and going back to watching for anything.
The area around him was beginning to darken, and his round, luminous, soft zeniths checked the darkest areas for any danger down wind that he could not hear or smell. In the distance he could hear a chorus of howls from wolf canine brothrs, the ones he despised. He grunted, he hated those creatures, not liking the bristling fur to the clawed paws to the sharp teeth. The mouthful of leaves disappeared from his jowl, only leaving small green stains on his back molars. A hoot was heard above as a tawny owl fluttered between trees and swooped for a kill. He watched the usual sacrificing of rodent to owl be done, and later his small, slotted pedestals came down upon the blood of the small, deceased mouse. he knew the circle of life, and he was one of the others of deer at mercy to wolves. It was the way of life for them, but he despised it. Why should a wolf tear apart one larger than himself? It was strange but it made sense in a cause. Wolves need to eat, they eat deer, deer eat grass, grass 'eats' sun and water. It was the way of life, and he knew it, but why?
Autumn, oh the time of feasting, the time of preparation, the escape and vacation time for summer. The beginnings of winter, the first snow, the first frost, but it killed so many. But after winter comes spring, which is when breeding is, and then summer again, the relaxing and vacation time for everybeing. But that was all to end now as he knew it would, and he would have to make sure that he would survive this winter, and his coat be thick enough to last. His coat was quite thick, but thin in other places. Berryies were almost all gone, and he did not have quite enough fat to survive, but he knew that he would most likely end up chewing on tough bark to survive the last few days. Autumn, the escape plan for summer.
