Ruins of Wildwood
Bramble Falls bombs and cellos - Printable Version

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bombs and cellos - Sven - Jun 23, 2016

Read-only. @Skoll and @Craw for reference.
Backdated to 6/6. Clear weather, night time.

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There was a lot that the falls could hide. The erosion had exposed several hollows within the mountainside, perhaps belonging to a system similar to the one through which Sven had found @Sahalie. Primarily, they were only accessible through the falls. Driven by the need for a place utterly secret, the boy had discovered a narrow entrance hidden within the brush that managed to grow amongst the sparse earth. This high up, cold stone was everywhere, making the terrain inhospitable to both florae and fauna alike; it was perfect.


Crawling several yards through the tunnel led one to a cavern that possessed a low ceiling but impressive area, and no further outlet. At the far back of it, stacked with impeccable care, was a mound of cleaned and sunbleached bones. They were every bit his, not just gathered but hunted by the ghostly teenager. Those tracking skills he had developed to feed his family and make amends with his pack were not accumulated for those purposes alone.


Ever since they had discovered the boneyard amongst the red sea of ferns, Sven had wanted his own. Kept here, it could never be as glorious as the one that had inspired him, but he still held out hope that someday he could find a better arrangement while keeping it just as secret. That, after all, was most important; and it made him ache inside to know that no matter how awe-inspiring it was within his own eyes, he would never be able to share it. Especially with the wolf that had most made him feel comfortable inside of his own skin.


Sven entered his ghoulish domain to perch atop the pile his newest addition, a crowning gem he had been waiting for far too long to possess. His teeth gently set the skull down with utmost regard, and a few steps were taken backward to better admire the workmanship. Staring back at him were two mismatched ovals of blackness, the left socket fractured by his own paw. His pale eyes traced the curves of the bone, so nearly wolfish that it momentarily satisfied that darkest craving within him.


For now, a coyote was enough.


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