stuck in a moment

OOC|| For @Kasimir.

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Naia stopped in her tracks as she was hit with the unsettling feeling that she was going the wrong way. The realization was not a sudden notion; rather, it had crept up on her slowly as she trekked along the riverbank of this murky, ominous-looking brook. The tiny female lifted her muzzle, nose searching for any sign of pack wolves in the area. The scent she searched for was that of Shade Slayer, an alpha male that she had met several weeks ago and taken to immediately. Although she had yet to meet the rest of the family, she had accepted his invitation to join his pack with faith that such a gentle, kindhearted wolf would surround himself with similar packmates. Still feeling disoriented and unsure of which direction to proceed, the golden-eyed girl picked her way carefully down to the water’s edge. As the water lapped up over her paws, Naia smiled, reminded of the day that she had met Shade. She had been standing in the shallows like this, and the older male had approached and actually asked her permission to take a drink—and him an alpha! After she had accepted a position in Pitch Pine Trail, instead of following her new leader home they had parted ways so she could inform her friend, Gruahir, of her decision to join Shade and his family. She knew that her traveling companion and self-appointed guardian would worry if she simply vanished, however after a week of searching Naia had to conclude that Gruahir was the one who had disappeared.

Naia shifted nervously, swamp mud squeltching between her toes. She had been all over the northern territories this past week, but she hadn’t detected a single whiff of her friend. Though it bothered her to give up on him, the tawny female knew she had a commitment to her new pack as well. She had been gone too long already, and was itching to be at home with her family.The girl shook herself to clear her mind, pushing her worries aside in order to focus on the present situation. She had been walking along the brook for an hour or so with the idea that it might lead her to the Fen where the Pitch Pine Trail wolves had made their home. However, the stream seemed to be leading around the fen instead of through it. The young wolf nodded to herself, deciding that the best course of action would be to cross the river and then strike it out randomly into woods. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing she had asked Shade for better directions. The woods beyond the Pass were dark, extensive, and strangely enigmatic—certainly not the place for a wolf with little idea of where she was going.

The slight wolf’s attempt to move was met with a strange resistance around her front paws. Am I stuck? She tugged again at her front paws, but they remained adamantly cemented in the mire. Beginning to panic, Naia pulled backwards with all her might, her hind feet slipping on the mossy riverbank. Despite her best effort, she could not remove her front paws from their sticky, muddy prison. Naia let loose a shrill bark of alarm, still scrambling to find some sort of friction against her back paws. She barked again, hoping against hope that she was close enough to the pack’s borders for someone to hear her cries of distress.

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No need to match the length, I got a little carried away, lol.

Kasimir, though he had been accepted into Pitch Pine Trail as a Subordinate a while ago, had made an almost awkward point to avoid meeting his fellow pack mates thus far. This was not done because he was unfriendly, or because of a selfish desire not to want to meet them. It was much more complex than either of those things. It was Kasimir’s embarrassment that followed his meeting with Shade, Pitch Pine Trail’s Alpha Male -- though the man had treated Kasimir very well -- that this shyness, of sorts, had been borne. Kasimir had yet to properly introduce himself to Pitch Pine Trail’s Alpha Female, though he understood it was of good manners to do such. He wanted too. However, he did not want to again feel the wave of being inferior that he knew he would; even if they were as sweet as pie to him. Even if they did not look down on him. It would not matter. It was a hard and disconcerting thing, to learn that your common tongue, English, was not nearly as good as you had previously thought it was. While Kasimir could understand it and could translate the words to the appropriate German so he would understand them, it seemed reversing the process tended to trip him up. He could not translate his words correctly, could not make them fit the structure of the English language with the flawlessness those that spoke it first could. The language barrier was like trying to use a tooth brush to break down a concrete wall. It yielded him about the same, impossible, results. Useless, essentially. It was pitiful, to him, how he never seemed to fit in. Not in his birth pack, not exactly here, either. Size of a wolf did not seem to matter so much in Relic Lore, which was good for Kasimir who was the smallest male of his home pack, but bad because his common tongue was auch kaputt.

It was the potential of mockery that Kasimir ….“feared”, so to speak, the most. Though it was very rude, and very wrong of Kasimir to make the assumption that the wolves of Pitch Pine Trail would mock him for his, rather inept ability to communicate with them in his sad, broken English, he could not help the pessimist in his mind, hissing such possibilities. Kasimir expected it, simply, because it was all he knew. He had been mocked and scoffed at, shunned, essentially, because he was not the Hulk of a wolf, like the other males of the Cold North; because he did not thirst for blood and war, because he did not see the advantage in attacking first, asking questions later. He, though his blood and birth spoke different, was not a true Viking, they had told him. Kasimir, son of The Great Ragnarök, despite his stellar bloodlines would never be his father’s son, because he, who favored the peace of diplomacy to the carnage of battle, did not have what it took. After a while, the child had began to accept this. Their mockery had stung, of course, and despite their cruel jeers he had loved them -- loved them still because they were the only family that Kasimir had ever known. It was easy to forgive them, knowing that they were “barbarians” and “knew no different”. It had been that way since the founding of the Cold North, how many spans of years ago, and that it would likely, always be exactly like that.

A cry of a bark, shrill with the obvious infliction of panic, broke Kasimir out of his memories, bringing him rather abruptly to the present. Smack dab back in Clandestine Brook, not so far from Pitch Pine Trail’s borders, right back to the avoiding what was, essentially, inevitable. Though there had been hopes of avoiding it for a day longer -- in the unrealistic hope that something magical might happen and he could suddenly speak the common tongue as fluently as he had once thought he was capable of -- they were immediately quenched. Though, he supposed, he could have prolonged it by ignoring the bark, his nature would not allow for Kasimir to do such a selfish thing. Language barrier or not, another was in trouble and he would not be able to sleep with a guilty conscious of knowing he could have tried to aid but did not. Without hesitation, Kasimir headed in the direction, silver ears thrusting forward atop his skull listening past the sound his paws made on the earthen floor, the sound of what he thought to be claws scrapping against stone and dirt resounding into his ear canals. It did not take him long to find her, what would might be a comical picture if she was not so, clearly, distressed. She was a small creature, scenting of Shade and Pitch Pine Trail, though the pack scent was not so strong -- she had been away from them for a while. Not long, though, he guessed. “Es ist ok,” Kasimir attempted to soothe before it sunk in, a few raising heartbeats later, that he had spoken it in German. “It’s ok?” Kasimir tried, sounding hesitant at the end, thinking he had the right translation but second guessing himself out of a newly acquired habit. “Uhm,” Having what he would have spoken in German in his mind he attempted to translate it, speaking slowly with his heavy accent, “Please do not fight. It will only make it worse.” It sounded right to Kasimir, but in truth, that meant little. The fact was, did it sound right to her? Whoever it was that she might be.

Kasimir
even my memories cannot drown me

(This post was last modified: Jul 26, 2013, 03:38 PM by Kasimir.)

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The frightened female heard a voice and turned as the stranger approached. She took several deep breaths, attempting to regain control of her panicked mind. She was so upset that she couldn’t even comprehend the other wolf’s speech—it had sounded like gibberish to her. She stopped pulling at her paws for a moment to consider the unfamiliar male. He was here because she had called for help, and yet it still put the tiny girl on edge to be helplessly caught and in the presence of a complete stranger. If she only had her paws free she might have a chance, though very slight, of defending herself should the encounter turn hostile. Her frightened eyes met his, and Naia relaxed slightly as she detected only concern for her in his gaze. It helped considerably that he was small for a male of their species, although he was still much larger than her—most were. He spoke to her again, and there was an odd, hesitant note in voice. This time she understood that he had said “It’s okay,” but because of the peculiar inflection she thought he was asking her a question.

”Ah.. no…” the young wolf stuttered, looking back once more at her imprisoned paws, ”I don’t think I’m okay. Not at all.” A cold, sinking feeling welled up in the pit of her stomach as she spoke. Voicing her situation aloud had triggered the panic reaction once more, and she began tugging frantically. She shot alarmed look at the strange male, who was still looking uncertain for some reason unknown to Naia. Was he still trying to decide whether to help her?

”Please do not fight. It will only make it worse,” he told her, and the tawny female paused her efforts. Just for the moment, confusion outweighed panic. She turned back to the male, training her golden eyes on the stranger for longer this time. Fighting the muck made it worse? What on earth was she supposed to do, ask the river politely to let her go? Though the strange wolf seemed to know what he was talking about, his posture indicated that he was still unsure of himself. If this wolf knew how to help her, why did he hesitate? "All right," Naia began, taking a breath to steady herself. "What makes it better?” For now she stood still, waiting for his response with the secret that she hoped would free her.

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