Hush Meadow jesus the mexican boy

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>god I apologize for making you wait so much every time :C</li></ul></span>
Luckily, the girl was strange enough to accept his name without a titter or giggle, which would have confused Kiche. Those he had shared his name with had the good graces — or maybe the ignorance— to overlook the ridiculousness of the nickname his humans had given him. Vlarindara had given him the smallest of looks, perhaps, but she had said nothing. The poor saint had no idea how stupid he looked masquerading around in the pet name he had worn as a child in a human world. All he knew was that felt familiar and safer, it felt like he was letting someone in. But that raised a red flag. Suddenly, Kiche was wary of himself, of this openness that had snuck into his soul when he hadn't been paying attention. He didn't trust this feeling. Especially not since... not since Aisling. No, he wouldn't think about that. So caught up in the muddled emotions that whorled and roiled in his stomach, Kiche did not catch the fleeting smile on the girl's lips. A shrug was the only response he could come up with, not believing his motives to be particularly sweet. It was out of need that he taught the pups —he needed them, and they needed God.

"<b>Could you...</b>" As quickly as he had opened his mouth, he snapped it shut, no longer sure of what he had been planning on saying. There were five thousand thoughts bouncing off the walls of his skulls, thoughts of Aisling, thoughts of the puppies, of being a teacher. He was an awfully poor teacher, now that he thought about it. His faith was so worn and shattered and he was only just beginning to pick up the pieces. And what else did he really have to offer the children besides that? He could not track, it appeared, and he didn't know if he had it in him to kill. But before him stood a perfectly good heathen... and... he could be a good student. Parting his jaws again, he whispered, "<b>Could you teach me... how to hunt?</b>"
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It's fine! I've got a semi-low muse, sorry.

Pakuna tilted her head, gazing at the interesting wolf. He
seemed to be lost in thought. Out of nowhere, it seemed,
he suddenly asked if Pakuna could help him learn to hunt.
She was still in a bit of disbelief that he didn't know how to
hunt animals. She nodded her dark head before turning
away from the wolf. " 'Spose I can." she said, turning
her head back to him. Her sharp green eyes gazed at him
before she began to walk forth.


"Oi, Fatman, come along." she rumbled, not looking
back at him. She lowered her nose to the ground, taking in
the scents that the dead grasses had to offer. A strong odor
of rabbit made her tail wag for a moment before she looked
to Kiche. "Smell here. Tell me what animal it is." she
said calmly, smiling softly at the wolf. She patiently waited
for him to come forth and test the brown grass. The scent
appeared to be a half hour old, and here eyes could make
out the faint tracks of the creature.

<blockquote>
She was so brief, so matter-of-fact —a stare, a nod, a response. Her succinct, blunt manner was off-putting to a man who was much more accustomed to lectures, righteous speeches, and unasked chronicles of a lifetime. While it was frustrating to stand on the other side of the wall that kept him from her thoughts, unable to catch even a glimpse behind the veil, he could at least be content that she wasn't throwing herself at him. The dark, earthy female's withdrawal, while alluring, was refreshing. It was also much easier to deal with conversationally, there being less dialogue for him to process and fumble to find the words to respond with. Instead of beginning a very long, confusing explanation and appeal that would make his circumstances —which she couldn't possibly understand at any rate— clear to her, all he had to do was follow. Sharply, he inhaled, drawing all the gumption that was left to him, and trotted off after her summons.

Kiche, so lost in this new lesson, was attempting to pay attention to so much that he hardly notice that Pakuna had stopped short. The saint only barely managed to reel himself in before bumped into her, although he immediately jumped back, feeling as if he was invading some sacred personal space. His cheeks burned hot. Lowering his snout into the dried, dead grasses, he took a deep breath. The scents that tickled his glistening, wet nose were musty, dirty, stale. This smell was so cloying and dusty that he winced and withdrew his nose with a violent sneeze and a gag. He couldn't have told her what animal it was, but he figured it couldn't hurt to venture a guess. "<b>I... I don't know... Caribou?</b>"
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Pakuna's eyes enlarged when the wolf answered. Caribou?
The she-wolf didn't know how to react for a moment. She didn't
have the urge to laugh, nor scowl- it was a feeling of pity. She
seemed to glower for a moment, her head low towards the scent
so the Fatman would not see it. Lifting her head, her pale green
eyes looked to Kiche. "Nay" she said, air expiring forcefully
from her lungs. She lifted a brow, head tilting upwards, gazing
at the wolf. Was this a joke? Was he just messing around
with her for his own sick amusement?

Ears flattened against her skull as her tone grew more serious
"Fatman. That scent ye followed earlier that brought ye to me"
she said, nodding at her own words "It be rabbit, 'member?
Had it in me mouth, I did. Ye tried to claim it fer yer own. This is
what the scent be. A mere bunny."

The wolf released a slight chuckle at her own words, but then
she hushed herself. She stepped forth, right front paw gingerly
pointing at the rabbit tracks ahead "These be its tracks. Nutin'
like a caribou." She stepped back now, so she was next to
Kiche. Craning her dark head 'round, she nudged his flank.
"Follow the scent, Fatman."

<blockquote><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'><ul>slight powerplay just to move this along.</li></ul></span>
Pakuna floated somewhere between disappointment and disbelief, amusement and pity, although she hid it well from him. Expectantly, <i>hopefully</i> the ginger male watched her, waiting with a tentative, tight-lipped smile on his face for her answer. His tail, a neglected tapestry of woven dun and red, rose gradually, was encouraged to beat the air in an earnest tempo. But her answer was not the one he had wanted, it was a definitive, brusque <i>nay</i>. Although he was unfamiliar with that particular word, her sigh seemed to make it impossible for him to pretend it was an affirmative. His heart sank. Visibly, his shoulders drooped —it appeared that he had invested more in this goal than he had realized. The incredulous stare on the callous face of his companion stung, though he couldn't understand what she meant by it. All he could muster was a shrug and a frustrated sigh.

When his teacher explained that it was a <i>rabbit</i> that he was supposed to smell, her tone waxing austere, his ears swiveled backwards. "<b>Oh,</b>" he said dumbly. He should have <i>known</i> that it was a rabbit. Exasperation welled up inside of him, flooding his stomach with nausea. <i>Why is this so hard for me? She can do it!</i> Every heathen could do it... It was only Kiche who seemed to be having difficulties with this. Even the <i>children</i> were capable of better. Shame flattened his ears completely, and his tail sank between his legs.

The dust-hued woman reached out with a paw and indicated the tracks. He hadn't noticed them —that stung. To be sure, there was no way he could confuse the narrow, light-pressed marks in the thin and fading snow with the clunky, heavy steps of caribou. But when Pakuna asked him to follow them, to follow the scent with a gentle push at his rump, he balked. Gazing back at her uncertainly, he was overcome with frustration and self-doubt. He was so <i>stupid</i> and this was so impossible! "<b>I... I can't do it.</b>" But for some reason, he tried anyway. Upset and disheartened, his proceeded with the caution and care of a child throwing a temper tantrum. His muddy feet fell carelessly, heavily on the packed earth and snow.

Five minutes later, he found himself back where he started. Whirling around on Pakuna, he exclaimed, "<b>I give up! This isn't going to work. I suck and I'm hopeless.</b>" He collapsed in a discouraged heap on the ground, making sure to fall as roughly as he could.
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(This post was last modified: Mar 14, 2012, 10:37 PM by Kiche.)

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Pakuna followed steadily behind the wolf as he attempted to
track the small furry critter, but they had just gone in a small
circle. When Kiche turned around, exclaimed his defeat, and
plopped down, Pakuna felt as if she were to tear his pelt right
off his back. She bit her tongue in an impetuous attempt to
keep herself from cursing. "Fatman" she grumbled, her
eyes like daggers. "If ye don't believe in yerself, I'm not
wastin me time."


She was being brutally honest, as her mother had always
taught her to do. Inside, she hoped that she wasn't hurt-
ing the wolf's feelings, but she just had to tell the truth.
"Where ye from, anyway? Why don't ye know how to
hunt?" she felt as if she was interrogating him, but
now, she did not care- at all.


The earthen toned woman circled 'round the younger
wolf, her facial expression betwixt and between that
of frustration and that of pity. Her tail was lax; it hung
limply, not wagging or swaying. This was so frus-
trating, and she did not know what to do. This wolf
seemed....childish. It was the only description she
could think of. His actions, his words- it seemed like
he was still a pup.

(This post was last modified: Mar 14, 2012, 11:41 PM by Pakuna.)

<blockquote><ul><span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>I think I’m going to pull Kiche out now. It was nice threading with you :D We can have them get together later when I’ve got less threads. You can post once more if you want, before I archive it.</li></ul></span>
“<i>If ye don’t believe in yerself, I’m not waistin me time.</i>”

The realization was like a slap in the face: he had run out of faith entirely. He couldn’t even believe in himself. As if the saint were deflating, he sank deeper into the ground. There was nothing left for him to believe in. There was no point in anything. Suddenly, his attempts to assimilate with the heathens seemed laughable –ridiculously laughable. How could he have been so <i>stupid?</i> Kiche was a man –not a wolf. Men didn’t hunt. Even if they did, Kiche wouldn’t be able to. He wasn’t cut out for this –any of this. Shame and self-loathing began to seep into the cracks of his disfigured, irreparable heart, and he felt as though the world were rejecting him. This place, this <i>horrible</i> place of dirt and trees and snow was not where he belonged… and yet he could not leave. There was no home left for him back in civilization.

Pakuna’s prying questions were chisels that dug into the fissures of his soul, cracking it open completely. Suddenly he didn’t want to answer any of her questions. The Saint of the Hollow pulled back inside of himself, hiding from the world and these difficult questions that he couldn’t share with anyone. No one would understand. What did it matter if they knew he had lived, laughed, and loved amongst the humans? It changed nothing. Jaded and frustrated like a sullen adolescent, Kiche stumbled to his feet, shrugging violently. “<b>Well don’t worry. You won’t have to waste your time on me any more.</b>” Without any further goodbye, the saint shouldered his way through tall grasses, wandering aimlessly back to dank hole in the ground where he lived.
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