Sex: MaleMost of their days had been spent traversing towards what Nagga assumed was the pack of wolves that lived close to a river - according to his companion, Naia. Most of the time Nagga was contented to follow her for the mere fact that she knew the way, and the layout of the lands surrounding them by far better than he did. She was an easy creature to travel with and Nagga got along surprisingly well with her, which he had, more or less, realized upon his first meeting her. As it was with anything, Nagga was usually nearly one hundred percent confident in his abilities to get along with another somewhere in the middle of the first meeting. There were personality types that Nagga clashed horrendously with. Naia, thankfully, was not one of those wolves. At night they bunked down to rest. Nagga was used to the endlessly long days of traveling, the subtle aching in his paws that told him that it was time to stop for the night, though young and admittedly durable, he had, upon first setting out from Dragon’s Keep, not been used to tireless lengths of walking. It was easier, now that he’d been doing it for months, and his endurance had adapted and risen to compliment this newfound lifestyle - though if Nagga had anything to say about it, the life of a loner would not succeed too much longer. The winter was growing harsher with each passing day - though his fur was plusher given his Arctic heritage giving him the advantage of being more adaptable to the biting cold -Nagga could still feel it slice through to the marrow of his bones upon some nights. The Pronghorn haunch he had taken from the baby Pronghorn he had split with Naia had already been consumed (for it wasn’t as if he’d been saving it to offer to Cut Rock River, admittedly) though he had always been sure to offer Naia some of his flank when he would nibble at it, trying to make it last. Prey was becoming alarmingly scarcer than it had been upon his arrival in Relic Lore which, though Nagga tried not to show it for the sake of Naia, scared him. It seemed irrational to inherently fear migration of herds - at least this was what he told himself in attempts of shooing the nagging terror away (though it was futile for the terror would not cease) - yet the terror was very much alive, real and rooted deeply in his heart and brain, spreading it’s poison until he would wake from nightmares. It always seemed to bother him more in his slumber when he would dream of barren winter and stark hunger of starvation. In reality, fearing the migration of the herds which would cause starvation and further death for many, was perfectly logical. Though Nagga was healthy, being a loner was hard, and henceforth hard upon him. Though he often brazenly approached the concept of death with indifference when he came face to face with the harsh reality that it was looming over him and Naia both he had to accept that he did not want to die; which spurred his fierce desire to ensure that Naia and him did not go hungry. Nagga would not be taken by starvation and not until he was an old man and good and ready to welcome death. The wraith stirred uneasily in his soft sleep, and awoke with a gasp of breath, inhaling the stinging chilly air of the partially cloudy morning greedily. Regaining his composure was a, thankfully, short process, and once he had managed serenity within himself, he shifted his large paw off of his muzzle - where he had placed it to block out the sun when the clouds would drift away from obscuring it and it’s warmth would touch upon the strands of ivory fur that covered him; and though he could scent a pack's borders in the far distance, they had, thus far, been adamant about staying far away from their borders. Nagga squinted against daylight for a few moments before he shifted, rising his head off of the cold, hard earthen floor to peek at Naia, hoping that she was still asleep and had not witnessed the embarrassing twitches and terror that plagued him in his sleep. |
| table by mimi |
0/3 thread(s) available