Post by Della on Apr 9, 2009 20:39:18 GMT -5
Everything was different.
In fact, everything was so unimaginably and uncomfortably different that the scraggly adolescent felt as if she was doing the wrong thing by returning to it. Before; when things were simpler and time was measured only by the amount of fun everyone was having, three months would have passed in, well, in a lot less time than it ended up actually progressing in while she was wandering far past the outskirts of her unknown. The wolfess was unaware of her own awkward transition from cub to budding adult and the changes happening in the unfamiliar world around her, but now that she was returning to the territories where she was raised, Della realized just how long she had been away.
New flora and fauna had grown, and the terrain had shifted just enough for her to notice all the subtle differences that made everything so strange. Things like the pup dens that had, at some point in her absence, collapsed and were now replaced by an overgrowth of thriving, nasty thorn bushes which had somehow grown out of the new cliff. Or how the family of chipmunks who used to live in the knot of her old marking tree were gone, and all the trees had grown so much taller and…
And the smells. That’s what bothered her the most. It was obvious the Koran lands had gone through a natural cycle, releasing old members to a new life or the afterlife, and new wolves had joined the family, tracking themselves all over the place and covering up every nostalgic scent from her childhood. Della found herself having to shove her nose deep into the grasses and crevices to catch the faint whiffs of the past. However, this was enough for the female to find what she cared about the most;
Alice.
More than anything, Della felt guilty for leaving behind the being who had taken her in; taught her everything about being a wolf. Honed her instincts and instilled in her a faith of the mightiest Tor and Fenris – the faith that kept her running and hopeful, the faith that kept her company, when she was cowering in the knotted roots of a wise old tree or under the shelter of a blanket of moss when nature’s elements and hungry, cannibalistic Kerl came lumbering around, leaving the inexperienced child in unfathomably dark situations.
She felt guilty for abandoning the life she knew and trying to defy reality all over the simple, albeit terrifying, concept of death. It wasn’t her place, and after her romp with the truly wild, she realized this.
Della was skinny and unkempt; her red fur jutting out in awkward, greasy mattes and her skin hanging dangerously off of sharp, angry bones trying desperately to escape their devious confines of weak muscle and half-eaten fats. She had survived only on a diet of rats, rabbit, fish, and the berries and meat she could scavenge; and, safe to say, Della was far too busy running to actually do much hunting or scavenging. At the least, she realized she needed a pack to return to or she’d surely die, and everything would be for nothing.
Della had returned, and when she reached the dead middle of (what was once, at least) her packlands, her howl was so long and heartfelt and soaking with a desperate need that she was sure Alice would hear it from the mountaintops halfway across the world.
In fact, everything was so unimaginably and uncomfortably different that the scraggly adolescent felt as if she was doing the wrong thing by returning to it. Before; when things were simpler and time was measured only by the amount of fun everyone was having, three months would have passed in, well, in a lot less time than it ended up actually progressing in while she was wandering far past the outskirts of her unknown. The wolfess was unaware of her own awkward transition from cub to budding adult and the changes happening in the unfamiliar world around her, but now that she was returning to the territories where she was raised, Della realized just how long she had been away.
New flora and fauna had grown, and the terrain had shifted just enough for her to notice all the subtle differences that made everything so strange. Things like the pup dens that had, at some point in her absence, collapsed and were now replaced by an overgrowth of thriving, nasty thorn bushes which had somehow grown out of the new cliff. Or how the family of chipmunks who used to live in the knot of her old marking tree were gone, and all the trees had grown so much taller and…
And the smells. That’s what bothered her the most. It was obvious the Koran lands had gone through a natural cycle, releasing old members to a new life or the afterlife, and new wolves had joined the family, tracking themselves all over the place and covering up every nostalgic scent from her childhood. Della found herself having to shove her nose deep into the grasses and crevices to catch the faint whiffs of the past. However, this was enough for the female to find what she cared about the most;
Alice.
More than anything, Della felt guilty for leaving behind the being who had taken her in; taught her everything about being a wolf. Honed her instincts and instilled in her a faith of the mightiest Tor and Fenris – the faith that kept her running and hopeful, the faith that kept her company, when she was cowering in the knotted roots of a wise old tree or under the shelter of a blanket of moss when nature’s elements and hungry, cannibalistic Kerl came lumbering around, leaving the inexperienced child in unfathomably dark situations.
She felt guilty for abandoning the life she knew and trying to defy reality all over the simple, albeit terrifying, concept of death. It wasn’t her place, and after her romp with the truly wild, she realized this.
Della was skinny and unkempt; her red fur jutting out in awkward, greasy mattes and her skin hanging dangerously off of sharp, angry bones trying desperately to escape their devious confines of weak muscle and half-eaten fats. She had survived only on a diet of rats, rabbit, fish, and the berries and meat she could scavenge; and, safe to say, Della was far too busy running to actually do much hunting or scavenging. At the least, she realized she needed a pack to return to or she’d surely die, and everything would be for nothing.
Della had returned, and when she reached the dead middle of (what was once, at least) her packlands, her howl was so long and heartfelt and soaking with a desperate need that she was sure Alice would hear it from the mountaintops halfway across the world.
