Sex: Female“Where are they going?” No one answered. “What are they?” Her voice sounded like glass chimes: lovely and a little sorrowful despite the innate loveliness (or maybe because of it). No sadness reflected in her eyes, though – just a sort of longing, like staring hard enough would entice wings to grow from her soft paws. “I want to know,” said Calla, squinting at the sky. Now and then a point of brilliant light flared past, as if stars had decided Earth looked like prime real estate. Stars didn’t move, though. They were points of fixed light, anchors for a rapidly developing perspective. Calla knew these fleeting lights must be new things, but wasn’t sure just what. The possibilities awoke an endless sort of wonder and a worried sort of dread. “Hmm,” whined the young wolf, and she stood and shook her white fur out and moved along below the racing lights, her sleek form dappled with the many grasping shadows of the trees. She paused a few strides out and glanced back toward the den and wondered – was it safe to go so far? And at night… Maybe best to keep close. Wary of whatever numerous, undreamt of things lurked far beyond her little world, she wove between familiar tree trunks with her nose up, eyes throwing off reflected light. She moved with purpose – in search of a thing, an answer to another question, one much easier than those first. While she moved the lights moved, too. They frightened her a little – though she wanted, too, to jump up into the sky and catch one in her mouth. She wondered if that wouldn’t leave her falling far away into the sky, though, and decided paws ought to keep down on the ground for now. There was, after all, more than one way to get up high… She found the thing she wanted jammed between two trees: a slanting trunk hung thick with moss and creeping vines, surrounded by the scent of dust and rot. It was a good smell, Calla thought – a reassuring, homey smell. She braced her front paws on the fallen tree and sniffed. It answered in a puff of dust, a crumbling of ancient bark. She pushed against it and small flecks of bark chipped off and then with a bound as free as sunlight Calla leapt up, brittle detritus flaying out from under her short nails. She made a rush of it: a single, smooth, precisely executed little dance along the ribs of something giant; moving fast left little room for fear. She stood a few wolf-heights off the ground when finally she stopped. Nose pointed down, she peered at shadows on the forest floor and then peered up into the night, where the dead tree’s space was empty and the meteors flared past in reckless splendor. She wanted to touch them. She wanted to figure out their secrets – like staring might reveal some mighty truth. She lifted up her nose and sniffed the night air, frowning, wanting to get higher up but hardly bold enough to leap into the sky. |
Random Event: <i>There is a meteor shower tonight.</i>
