Sex: FemaleIt wasn’t often when the Baranski lady would be outside of her pack lands, but now that her pups were five months, she found it almost impertinent that she begin to explore the lands that surrounded them. Their arrival to Hearthwood River had been during her pregnancy, and once arrived, she had not strayed far from the birthing den she and her mate and lovingly carved beside the river of their home’s namesake.
It was colder now – frost speckled the blades of grass as they began to die away with the warmer months. The leaves were a myriad of warm hues, and once more, winter would be upon them soon. Her features were unreadable as she loped along – the crisp honeys of her warm fur glinting in the sunlight, and her mind attempting to stay focused upon what she intended to do on this day – explore. Yet Maksim was at home injured with Lachesis doting his time upon her husband.. and Karpos had now taken reigns of the pack. She did not know the young Slayer well, but that did not mean she doubted him. But with this as a second time her mate had lost his crown, she could not help but wonder if the day would come when he would not be able to gain it back.
The day was young yet, and the she-wolf gave a gentle shake of her muzzle to eradicate her thoughts. Instead, her bright eyes would fall upon a bog. Kisla might have overlooked it in favor of gaining better bearings of where this Broken Timber Pines pack was.. but something from the corner of her eye interrupted her thought.
Glancing back to the bog, she saw it again – this time with clarity. A bubble, forming in the murky water, and popping.. and then another.
It was very rare that Kjors veered his way south on this side of the mountain, his ugly encounter with @Iopah and company still seared to his mind’s eye like a rancher’s cattle prod. Occasionally he drifted this way, but swung as far as he could from the Falls pack’s territory – they fought dirty, and he had no doubt in his mind that such heathens would be quick to assault him from behind even if he hadn’t broken any such rules. For this particular reason, he moved quickly – it was a hunt that had dragged him this far south in the first place, pursuing a young buck entering only his second winter. The animal was flighty, and while he seemed to be well fed, he was nursing a slight limp on a front limb. It seemed to be a recent injury, perhaps a simply sprain or strain that would heal within a few days, but Kjors would take his opportunities where they were given to him.
Much to his great surprise (and his utter distaste), the animal led him on a much further journey than he’d originally intended. It took hours to finally take the male deer down, well into the afternoon. Of course, he’d gorged himself after that particular hunt – a small male himself, it would be foolish to go into the winter with any less weight than he could comfortably carry, and this was the first harsh season in years he would not be forced to weather on his own. After the feasting came the cleaning of lips and limbs, washing the scent of blood from his body with his tongue, and once he deemed himself cleansed enough, he scavenged a limb from the animal. (Naturally, Kjors himself had eaten the softest parts, easy to access and ripe with protein, fats, and other nutrients. They’d spoil first, he reasoned, and he himself had made the kill. It was his right to hoard the deer’s treasure – it was only benevolence that he brought anything back for the pack’s caches at all.) He took a hind limb, there being much more meat on the prey’s haunch, and crunched his way through a few bones to make the prize easier to carry. It wasn’t light, after all, and it was quite a mouthful. Between its cumbersome nature and its mass, Kjors was slowed considerably on his way home, doing absolutely nothing for his paranoia as he tried to skate his away around Iopah’s territory and make his way back to Hearthwood River to deposit his kill.
This was how he found Kisla, standing near the edge of a bog – one he’d previously paid no mind to. Curiosity quickly overrode instinctual paranoia and the dragon veered in his course once more, trotting up to her side and placing the hunk of meat between them before casting his gaze out over the murky body of water. As he stood, it gave a large pop, a putrid smell released from the surface of the water as it continued to bubble. Wrinkling his nose, the dragon scowled. “Ew,” he decided, glancing over at the Queen. “…th’ hell y’doin’ out here? Nothin’ here t’ find. A’ th’ end of th’ day, yer another day colder. Ain’t no place fit fer a lady.”
Or a dragon, he thought angrily, snorting in the bog’s general direction. “Lemme take y’home.”
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She seemed to almost be placed in a trance as another large bubble surfaced and popped – the noise almost sickening and the smell even more so. She felt a flutter of discomfort pull at her chest.. as if something were terribly amiss and something was going to manifest itself from this abomination. Yet she could not tear her eyes away.. and somehow, as she stared at it for longer, the more rapid the bubbles seemed to roil to the surface and pop.
A noise startled her – a voice, more specifically, and while it was familiar, it did not stop the fright that clawed at her chest and caused her to jump. She attempted to clamp a yelp from her throat as she twisted, her figure crouching and ready to spring, her eyes wide as she stared at Kjors. Her heart hammered in her chest as familiarity settled over her, and exhaling out slowly, the tawny woman attempted to soothe her frayed nerves as she gave her pelt a quick shake.
She made no comment to point out how he obviously had startled – her guard hairs stood on end, and she remained silent for only a moment, her eyes studying his face. “Why is it doing that?” She had never noticed something like this before – and she suddenly felt ashamed at her lack of knowledge of the world around her.
sparking up my heart
Queer, it seemed, that even when he had no intention of meeting Kisla, he still managed to find the woman while he had food in his mouth. And while something instinctual insisted he offer her the haunch of venison, the dragon was able to stomp down the urge back into the dark little hole it’d crawled out of. Even if he was interested in baring himself in search of her favor (which was not what he was trying to do, it wasn’t, he didn’t need anyone’s approval), the horrible stench emanating from the bog was more than enough to put anyone off their dinner.
Realizing the Queen was still on edge, the swarthy male slithered closer, pressing the bridge of his nose beneath her jawline – affection, submission, whatever it was, it was a fleeting moment, there and gone in the the next breath. He’d not come to cause her any distress.
Kjors turned his attention to the waterway in question, ears rotating back as he gave it careful consideration. “Ah dunno,” he replied honestly, his tail swishing behind him in irritation. How it pained him to admit he’d no knowledge on the subject. “Smells sick, though. Like somethin’ dyin’. ‘er already dead. Dunno tha’ we wanna stick around, l--”
No. No no no no no. NO.
“--Lady Kisla.”
She was pulled from her reverie when she felt his touch – subtle and gentle, just beneath her chin. Her eyes found his face, her brows lifting in mild surprise before they smoothed once more. Kjors was not a wolf of touch – and so she was grateful that he seemed to sense her own unease at the bog and attempted to placate her.
His gaze drifted back to the murky waters and hers followed suit, watching once more as another bubble popped – roiling and disgusting. Lost upon her was his near-slip – her attention was completely captivated by the bog, and as the ubbles continued, becoming more steady, Kisla took a tentative step toward it. “Do you think it’s dangerous?” Of course, she did not imply that the bog itself posed a threat to them in that moment – but was it poisonous somehow? What was it that was making it do that?
“Only a year before I was born.. the water sources in Relic Lore dried up. It only became obvious later that there was a blockage on the mountain.” She paused, realizing her swarthy companion might not understand the relevance or her train of thought. “This can’t.. somehow find its way to our water sources, can it?” It seemed such a silly question the moment it slipped from her, but it did not stop her brows from furrowing in consideration. The bog was not linked to any fresh water sources – but what bogs bubbled like witches brew?
sparking up my heart
“Smells like death,” the dragon repeated, ears folded back against his head as if that might protect him from the putrid stench emanating from the bubbling bog. He could not quite understand the queen’s morbid curiosity with the thick, viscous liquid, strange as it was boiling away like that, until she voiced an event in her past. Something one of her parents (or former packmates) must have shared with her, given the timeline, but ah – he should have known. Kisla was a clever woman, and it was unlike her to fret over nothing.
It stood to reason that this strange spring might poison their own river if the water spread out from its source. With winter coming, it could be deadly for the pack that had only recently transplanted. Without water, they could be forced to move again, and in the harshest part of the year, no less.
“Dunno,” he answered honestly, one shoulder rolling in a half-hearted shrug. At least he’d given up his quest to return the woman home. “Could patrol the borders, make sure it ain’t leakin’,” he suggested, glancing about the makeshift shoreline. “Ask Naia t’ keep an eye on it after. ‘er one a’ th’ yearlin’s, if y’got plans for her,” Kjors advised, humming softly before picking up his head. It shouldn’t take that long to patrol, he figured, and it might put her mind at ease.
Her eyes drifted over the gloppy waters -- the putrid stench only becoming more powerful as another thick bubble popped. She snorted then, her paws beginning to track a bit always from it, though one ear flickered in acknowledgement to Kjors suggestion. "Perhaps Orren or Davin," she agreed then, not quite of the mind that Naia would need to place her time in this, given the Scout was usualy very busy keeping tabs on the local packs within their area.
Despite her intention to walk away, she felt unease settle upon her shoulders, and she cast one more glance to the bog. It was sickening, and she almost wished she hadn't come upon it -- her anxiety from the land far surpassed her fear of water itself, or of anything logical -- there was simply something unsettling about it.
Like she half expected some monster from the beyond to rise from it and snap its grotesque teeth toward them. Her gaze drifted back to Kjors then, knowing he must think she had finally snapped to the pressures of the world -- and blinking, she gave her slender muzzle a quick shake. "I can't explain it," she offered then, her eyes drifting back to the direction of the bog.
sparking up my heart
“Would be a good task ‘fer one a’ th’ boys,”Kjors agreed easily – much as he didn’t particularly care for the Queen’s second, the scout did have more pressing matters to attend to. Her skills were best utilized elsewhere. A bit of responsibility wouldn’t be remiss for either of the aforementioned yearlings, though the one-eyed beast had to admit he was glad the woman did not suggest her daughter for the task. The princess was entirely too delicate for such a matter.
When he paused and glanced over his shoulder, he realized Kisla was not departing alongside him to their castellated Hearthwood River, with its fresh water and many hidden dens, it was the perfect home for the dragon and his Queen. Nothing like this smelly, putrid place. What had fascinated her so much?
Ah – she was stuck. Kjors veered back towards the female and brushed up against her side gently, following her gaze out to the mysterious, bubbling bog. “Do y’need t’?” he asked, eyebrow raising as he turned his single sun onto the woman’s face. “Some things y’can’t explain. Th’ Mother does as she sees – doesn’ always make sense t’ us,” he tried to reason, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. But it didn’t seem that simple. It had to be more than a strange phenomenon of nature. “There somethin’ else on yet mind, Kisla?”
There was much on her mind -- but the brush of the dragon against her fur pulled her from her reveries, and with one last glance to a sickening 'blop' from another roiling bog bubble, she gave a quick shake of her muzzle, hoping to reassure her companion that all was well.
"Rest," she decided, and with a nod to their home, the honeyed woman pulled away from the dark man and to the direction of their home. Her pace was slow, and one ear would flicker back to the bog, as if she could still hear the squelch of putrid liquid the further they moved away from it.. it was something that would haunt her dreams, though she would not remember why.
She was silent during their travels back -- Kjors company did not require persistent prattle, and for that she was thankful. There was an easy companionship she found with the male, much to the dismay of her pack mates and husband. She trusted him, and the stolen glance she cast the one-eyed wolf beside her would reveal so to ay onlooker.
Once home, she would pull herself to the side of her mate -- her mind drifting back to the days when the rivers of Relic Lore had run dry for some time and the stories she had heard of the residents desperation.
Yet she would send no one to investigate the bog further.
sparking up my heart