Red Fern Forest eye of the beholder

For the regal @Iopah ~
Partly cloudy, 71F, early morning.

   

When sore paws and aching limbs finally demanded the loner stop, he all but collapsed among the soft bed of ferns, too exhausted (and entirely too startled) to do anything else.  His first interaction within the forests of Relic Lore had not been as smooth as the ginger wolf might have hoped, and it certainly hadn't gotten him any closer to finding his father.  Datura, he'd hoped, might be at least a little worried about him, and perhaps he'd come looking.  When they did reunite (and the yearling was certain they would – between the golden wolf's magnificent tracking abilities and the love the stars surely had for him), he would make sure to apologize to the older wolf, make sure it was evident how very much he did love his only parent.
 
Eventually, sleep did take him from these racing thoughts, and it was the morning's soft rays that woke Gilligan once more.  Firelit eyes opened slowly, observing the soft nest he'd fallen into – how well he blended in with the crimson cover thick across the forest floor!  As he stood, the eastern timber wolf found himself wondering if his father would like it too.  Honey would camouflage well in a field of permanent autumn.  Perhaps more importantly, the air was thick with the smell of prey.  His empty stomach growled just then, reminding the young wolf just how long it'd been since he'd eaten, and he decided to have himself a little hunt before returning to his journey home (temporarily unaware he'd run in the opposite direction he'd meant to travel in the first place).
 
Alone, Gil decided his best chance would be with a squirrel and the youth slunk back into the ferns, disappearing among broad leaves as he waited for one of the small rodents to find its courage and venture back down from its nest.

ah, almost forgot about her deal with squirrels... random character pet-peeve

She'd never forgotten about the wolves that Zia had warned about. In everything that had happened, both good and bad, the warning had never left her mind. The trio had captured a Bend wolf, then followed her back to her home after her escape. The reason was vague, and unimportant. They had been dangerous and determined, perhaps still were. Iopah had heard nothing since then. After leaving Jessie and Drestig to their disagreement, there had been no news since.

The lack of news could mean anything. The Bend wolves could have killed them, or they could simply be lying in wait. Watching. Iopah felt her eyes slid sidelong to scan the forest, almost unconsciously. She didn't like not knowing, especially not when her pack was so close to potential danger. There was nothing Iopah could do but keep her eyes open and search as far she dared.

Early morning found the pale woman venturing into Redfern Forest once again. It was the last place they'd been sighted and prey was plentiful if nothing else. At least she wouldn't return empty-jawed. A squirrel chattered furiously at her and the wolf glared up at the one species she'd been hoping to leave behind in the Thicket. Dark lips pulled back and it scrambled higher to shriek obscenities down.

She wasn't expecting to come across the scent of wolf, but wasn't terribly alarmed either. This young male did not match any of the descriptions she'd been given; still, her approach was cautious. Unhurried, she followed the trail till it lead into a particularly thick patch of fern, then paused with a forepaw hovering uncertainly. Were they hiding, or spying? Suspicion made her curious woof come out much rougher than intended.

   

When his potential prey began to babble angrily, Gilligan thought for a brief moment the jig was up.  If he was being honest with himself, he certainly wasn’t the hunter between himself and his father.  The large, golden animal was much more proficient tracker (only because he had at least two years of practice on him, the yearling reasoned), and was usually the one who provided for them.  If he were to play a role, the youth often flushed their animal from its hiding spot.  That wasn't to say he didn't relish the idea of making a kill himself – there would be no one to share his bloody morsel with.
 
Smiling devilishly, the adolescent coiled in his hidden nest of ferns, beady orange eyes studying the rodent as it continued its tired.  Clearly, his prey had no idea how close it was to its own doom.  All fine by him, he thought, beginning a slow belly crawl towards the tree.  It was survival of the fittest, Datura had something to that effect to him once, at least he was pretty sure, and the vagabond was just beginning to consider his plan of attack when a 'woof' startled him from his hidden position.  The lad jolted, and with it, he rattled the surrounded ferns, sending his squirrel dashing away as he was left to face his interrogator.
 
Poking his head up, the ginger offered the older animal a scowl before hauling himself to his feet, clearly uninterested in investigating the woman any further.  "Yo, I was hunting here," he complained, sparing one last glance in the direction his squirrel had scattered.  "The fuck was that for, anyways?  Wasn't doing anything wrong!  Just wanted one squirrel."

#R28-9

I went with the assumption Gilligan would have absolutely no human scent right now?

Certainly Iopah was expecting a wolf to emerge from the ferns, but she was still caught off-guard at the actual 'greeting'. However loosely that term could be applied here. Her gold eyes scanned up the height of him, in contrast to Gilligan's clear inattention of her. Ears twisted at the sharpness of his voice and her scowl matched his upon reaching the yearling's face. The pale woman took a step back. Insolent up-starts were not something she wanted any part of. In all of his charming demeanor, the presence of the collar went unnoticed.

Any half-hearted apology died long before reaching her lips. He was well within his rights to hunt here and she (as a fellow hunter) could certainly sympathize, but the boy would get what he deserved. Her lips were tight and pursed as she waited for his tirade to end. The gray pelage over her shoulders tingled, but didn't yet lift, as her clipped voice replied back. "There will be more squirrels." Assuming he had any hunting ability, the youth would be fine. Gold eyes went to peruse again, assessing said ability.

Whatever further questions she had planned, 'Why are you here?' or 'Are you travelling alone?', sputtered at the notice of the collar. It was a curious contraption, unlike any she had seen before. Iopah's experience with humans was with the gun-slinging and inebriated sort. This was something she had no connotation with. The cream and gray wolf moved sideways, paws deftly carrying her around to study it from another angle. "What is that thing?" Her curiosity was of the benign sort, the inflection of her voice would be the same if a unicorn happened to trot behind the two wolves. "Does it hurt?"

Shallow water has trapped several fish in a small pond. Hunt Opportunity

Ears flattened out further in a classic airplane formation, the yearling huffing a great sigh as he eyed the woman.  She wasn't wrong, he knew, that wasn't the only squirrel in the world, in the forest, or probably even in this patch of trees, but it was halfway caught already!  Gil would have to start his efforts all over again, and the youth didn't fancy that idea to any extent.  But before he could argue, the pale creature had approached with a hundred questions (with two, actually, but the boy was prone to exaggeration), and his lost prey was all but forgotten as he stood a little straighter, arching his neck so she might catch a better view.
 
"It's my star, yo" he told the older woman proudly – no doubt she could see the little red twinkle, despite the light of day.  The shadows would certainly help, but the heavenly body was all the more splendid once the sun fell behind the horizon and cast the earth into shadow.  "Everyone in my pack had one, you know.  Weren't allowed to have one until you were a fucking adult, but I got mine!  I got mine.  It's mine," he trailed off, voice growing softer as he reflected back on the very conflict that had led him to this place.  His father had tried to steal it from him and-
 
Well.
 
He was very much alone now, wasn't he?
 
Tipping his head to one side, he chanced a wag of his tail.  "Doesn't much hurt at all!  Was a little weird, when I first got it.  Heavy, yo.  But it's a damn part of me now…even if my dad don't like it much.  Pretty though, isn't it?" he sighed wistfully, wishing he could admire it himself.  Gilligan was perfectly unaware how foolish he sounded – persiflage was not something @Datura had ever taught him.

Yep, it's been a while so he wouldn't have the scent on him at all anymore.

(This post was last modified: Jul 24, 2015, 03:24 PM by Gilligan.)

#R28-9

It was his what?

Iopah stopped in her pacing and simply looked at him. She glanced up in the sky, then back down at the yearling. Her expression did not change. It looked nothing like what she considered a star. It looked like a growth. She'd never seen a wolf with a tumor (many did not live long enough to develop such things), but she had once killed an older mule deer with a grown on it's jaw. Her head tilted and she looked over the rest of him. She wasn't planning on eating Gilligan, but was wondering why he wasn't as emaciated as that doe had been.

The yearling continued talking; blathering throughout her quiet and macabre inspection. Her ears flicked at the familiar words, but for the most part it was nonsensical. Finally, she leaned back to give him belittling glance. It certainly wasn't a star, despite the strange light she could see. Perhaps it was a light-bug? Perhaps it was a special kind of cancer? That was the only way Iopah could make sense of what she was seeing.

Whatever it was, she didn't like it. The collar looked unnatural and, even without knowing it was human-made, she didn't like the different-ness of it. Her gaze was a little hard, tail lifting just a little bit higher. This wasn't something she wanted to linger around this forest. She started with: "It's...."  Iopah looked up at his fervent expression and trailed off. "Where did you get it?"

So that I can make sure to stay the hell away from that place.

   

"I—"
 
Gilligan glanced up, mouth shutting long enough for the yearling to observe the older wolf.  She didn't look the least bit impressed by his handsome star – if he didn't know better, the youth might think she disliked his collar as much as his father did.  The male's tail stilled as he tipped his head, trying to read the alpha's expression.  Alas, that was not something had ever been taught, not from the wolves before his father, and not something his emotionless father had taught, either.
 
"I got it…I got it when I became an adult, yo," he tried to explain, the ginger clearing racking his brain for the exact memory.  The Aquila heir did not much care for his youth (for his pre-Datura days), and often tried to pretend they didn't exist.  "The, uh, the whitewalkers, they give 'em to everyone.  Happens at night, maybe, can't remember, but you go to sleep, yo, and when you wake up, you got your fucking collar!  You got your little star, yo, and that means you're a damn adult.  S'all there is to it," the vagrant continued to explain, not really sure if he had the right of it.  The older wolves in his pack, they were able to explain it better, but it seemed like it had been eons since he'd last spoken to any of them.
 
But none of that was the where, was it?  "Not here.  Far from here.  South.  Many days.  Kinda a long trek – but they ain't lookin' for new wolves, I don't think."

#R28-9

start wrapping up? pretty sure Io's gonna try and drive him away in her next post

Yes, yes.

He got it when became an adult. That, incidentally, was the part of his last speech that Iopah had managed to put together. She continued the level stare as Gilligan reiterated that unhelpful bit of information. The Reinier woman knew she was not the most graceful speaker either and she tried for patience. That aside, Iopah was certain that she was more understandable than the youth in front of her. He was making no sense, despite the number of words he was using. She didn't know what a whitewalker was, presumably someone white that had learned to walk.

The conversation veered back into the acquirement of his... star. Iopah sighed, recognizing this chaotic tangent from earlier. She just didn't know what to do with this anymore. It was clear she was not going to learn any sort of details. It was also clear that Gilligan, despite his claims of adult-hood, was not any sort of threat.

She didn't even care where he was from any longer. It wasn't until the decision had been made to leave that something sparked her interest. Iopah paused with a foreleg raised to turn away. "What?" She asked sharply at the directions he gave. It was too much of a coincidence and she was not pleased by the prospect of news from her birth-place. "I didn't think there were still wolves there." The last she'd known the prey and wolves were gone and it was just the—

"What did you call them again? White walkers?" Perhaps this youth was a danger after all?

   

The sharp question gave the boy pause, backing up one step as the woman fixed him with a sharp glare.  For several heartbeats, Gilligan found himself speechless, tipping his head to one side as he tried to study the stranger.  She had been cold, this entire time, seemingly careless – all at once, she took a sudden, powerful interest in his story, and where he had been.  The ginger wolf narrowed his citrus eyes, nose scrunching as his mind raced.  Arrogant, foolish as the yearling might be, even he could sense the mood change between them like a crack of lightning.  Finding himself quite wary, he took another step backwards, and bobbed his head.
 
"Uh, yeah.  There's a big pack there.  I was the only cub in my year.  Some wolves died of sickness, so we left, yo.  I don't know…what happened after that.  But, yeah.  There's wolves."  Idly, he wondered if the pack dispersed in the thick of the winter, but that seemed rather unlikely.  The alphas seemed healthy, if nothing else, and even if subordinates often shifted, he didn't imagine the leading pair would be so quick to give up their claim.  Wasn't it the dream of every wolf, to one day be the head of his (or her) own pack?
 
But Iopah's voice demanded his attention once more, and the yearling pulled himself from his thoughts.  "Yeah, whitewalkers.  Because…they're really white, not like you, or me, yo.  Walk only on their two back legs.  They're really weird, yeah?  All over the place."

sounds good to me!

#R28-9