Dead Empress Backwater faroth

For @Archer~

July 22nd; Mid-Morning; Few Clouds; 73 ° F, 22.8 ° C

For the first time in his very short life thus far, Oleander Valle was bored. He could have gone anywhere, do anything, and yet here he was... flat on the ground with his limbs stretched in front and behind him. His tail laid limp alongside his dirtied heels. Ugh. His ears came forward in a pointed manner as he huffed to himself.

He let out a guttural sound that originated from his belly and rumbled up to his throat. An attempt at a growl, bark, and a low whine all at once.

This was annoying.

Bright yellow eyes side-eyed the den entrance. He could have taken a nap. He could have gone with his mother or his sisters or his father...

In a dramatic display of woe and anguish, he rolled onto his side with an even louder, "Ughhhh--" But was cut off by a string of alien grunts.

He shoved dirt across the clearing as he sat up. Startled. What was that?? His ears pinned back as he got to his feet, curiosity drawing him towards the Creek bank. Passing his favorite tree, the one where he liked to scratch his rump on every so often, he let out a startled gasp. Something rustled the dead leaves on the forest floor and jumped away.

Wide eyes grew rimmed in white as he sought after the refugee. He let out a wordless bark and the frog croak answered before he saw it: A large green and brown bullfrog in all its round, bumpy, warty glory.

Without a name to call it or words to describe the creature, Oleander only had one opinion of the thing: Gross.

Boredom finally tossed aside, the white-furred boy made a gutsy move and pounced after it. He landed face-first in the dirt as the bullfrog hopped away, perfectly camouflaged against the backdrop of the Backwater.

they say pray it away, i swear,
OLEANDER VALLE
that I'll never be a saint, no way

Archer often meandered through the woods, taking his time to stop and smell new things and try his best to commit them to memory. He forgot most of them until he ran into them again, but he figured if kept trying, eventually he would remember.

Today he walked towards the place he knew his half siblings usually rested with their own Maa. He hadn't really gone that way before; he didn't much care to interact with such dramatic children. He had yet to meet this "Violet" that had gotten lost the day of the big gathering, and the Sobber was... Well, her nickname was explanation enough.

The last boy though, the Mouthful... He captures Archer's interest. They seemed to have something in common, even if Archer didn't quite grasp the concept of how to make friends. Oleander seemed interesting, and that was enough for Archer today.

He heard movement as he made his way toward the other den, and then a thump. He pushed his way through the last of the undergrowth shrouding his vision and saw his half brother, face-down in the dirt.

So much for that impression.

But, used to Eros's antics and frequent clumsiness, Archer took this in stride. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked, watching Oleander with a blank expression.

[size=x-small]Archer is very haggard and thin; it is obvious he is not doing well.

Pleghhhh... Blech. Oleander's tongue spat out a twig as he brought his head up and shook the dirt from his forehead and cheeks. Woof.

"Whatcha doin'?"

The pale boy's head whipped to the side, getting an eyeful of his brother, the dark one. In a very characteristic fashion, he scowled. Partially because he hated to be interrupted. Mostly because the dumb thing had gotten away.

He snorted through his nose and stood up with another shake of his coat. "Hunting," how blunt and boring. He remedied his answer but failed to expound it further for Archer. Instead, he whispered, "Shhhhh! Listen."

He went back to where he saw the creature had gone. It was hard to see in the middle of broken twigs, dead leaves, and shredded bark, but it was there. All Oleander had to do was to look for that green, round, glossy eye.

"There!" He pointed with both a jab of his muzzle and head and a lifted forepaw. "Lookit. Watch."

With the finesse of a novice hunter, his lanky legs moved him forward until he coiled his hind legs and lunged. His forepaws landed where the bullfrog had been, and the boys' prey of interest jumped out, stupidly, into the open. It blinked its strange-shaped eyes, letting out another weird-sounding croak.

Surely, a large adult frog had quite a lead over two wolf cubs, but the boy didn't know that. In the thrill of an initiated chase, he gasped, "Get it!"

(This post was last modified: Aug 31, 2021, 09:47 PM by Oleander.)

they say pray it away, i swear,
OLEANDER VALLE
that I'll never be a saint, no way

Oleander didn't seem to be hurt, for which Archer was grateful. He gave a quiet snort of amusement watching him shake the dirt out of his fur with a scowl. His answer was simply 'hunting' and Archer had to resist the urge to point out that he wasn't going to catch anything falling on his face.

Then his memory of his embarrassing swim during their fishing lesson came to mind and he was able to keep his mouth shut.

He took sever steps toward Oleander and was about to ask what he was hunting when he demanded he be quiet. Archer froze and cocked his head, ears straining. Suddenly he pointed at his quarry and pounced after it. Archer perked up at the sight of the frog, and when Oleander sounded the chase he was quick to leap into action. His paws came down on bare earth and he growled, watching the dark creature hop away.

"Don't let it in water!" he cried, launching after it.

[size=x-small]Archer is very haggard and thin; it is obvious he is not doing well.

"Don't let it in water!" Archer wailed. Oleander responded by instinct alone, launching forward with paws outstretched to capture it. He scoffed as, yet again, the frog was one move ahead of them. But, his choice of direction was a good one, as the whole of his ashen body angled to direct the frog away from the water.

Oleander, whose limbs and tummy skid across the bank, watched with wide eyes as the frog jumped. With the boys side-by-side after failed attempts to pin it, the amphibian had many a chance to escape.

His own little growl of frustration sounded out with his brother's. What a prize the slimy thing would be... if they actually managed to catch it.

Then, as impulsive as a puppy could be, the boy reacted to the rising instinct to pounce. From his sprawled out position on the ground, he didn't get much air, but he did land a heavy paw on the frog's warty leg. Black-lined lips parted in awe as he stood to watch the thing struggle and writhe. It was caught.... but, now what?

they say pray it away, i swear,
OLEANDER VALLE
that I'll never be a saint, no way

As he chased after the frog, Oleander obeyed and managed to ward the creature away from the water. He still landed primarily in a sprawl, but since Archer still had no gain on their prey he couldn't really criticize.

"Good!" he encouraged, quickly wheeling about and searching for where the thing had gone. Oleander beat him to it, giving a poorly-executed lunge after the frog.

Poorly-executed, yet successful.

His brother looked just as shocked as he was, and the frog let out an indignant croak as it struggled to free it's leg. "Wow, good job Oli!" Archer cheered, even as he sprang forward and clapped two paws down around the frog so it couldn't wiggle out.

Nose-to-nose with his brother and flush with the success of their first hunt, Archer grinned. "Now what?"

[size=x-small]Archer is very haggard and thin; it is obvious he is not doing well.

"Wow, good job Oli!" Archer's praise washed over the boy's ashen head, but all Oleander could do was stare. Under his clunky paw, the bullfrog squirmed, trying with all its might to use its leg strength to hop away to no avail.

Eventually, the wart-covered thing sprawled out, both legs stretched out behind it. Oleander could only assume that if it had had a neck, it might have laid its head down on the ground in a moratorium.

"I..." the pup began, his gaze raking up and down the bumpy, swamp-green skin. Even up close it was still gross... but he couldn't stop gawking at it. "I dunno. But... What is?" The question seemed to be the only one he knew how to ask. There was no end to his curiosity. Maybe his brother knew.

they say pray it away, i swear,
OLEANDER VALLE
that I'll never be a saint, no way

Archer watched at the frog stopped squirming, and he cocked his head at it. There was no way he would stop fighting if he was caught, but that's why he was a wolf and it wasn't. Wolves were better, after all. At least it could accept its place in the world with some dignity.

Even if it was a gross little thing.

Oleander was still staring at it. Archer wondered if his brother was still processing the fact that he'd actually managed to catch the thing. His profession that he didn't know what to do yet was met with an irritated flick of the ears; Oli was the one who'd started the chase, after all; didn't he have an end-goal in mind?

And then, much like Archer, he asked a question.

The darker boy thought on it for a moment. "I think it's a frog?" He'd seen them around and heard the adults mention them, but having never seen them with the word directly at them, he didn't know. He just wanted to sound smart in front of his brother. Archer was the superior Valle, after all, and he needed to prove it.

Now to figure out what to do with it. He didn't much feel like eating it; it looked and smelled gross, not like the fish Da had tried to teach them how to catch. There was no point in killing it.

"We should let it go," he said, "unless you want to eat it."

Let Oli be the test if he wanted to try it.

[size=x-small]Archer is very haggard and thin; it is obvious he is not doing well.