As if Archaic

[tristan]

Early morning pillars of warmth and sunlight gilded a small copse of smooth, white barked trees and long, tender-green grass. Fenris was just beginning his ascent unto his mighty forest in the sky, but already the heat from his snarling face was blinding in brilliance. However, his reign was still not absolute for the cool, welcome breezes still touched with the chill of midnight lingered throughout the Deor packlands. It was inviting really; ushering one particular resident to shuck the early morning rise just this once for the calm, pleasantness of dreamless sleep on a cool slab of stone in this copse of fluttering-leaf trees. Ingo's restful breath paced his sleep until, opening his eyes and gazing for a steady moment at the awaking world, his vigor and eagerness for the day would let him sleep no longer.

The dragga youth yawned widely, displaying grown pearly-whites and healthy gums. Already his biting capacity was immense, about the bite of a large guard dog and still his jaws would grow stronger. His yawn ended with an audible click, which reassured him of the power he was still capable of through nature and reminded him of the gurgle in his gut that prompted him in the direction of food. So after stretching long legs and his supple back, each of which were corded with slender muscles and tone, Ingo clicked off of the rock he had inhabited for the night and began to scurry after smaller rodents that would keep his apatite in control and his energy abundant for a while. Soon, the pack would have to catch one of the particularly plump deer from the herd not far out of reach. Despite how much he longed for deer right this moment, Ingo chose to not tempt the risk and settled for what he had.

That finished, with the large rabbit and small squirrel tucked in his stomach, Ingo continued his trek through the Deor territory, searching for both a breech in the boundary line and for the pack mates he felt so lonely without. Days like this were often wonderful days, but they did little to compare to those days he had spent with his pack, despite the snow and cold he remembered. It had been good just to be among friends and comrades, although they had been discussing inevitable war. It had been good just to hunt the scarce food that lingered in the area during snowfall, although their wasn't any meat on the bones of the scrawny Lera they did manage to snare. It had been good. But he wished that 'was' could be exchanged for the current 'had been.'

In any case, Ingo managed to pad for some time, time enough for noon to come and go. Late afternoon. A warm late afternoon. Even though his thick winter coat had shed, the heat still felt trapped beneath his fur and he traveled with his long, pink tongue dangling from his slender jaws. And it was then he noticed that something was oddly familiar. The only absence was the thick blanket of white from winter, and the drizzle of freezing snow that fell that day. It was the dens, approached from the same angle and almost the same reason as before. He was looking for his pack. The results were also the same. Disappointed but not really surprised, Ingo found the dens to be empty - although the scents were so mingled that he couldn't tell if any were very recent or not.

Ingo exhaled deeply as he stood before the cave, his two forelimbs held together as if appraising the pack dens. He remembered very distinctly seeing Rokk here, and having a short conversation. That had been rough times... times of war. Ingo looked over his shoulder at the warm, sunlit area. His prick ears brushed and jerked back and forth, but the only sounds that reverberated in his auricles were the noises that had been following him since spring: birdsong, the whisper of trees, murmuring blades of grass, and the lazy buzz of insects. Maybe other Lera sounds as well but nothing indicating the whereabouts of his pack mates. Turning back around, Ingo trotted into the den and, after turning about in a tight circle for a few moments, he laid his slender skull on his paws. Ingo's gold-tan brow lifted as he blinked and looked about to the outside world. If anyone had been here recently, they may come back. Ingo was willing to wait for a fortnight if only someone would return. A soft, growled-sigh was emitted from his jaws. Someone would return... right? The den site couldn't be that old - although the dust made him doubt it.

[Farrah]

Farrah followed the scent. It was that of her little brother, whom she had not seen in months. She worried about him. She had been a kerl most of her life; ever since most of her family had died, she had never been the same. She still carried small reminders of her parents: her muscles and air of dignity were that of her dragga, the splash of redish fur on her chest was her drappa's, and what wits she still carried with her reminded her of her brother.
That fateful day was still fresh in her memory. She had thought all had parished from her pack. She knew she had survived, but she had taken all others for dead, until one day, several moons ago, she had picked up a small stranger along the road and began to teach him the ways of a kerl. He had been very intelligent and caught on easily, but his eyes teased her into accepting him as what he really was: one of her past memories in the flesh.
She had followed the scent for quite a ways. Now that the members of Deor were scarce, there was not much to do but fill ones own belly and become creative with activities. Though Farrah had been a kerl for a long while before now, she had never really liked the life of the lonely. She had always loved the company of other pack members surrounding her; their yips of laughter when they played, their whines of fear when told stories of Wolfbane, the sounds pups made when they slept...these she missed and more, for she had not seen anyone from her pack in many weeks. She feared they may all be dead. This is why her brother had been toying at the edge of her mind for a while now. She wondered what had become of him. She had been so preoccupied with thinking of him that when she first scented him in the tall grass, she had thought it was a figment of her imagination mocking her. But this was real. She could finally be close to finding her flesh and blood.
She trailed him to the opening of the unused dens. She stepped inside.
There she found him, curled up, but with ears on the alert, even in sleep, for something...maybe his pack? She didn't know whether she should wake him or wait for him to open his eyes on his own. She had no idea of what his ordeals and adventures might have been like, but she really wanted him to know he was not alone. She was torn. Finally, she opted to lay on the other side of the den, to await his waking. Perhaps she could get some much-needed shut-eye as well...