The Kite String

It began as a steady flurry of flakes. It was pleasant enough to enjoy if one wanted to stick their tongue out to get a taste of a snowflake, but stand in one spot for too long, and already was one ankle deep. Which was one of the things Quinn noticed as slightly offbeat about this place (and was never really one to pay attention to surrounding detail): the snow level was beginning to be increasingly immense for such a gentle snow fall. Winter was already in full force, so it was obvious and no surprise Mother Nature may had something more than appealing in store this year. Mother Nature… when you would think she would be nurturing as the matriarch of all Earth’s little creatures that were Hers to live off the land and feed from Her bosom of the Earth, She was anything but. Unforgiving, testing, ruthless. She was both generous giving for the land, and at the same time, a stern lesson that wasn’t afraid to turn a cold shoulder (with the pun).

Quinn tested her weight upon a frozen reverie of once was a musical river, although with her current weight she presumably couldn’t break the ice even if she tried to apply whatever weight or strength was left. Traversing right over it (even giving something of a half hearted skate with her paw pads across), Quinn was rather whimsical on her current pursuit of a hunt. Malnutrition led to several bouts of misinterpretations of what was seen against a background of white on a constant basis, so Quinn was actually unsure whether or not she had deemed herself fortunate to be tracking after a single buck of a Mule Deer who could have been long since separated by his herd. Quinn had crossed paths with those herded animals who abandoned their weakest, sickest, and incapable. Many of which who had welcomed her presence and death to come with; though it made the task easier for her in her state of health to take them down, it also left an eerie reminder she was in the same exact predicament as them. Her surrender wasn’t ready to give in so easy yet.

The degree of weather was in the negatives this afternoon, and Quinn could've swore it was so cold the fine nerves of her olfactory senses were frozen off (that or it had been terribly too long since she utilized her senses for a true successful hunt). The sky was as dreary and cloudy as the ground. Not a figure in sight except the barren bark structures of what was left of this orchard. No sweet cherry aroma of ripened fruit, no fine stroll full of sunshine. For all Quinn knew her imagination could have been playing a timeless trick on her again with an imaginary Mule Deer she sighted not long ago, but Quinn had all the time in the world and more to kill.

reference: http://relic-lore.net/showthread.php?tid=6131 - Chulyin is just further exploring the orchard.

Leaving the odd boy behind to deal with whatever inner struggles he might've had, Chulyin dove further into the Orchard. He didn't let the boy linger long in his mind. It was sad, of course, knowing that the children of these lands seemed destined to begin their lives in the harshest of manners, however it was truly none of his business. Certainly the kid had parents, parents that he ought to have been speaking to. What was the point of a mother, a father, if one did not commune with them? Parents were supposed to be there for their children. Exhaling, a pale cloud emitted from his jaws, Chulyin breathed the child away. It was done.

Though the immediate area he'd come to had been a bit "bloody", the further he went the less damaged it seemed to be. It was a quiet place. Perhaps the openness of it, the lack of brush, meant there was little prey about. And therefore, there would be few wolves either. It was too open, too exposed, and there seemed to be little in the way of appropriate den space. But as he moved quietly through the snow, occasionally pausing to inhale, he noted that it was not so empty as he'd thought. Not far ahead was a pale woman, and even from the distance he was from her, he could tell that the winter had not been treating her well.

His copper eyes passed over her as he moved closer, in a sort of oeillade, though perhaps less in love and more concerned. He had encountered many a pretty lass in his time in these lands. That never meant he intended to act on any sudden emotion that might have made a quick roundabout in his head before dissipating. But spurred on by some closeted guilt for the boy that he'd utterly failed to assist, he moved closer to the woman before stopping a few yards away. A hungry creature was always a dangerous one, too. His head tipped back, nose up a bit as he watched her cautiously, uttering a single word, <b style="color:#a51919">"Miss." <b style="color:#a51919">

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Look Out!

Water is beginning to freeze and some fish are trapped. Hunt Opportunity

The male caught her before Quinn could detect him (and might have passed it off as another delusion of her mind’s making if Quinn sighted him first). His single remark struck her dead in tracks, her ears not affected by the blistering cold of this winter and certainly not in any manner deaf yet of her hearing, as an acknowledging greeting of miss was spoken to her. It was a savior of a melody to her ears, despite it was only a term of recognizing in this lifeless orchard. Dark as the bony bark structures of what was left behind as the orchard’s foundation, the male was naturally large in size; seemingly without a flaw in the raven color of his pelt. Eyes glittering like furnace gold, the only warm color Quinn could distinguish in an environment like this. It appeared he observed her from his distance, and Quinn didn’t make motion to make the radius between them more comfortable or removed.

Something did perk her ears up slightly, for the cold surface of her nose quivered in his direction. Perhaps her nose wasn’t as useless as first assumed, for what Quinn could scent from her distance from him, there was a peculiar scent woven into his dark pelt. Of what, there was no telling yet. Something of a pack? Maybe an affiliation to a small band of wolves? Along with the perk of her ears, the hackles along the ridge of her spine began to come alive to attention. A subconscious red flag of hers that was more automatic than intended, Quinn was a wild wolf and thus was a wild card upon encounter. There was no hostility from what was spoken of his single word, but one could never be too lax in situations like this.

Her fern green eyes squinted some to get a sharper image from afar, although he stood out like a sore thumb quite obviously. Her brows knitted in mild agitation, perhaps from him disturbing her tracking from something that was probably in her fantasy. There was no verbal response to give back to him, though it was apparent he caught her attention, and she was now scrutinizing him from her location. The tip of her tail flicked. Silently calculating, disappointingly there was not a word to escape from her and would not have any upbeat salutation or ice breaker to offer. While Quinn was confident they were both upon grounds unclaimed by any pack, she was moved to see any following response of what he could possibly want with her.

There was a long silence between them. She seemed to have seen him, and he quite obviously saw her. Neither party said anything for what felt like some time, and the longer the silence lingered, the more Chulyin realized that the woman was not going to answer him. For many obvious reasons, such as his rather one-track-minded goal of finding food for the wolves of the Keep, he was tempted to simply go on his way and leave this wolf to go about her business. But in the man's typical fashion, he was wont to leave a woman in such bad shape about on her own without first offering some help...Even if he only ended up making things worse. A thought popped into his head that there was likely to be a stream about, something that trailed out from the Falls. Perhaps there would be fish about, despite the utter freezing temperatures. Despite the true odds of there being living beings in the creek, it was far more productive to check than to simply stand around staring as he had been doing.

With suddenly a lack of hesitation, Chulyin moved forward towards the woman. There was no careful stride that propelled him, but something meaningful and so confident that one might find it hard to find a threat of the man. Certainly he was large, but he did not run at her, nor did he prowl cautiously towards her. He moved with an assumption that she would not cause him harm; he would trust the stranger and in return, he might be able to assist her. He ceased a few feet away, eyes trained upon her face, before he spoke, <b style="color:#a51919">"Would you care to help me?" He asked. <b style="color:#a51919">"I believe there to be a stream nearby. If we're lucky, there might still be something in it." Considering this for a moment, he was certain that if the water was fast moving enough through this place, perhaps it would not be frozen quite yet.

<b style="color:#a51919">

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Silence dangled heavy between the two, and after the period of observation and anticipation, he made the first move. Quinn could feel the rise of her hackles growing to their attention more, and her muscles quivered to draw her back. There was an air of confidence in his steps that spoke of universal physical neutrality. This made her remain in her place, despite the fact her instincts were gearing to motion her more or less away from him approaching. To the point where Quinn could study his facial features better in detail, he stopped to ask for assistance with the stream nearby. Instantaneously her jaws began to water. Fish, any fish at that, was a delicacy to have back home. Only the most skilled in hunting were the ones who could perfect a successful hunt in a river or lake from her birth pack. It was only on special occasions they would dine on fish. Her tongue may have not tasted fish in many moons, but her taste buds sure never forgot the taste itself. Her tongue hurriedly licked her maw at the thought.

The male’s question did seem to catch her off guard some. Care to help…?” Quinn looked down at her forepaws, buried in the snow already from the down pour, peering to her almost bone like forelegs. Why would anyone give a care in the world to ask her to assist? Didn’t he see the state she was in now? Granted the male didn’t look top notch to 100% either, two minds were always better than one was the universal rule in the natural law of the wolf. “Say we take 50/50?” Quinn finally spoke, her voice a commanding contralto of how they were to go about this. There was a breakthrough of trust beginning to shine light upon this encounter, though Quinn was content with keeping something of a half-hearted guard up yet. The male was big, easily towering over her medium stature. With his approach also grew his natural scent, that of himself and something of a pack essence on him. Her nose continued to silently calculate this.

The woman remained cautious, which, of course, made Chulyin cautious. But his sheer size gave him courage enough. She was not a threat, though with no warning would certainly be able to get in a good attack, should he do something to upset her. But that was not his intent. He simply wished to help those less fortunate than himself while also helping himself, and by extension, his pack. Anything he caught would likely not end up in his own belly. It would be a bit frustrating to see a stranger make off with part of a catch that he certainly didn't have to share, but within, he knew if he saw her lifeless body later, he would have played a crucial part in her demise.

When she spoke up, it started him. The frailty of her figure seemed incapable of containing the voice that laid down a question that was hardly questioning. If there was no split, then there would be no help. The man nodded stiffly, not entirely a fan of such a split, but it only meant that he would not be eating any of what he caught today, it would all end up in the jaws of his packmates. With a toss of his head, he ushered to lead her towards the frozen stream. Padding along its banks, he eyed the frozen waters, hoping to catch sight of any movement, shining scales. Traveling a few meters along the bank, he finally spotted the treasure. He paused, regarding it for a moment, before traveling a few more yards down, not wanting to startle the fish, and could only hope that the sudden lack of ice might catch the mindless creatures attention.

Sliding his paws onto the ice, he reared back and threw all his weight down upon the frozen surface. It gave a resounding crack and he repeated the action, only to suddenly be up to his sore knees in frozen water. Jumping back, he shook his legs off, trying not to cringe from the mild pain that had come up his legs from such an impact. Carefully, he lowered his belly to the snow, nose pointed over the edge of the bank, just waiting to strike when the fish moved into view. <b style="color:#a51919">

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