Turtleback Lake warmer weather causes more turtles to be born female than male

Yee. First posts are so awkward.

He stood on the shore of the lake, his heavy forepaws submerged into the cool water and blue eyes resting on one of the islands. The gentle drip of rain broke the lake's smooth surface with small ripples, as many more droplets collected along his skull and spine, but though he felt the dampness on his snout, he was warm and dry beneath his groomed coat.

The breeze was gentle, and Rehgar lifted his nose into it, breathing in the rich petrichor and the wisps of the woods that rose from the backs of the 'turtles'. One ear turned toward his tail, to the clacking of branches as a squirrel climbed from one tree to another. The other was pivoted forward with interest, for the breeze smelled not only of timber, but of elk.

He strode forward until the lake lapped at his broad chest. Extending his neck, Rehgar lapped languidly at the water, as if he might taste where the ungulate had swam across that morning. But he could not, and even as his tongue continued to reach into the lake his curious gaze held on the islands, accompanied by a soft whine. He had not eaten elk in a long time, and he pined for the meat, and for the full belly that came with having one's fill.

The world was but a shell now, or so it seemed – Maksim’s untimely death had all but taken the breath from her own lungs, and Kisla had spent days within their old shared den, curled in upon herself and seeing no one. Traces of his scent were still detected, even after his death, and the tease of nostalgia and reminder of her recent widowed-status all but brought her to her knees in tears each time.

She did not eat – she did not sleep, for her dreams only spoke of him and her loss. She could not aide her children and what they must be going through – Kisla Baranski all but failed.

And so she strode out of the den one day, determined it would be the last time she set foot in to it. The happy memories of raising their second litter in the den by the river were only replaced by the months of Maksim’s lingering sickness – and then the quickness of his death.

Kisla made her way past the borders, skirting past any familiar scent she had come by in the interim. She did not wish to talk to anyone – to mourn her husband. For now, all she desired was solitude, and an escape from her haunted memories.

The lake was quiet this day. Serene even, though her bright eyes caught gaze of a stark ivory form among the lake shores. She hesitated for only a second – her mind instantly questioning whether or not it was Lachesis before her, though the wolf was far too large. She spoke nothing – instead, defeated, she stood still as a statue, feeling the tremor of her loss quake through her body once more, as words failed to come to her to even announce her once regal presence to another.

sparking up my heart

He raked the water in front of him with one large paw, his chest heaving as he expelled a great sigh. Not since he had dispersed from his natal pack had the white wolf's stomach been swelled with meat. Hares and gophers, grouse and other such small fare had become his diet; his successful hunting had maintained his muscle and his fat, but never had his meal been so great that he had been forced to lay in the shade beneath mighty boughts to sleep it off. It was a small pleasure that he missed. The lone wolf life was not for him; he felt too much like the deer that needed to browse all day to get enough food and not enough like the wolf that took down the mightiest of prey when running alongside his brothers and sisters.

Slowly, Rehgar backed out of the lake and stood dripping on the bank, his blue eyes now drifting away from the islands and roaming the arc of the shoreline. The wind blew from across the lake into his face; in this way he knew of the elk on the islands but went unaware of the other wolf until he turned and saw her. She was a pale, slender agouti, and his nose lifted to catch her scent, but from here her scent could not be had. His tail waved slowly behind him as he chanced several paces toward her, his ears perked with interest. Though his stature was grand he bore himself with amiable gentility, and he woofed a quiet, hopeful greeting the invited her to come toward him.  

(This post was last modified: May 23, 2016, 06:15 PM by Rehgar.)

The wolf caught sight of her – her form remained still as she studied him, curious of his actions. The wolf was youthful – but seemingly filled out more than her yearling daughters. His eyes were bright – even from the distance, she could see that they were not the average gold or brown, and as he skirted closer, all she could gauge form his actions was harmless curiosity.

But strangers had a way of surprising you.

She would have taken her leave then – allowed her creamy paws to steal toward another direction of required solitude, but the gentle woof drew her sharp gaze back to him, and her own ears perked forward in intrigue. She paused for a moment – uncertain if she could handle the monotony of casual conversation when her husband lay cold for only days now. The sight of his once proud body limp across Lavender Ethos seized her heart once more, and with that she closed her mind, and chose to lope toward the unknown wolf – a distraction was all she wanted now.

“Hello,” she greeted, unable to keep the wariness from her voice as she maneuvered closer. Her own posture remained neutral now – she was not a queen outside of her River, and now, without her mate, she was uncertain if she would maintain her crown at all. Somehow, it mattered little without Maksim in the world.

sparking up my heart