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Post by mouse on Jan 15, 2016 20:32:00 GMT -8
Snowflake had woken up several hours ago, and though she had tried to find familier landmarks, she was now forced to admit that she was far away from anywhere she had ever been before. She also had to admit that she would likely never see anyone she knew ever again. Her only comfort was that she knew at least one of her babies were safe.
Facing the fact that she would never get home she searched her mind for anything that might help her gain a new one. It took several minutes, but she soon remembered that one of the mares had been found in a claiming ground. Hopefully there would be one here as well. She set off again, but now her strides had purpose and meaning, for now she was looking for someone. Anyone that could direct her to the mare-claiming spot.
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Post by madiebeau on Jan 18, 2016 11:46:46 GMT -8
I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me. - Dylan Thomas F E N R I R How long has the Wildwood held him within her eternal forests? He should leave, he knows, but he is drawn deeper, and deeper still. A voice, so low it is almost inaudible, pulses through the trees. It sounds almost like a heartbeat in its rhythmic thrumming. Fenrir feels it reverberate through his very bones. He comes to the edge of the secret lake, and the voice ceases entirely. Perhaps, the Wildwood is playing tricks on him. She is a strange land, full of dark magic, and witchery. Fenrir takes a step into the crystal waters, and murk roils up from the loamy depths. He is swallowed instantly, entirely. His sight grows dim, and dimmer still. The voice returns, louder now despite the water that fills his ears, and drowns his lungs. “The debt has not been paid.” it says in a voice neither male nor female. Then there is blackness, and a painful numbness that steals away his consciousness. He awakens to the taste of salt, and the scent of the ocean. How strange to wake up in the unknown once again. There are hoof prints in the sand, partly washed away by the tide. Fenrir follows them, calculating the spacing between the steps. His stride is much longer than that of the stranger’s. A scent lingers in the salt grasses, and Fenrir is surprised to find that it is female. He calls out, long and deep, for the wanderer. Perhaps, she is not far off and will reply.
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Post by mouse on Jan 18, 2016 13:40:52 GMT -8
Snowflake had been wandering for quite some time without a hint of another horse, not a scent, not a sound, not even any skeletons that would at least indicate that there had at least been horses here at one time in the history of the world. She was beginning to think that she was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone when her ears pricked up and her nostrils flared.
She had heard, in the distance, the cry of a horse. She breathed in through her nose, long and deep and caught the scent of a male horse, not far off. She whinnied back to the stallion, and made her way towards him, pinpointing where the sound came from. Perhaps he would claim her and save her a trip, or perhaps he will not, but will tell her where the mare-claiming area was.
It took her less then a minute to find the male, and when he came into view she saw that he was a large black horse, handsome, yes, but it remained to be seen whether he was worthy. The big question being, would he claim her? She stopped approaching when she was close enough for him to touch, should he want to, she didn't want to make it too hard for him to claim her, should he want to. "Hello," she said timidly, and waited for him to make the next move.
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Post by madiebeau on Jan 28, 2016 9:32:29 GMT -8
I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me. - Dylan Thomas F E N R I R Fenrir had once been reduced to nought but bones. Bones, and a strange “essence.” His form had been slippery, intangible, trapped within the trees like sap, too cold to return to his body. Bitter Lullen had been a strange place. Fenrir had relished in the rotwood - the way he was made powerful, and pitiful all at once amidst the Lullen’s furor. He is drawn to places such as these, but the Lullen pales in comparison to his newest prize. Only, Wildwood Hollow is not so central a location as his previous home had been. The Wildwood is hidden, secluded, a dangerous labyrinth. He is the first to touch its shadows, the first to drown within its lake, the first to be spat out onto the shoreline of Aquitica. There is something delectable in sullying the untouched. The mare finds him easily enough. He is, perhaps, a bit taken aback by her direct approach. He tucks his head a slight bit more than usual and snorts, perhaps a bit miffed that there will be no chase. But, this is not the first time a mare has come to him. He has guarded his fair share of intruder turned prisoner turned lover. Perhaps, he is simply in the right place at the right time today. He leaves her greeting to hang suspended in the silence as he looks her up and down with eyes as red-black as his hide. She will suffice. The Wildwood is terribly lonely, save for the occasion voice from the depths of the lake. Fenrir has not touched the flesh of another since last winter, and he cannot help but growl in carnal hunger for want of meat. The facade of charm he tends to wear for those who do not know him is nonexistent now. This mare has gotten too close. Fenrir has gone too long without. He closes the space between them with a toothy sneer. He does not need to tell her how unwise she is to be alone. He does not need to tell her that she isn’t safe. He circles her, muzzle searching her flesh for the perfect place to bite, but the teeth do not come, not yet. He comes to stand beside her, nose trailing up her neck, and behind her ear. “Don’t speak.” he says. “Just follow.” With that, he gives her a gentle nip along the neck, and moves off towards the mountains in the distance. The Wildwood is waiting.
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Post by mouse on Jan 28, 2016 10:40:12 GMT -8
As he moved closer to her, she began to become nervous. She shifted slightly but did not pull back, though she wanted to. His muzzle touched her, and she shivered. Oh how she longed that the flood had never come. She would still be with Sweetfire and her colt.
But all thoughts of her first mate were driven from her mind as the other came to stand beside her. As his nose trails up her neck, he most likely could feel her twitching muscles. She was nervous. Having had only one mate in her life, she had less experience with males then most. But she knew that once they claimed her, they would protect her. Males were strange like that.
He spoke then, at first she thought he would ask her name, but instead he told her to follow. He nipped her then and she sped up to trot almost beside him, but a little behind. At first she thought it strange that he had claimed her so abruptly, but as she remembered Sweetfire's claim, she remembered that he also had had no time for such things, at least until he got her home.
This stallion had not been what she had expected. But one thing was for sure. He was her ticket to a new life.
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