The Wildwood Never Be Afraid to Grow

live your life, be true and never be afraid to grow... July 17th; Late morning; Partly Cloudy — 72° F/22° C Oh... Oh, oh... All this time and he had been slacking off. This place should have been the first location on his mental list of stops, but, really, he had a heart (and, who wouldn't, if one had a chance to be rendered into an actual physical form - especially one that could fly about and soar to their heart's content?) to reach out to the wolves who currently inhabited Relic Lore. The raven made haste as he woke up for the morning, stretching his wings and immediately flying towards the Heart of Relic Lore. The Wildwoods. The further the ink-black bird flew, the more he noticed just how well the forest had managed until he reached a certain point, where the ground was still charred. Here, the trees had not survived. Their trunks were still black from the root up, and some of them, from the recent winter, had managed to topple down, breaking at their weakest points and splitting in half. The messenger came to land on the scorched soil; his feet could have disappeared completely against the ground if he hadn't properly been looking. Actually, from a far, being as dark as the sky in the middle of the night, he might as well have been invisible - or, really, camouflaged. He lowered his head to touch his beak to the soil. It was damp from the recent storms, but it wasn't water this forest desperately needed. After making sure that he had not yet been spotted, he took flight, and when he returned, hours later, he carried in his beak a small cluster of seeds. They rustled against one another as he flew and clacked together as he landed with a few flaps of his wings. Carefully, he placed his treasures on the ground, sorting them out from one another in a neat, singular line. Elm, he pushed the flat, almost paper-like seed away from the pile. Mulberry, maple, he lined up a "winged" looking leaf-like thing next to the elm seed, then placed a cluster of seeds that look like a blackberry up along side it. Two birch pods, he caught something out of the corner of his eye and hopped over to pull another birch seed pod over to his pile. Some lesser songbird must have thought to carry it somewhere but failed to keep hold of it in the summer wind. His chest puffed up proudly, Three... One, two, three-four, five-six, and nine. Not bad... for a quick "fly-around" of the surrounding areas. He would have liked to have an oak tree or Empress tree (which was primarily native to the streams that made up the hub of Heartleaf Creek) in this part of the Lore, but knew better than to hope that a water-loving forest giant could sprout in a place without a nurturing water source nearby. Now, to find places for each of these trees-to-be. Hmm. He hopped in a circle around his line-up of kernels. But first, the raven decided to reorganize his collection again.

(This post was last modified: Jul 17, 2014, 06:52 PM by Spirit of Wildwood.)

The Tainn woman had been out of sorts, sick with something of a cold. Her body had fought it and at long last, she was back to her spirited self. With Mirren's doting and care, it felt like no time at all before she was on her feet again prepared to dive into her task. The woman had a goal that had been put on pause due to her brief run in with illness... but now that it was gone, so too was the pause button. alerting her mate, Kite Tainn prepared to take off. It took some convincing (I will be fine... yes, I am feeling up for it... I'm feeling much better!), and she left in the night to arrive late morning to the Wildwood. Kite remembered the magical feeling it seemed to have... it had eluded her largely the last time, but she thought she had felt something. Kite did not know of or believe in magical things, having never encountered it. But here, she had some sort of feeling. Mirren had distracted her from it, as he distracted her from most everything (his presence was dominating, and when with him she could scarcely focus on anything but him)... but she wondered if she would be able to sense that strangeness again.

Kite looked around for her crow. He had been around, but not often; her sickness had left her unable to help him scavenge off her successes, and she wondered if he had gone altogether. Her eyes were to the sky initially, but there was no inky dot there to betray his presence. Kite wondered if birds had loyalty. She had always considered the critter her own... the duo had stuck together the entirety of her journey here. But maybe he had gone.

In the distance was a raven counting seeds. She had yet to take note of it...

live your life, be true and never be afraid to grow... Somewhere to his right, the soft rhythmic footfalls of padded paws had caught the raven off-guard. He stopped organizing his little hoard immediately, his beady black eyes staring through the trees until he finally spotted the wanderer, ambling about with her eyes to the sky. The bird couldn't help but to hum a note in the spirit of inquiry. Most wolves, he knew, often had their gaze fixated on the tree tops or the stars or the clouds; but, on a rather ordinary, gray cloud-filled morning, and with him being on the ground, he couldn't possibly figure out what the canine was looking for. He was about to call out to her in question (even if she wouldn't be able to discern or decipher any word he might have said) when he thought of something. Very true to his nature in being the clownish, goofball of a corvid, he hopped about and tittered to himself, absolutely pleased with the idea that had just struck him. Once he had reoriented himself and quickly ushered his line of seeds into a small, colorful pile, he fluttered over in her direction. He only stopped once he had found a charred tree root not far from where the young lady was going and perched there, straightening himself up so that he might be immediately seen against the razed grounds of the Wildwood. He angled and tilted his head this way and that, as though he were trying to perceive her with just his right eye and then just his left. He looked at her paws, scrutinized the length of her forelimbs and pondered the strength that laid beneath the agouti fur on her shoulders. One glance around told - or, rather, suggested to - him that if he didn't stop her now, he was going to be doing all the work himself. He mustered up enough courage to find his voice, and when he did, the sounds that flew up from his ink-black beak came out in two broken "words" that should have been "Ex-scooooose m-me?" In reality, however, and especially to lupine ears, what she heard was something more like: "Awwww-waaaaawk?"

There are so many birds in the world, she found herself thinking. But Kite had always been sure of her bird. When the sun rose and she traveled, she could find him. In the times she could not hunt alone on her way here, he had led her to left-over morsels. In turn she repaid him with her own hunted meals, now that she had the strength and the power to do so. It pleased her that she could repay him that way; but she had never expected it to end. Still, it had only been a—A familiar, crowish sound registered then, and Kite's head whipped in the direction of the avian. Her tail waved. She in no way was an expert in understanding their very different language, but in her time with her bird, she had learned some things. When there was a predator nearby, for example. Or when the weather would be worse than expected. When help was needed, and when attention was demanded.

Kite scrutinized the bird before her without an ounce of predatory intent in her being. Was this the bird that she had traveled with...? No, likely not; hers had a different way of summoning her attention... but still, in their time apart, maybe it was her bird seeking to see if it really was her after all this time. The Tainn licked her chops and watched it, nodding, as though to say, go on. She was sure she would know soon enough if this bird knew her, too. Did birds remember...?

live your life, be true and never be afraid to grow... Well, that seemed to do the trick, but something was different this time around. He had expected her to look at him oddly or shoot him a rather strange and startled look, but instead she immediately looked for him, looked at him... with a wagging banner of a tail. She eyed him in a way that made him second-guess himself about whether or not he should make himself scarce and come back for the seeds tomorrow. It took every fiber of his being to remain, well, rooted to the root beneath him. He was glad he had stayed; if he had taken off, he would have missed the expectant stare in her eyes, the interested nod that suggested that he continue on with whatever he meant to ask now that he had her full, undivided attention. She continued to eye him, and as mortal as he was, he fumbled about, awkwardly bumbling around so much that he had toppled over and off of his perch. He let out a startled, "ACK!!" Though once he had recovered himself, he spread out his wings to steady himself on the forest floor. He looked up to the attentive young lady, then proceeded to chirp at her a number of times, waddling forward to where he had left his precious treasure, unguarded and out in the open. When his beak next parted, it seemed to come out in a question as the rather excited, almost "chuckled" notes curled upward on the scale, "Ahk-ahk-ahk-awaw?" He staggered back between two blackened tree trunks, spreading his wings as he looked back at her in hopes that she would come along.

When he was on the floor, Kite measured him. His proportions were different. Perhaps this was not her crow. But even still, she could go about things no differently now. Perhaps he would see her crow and share news of the wolf who took interest in it in a way that it did not meet its untimely end. Kite chuffed as he emitted more noises, behaving as though she understood. And in a way, she did. He was going to take her somewhere. Kite moved slower than he did, knowing she would outstride the creature in a single step. Her head was low, level with the body of the bird, her eyes upon the feathered raven, wondering what it was he wanted. Ah, she would find out soon.

As he spread his wings, Kite took another step. Her eyes flashed, and she pawed the earth gently. I am coming, her body told, and her ears leaned slightly forward. Kite was listening, trying to interpret, to understand. Perhaps he had already told her everything just then, and she did not even know. Kite murmured, Do you understand what I am saying? Pondering if he could. It might make things easier if he could; but if he could not, she supposed they would find a way. She and her crow always had managed to; she did not think it would be too difficult to figure things out here, with this bird, who was very expressive. That in itself was helpful... it would aid them in whatever was to be done.

live your life, be true and never be afraid to grow... She spoke to him then and the raven let out a simple "Rawk," before toddling away. He hopped and skipped back to where his small pods and seeds laid in a pile, then made a quick circle around it. From the looks of it, one might have likened him to a puppy wanting to play. His tail feathers waggled about as he gaze back up at Kite, still chirping and singing a song of happy nonsense. The raven stared down at his seeds then, quickly sorting them out once more. Birch pods there, mulberry tree here... He chanced glimpse up at Kite's face, hoping that she would be patient while he organized it it all. Maple, elm... Hmm. His eyes went back to his companion and he did a silly little dance, Pick one, pick one, pick one? He then spun about in a circle, cawww-ing at her before practically squeaking. He wanted her to help him... was asking if she could help him. Scrawny and spindly, little raven claws were not suitable for digging, nor was his beak any good for making holes in the seared earth. Kite's paws on the other hand... Oh, how he hoped she would oblige. His wings were tucked close to his body before he extended his right wing, hoping to direct her eyes to the seeds he had gathered. The Great Wildfire in the summer of 2010 had left the wolves of Hidden Tree, Relic Lore's first wolf pack, homeless and parent-less. He cast his gaze towards the old tree the distance, where Lani and Rihael had perished, then looked up at the woman. This had been a long time coming and it had been a wonder how he had not been able to see the damage with actual seeing eyes. The forest for the most part had healed itself or avoided the area completely, but this part of the Wildwood, he desperately wanted to save, if only to pay homage to the very wolves who had started it all. He just wanted this place to be habitable again. To be alive again as it had once been before the storm.

She took the squawk as a yes. She followed him. Even if he had been silent, she would have continued to do so; she was already devoted to whatever this was. The bird seemed far more pleasant than her own, which she had failed to give a moniker. This one even seemed... happy. Could birds have dispositions? These were the questions that came to Kite in this moment, and then she observed him observe... seeds. Kite had learned some of seeds, but never of what to do with them. Her father had told her that they helped things grow. How... well, that was never explained to her. And they certainly never buried any seeds. She followed the line of his wing and looked to the seeds again.

She tilted her head. She was not sure what he wanted her to do with them, and so she looked back to him again. A low, questioning whine fell from her, curious as to what he needed from her then. It was clear he had accepted her presence, clear he needed something... but what? The she wolf licked her chops, wondering what it was he desired her to do. Kite had not learned of this places history, but suddenly again she could feel a peculiar something. She stiffened and her eyes moved to the trees, before falling back to him. Nothing. It was nothing. Kite discarded the feeling, even though she had practically come here for it... the bird, the bird was more important here.

live your life, be true and never be afraid to grow... The canine gave him the most perplexed look, whining when she sounded out that she did not understand. He blinked up at her, puzzled and dumbstruck, himself, when it came to him that wolves usually - or, generally, for the sake of a more appropriate word - had no interest or business in the distribution of seeds or pods or even plants and flowers. His beak parted and for a while he kept curling his tongue, wracking his small brain for how to explain to Kite what he would like her to do, how she could help and be a crucial part of his project. "Ah-ah-awk-ahaaa," he seemed to "sing" as his gaze seemed fixated on the tips of the wolf's forepaws. Just like before, the thought struck him again. "AHA!" he sounded, expanding his wings and gracelessly toddling over to a different tree. He flapped around a bit, landing on a broken tree branch at first before perching on a fallen log and scouring the ground. Eventually he came hopping back like a common thrush. In his beak he brandished a decent-sized twig that still had a leaf attached to one end of it. Angling his head and trying hard to coordinate his movements, he tapped the bare, broken end of the twig into the ground, scoring a shallow line into the ground. Once he had done that, he looked up at Kite, his tail feathers wagging. "Erk?" he tried, bringing the twig to drag along the minuscule trench in the earth. Making one more attempt in trying to ask her to help, he snatched up the winged maple seed in his beak then, awkwardly, with his right taloned foot, he tried to dig a very shallow hole before dropping the pod in the area his feet had just been in. "Erk?" If he could at least get her to dig a decent hole in the ground, just once (or maybe twice), maybe this one deed would be enough, and maybe come next year, there would be a trace of a thriving seedling in its place.