01-07-2017, 04:52 PM
we’re on each other’s team…
There was a difference in the trees this day. Reagan could sense it with the way the wind shifted—with the way the whole place smelled different. This place. It was a thing. It was real. It was potent.
It was tangent.
She moved with a grace that belied her. Carrying Twins, she had already started to show. This was the coming of her winter twins—the Saxon babies, she would call them. And yet, even in her delicate condition, she was not a woman easily trifled with. The days she saw and the children she carried reminded them all of that. She birthed lines that produced kings and queens. And now, she was among them.
And yet she would never call herself that.
Among the trees, they were family. There would always be a sweetness and a peace that wove its way between the redwoods like a blanket. So when the sky blackened and the wind shifted, of course Reagan would know the direction of a coming storm. That it would come even faster than she expected was not on her horizon—for the storm came from within her own borders.
***
She had felt him. Slow, ambling--blind. The bear’s mind was unsure. And yet, he seemed more at home for some reason. As if he belonged in that form… or was that form at heart. Like her, but different. When the crack of sound—a scream—tore through her forest, she felt in her heart that thunderous beating of Ruan running towards something—a goal (a fear)—as if he had the ability to draw upon his own power.
She did not hesitate. She took a beat forward—white snow swirling around her as she ran, her body lowering to the ground, trading hoof for paw, and grey hide for a snow white pelt. The pregnant she-wolf ran to catch up to her mate, in determination to stop his maddening tirade. When at last she was able to catch up to them both, she slid her back half behind her on the icy ground—slippery—and came to stand squarely between them, green eyes fixed on Ruan.
“Stop this!”
It was tangent.
She moved with a grace that belied her. Carrying Twins, she had already started to show. This was the coming of her winter twins—the Saxon babies, she would call them. And yet, even in her delicate condition, she was not a woman easily trifled with. The days she saw and the children she carried reminded them all of that. She birthed lines that produced kings and queens. And now, she was among them.
And yet she would never call herself that.
Among the trees, they were family. There would always be a sweetness and a peace that wove its way between the redwoods like a blanket. So when the sky blackened and the wind shifted, of course Reagan would know the direction of a coming storm. That it would come even faster than she expected was not on her horizon—for the storm came from within her own borders.
She had felt him. Slow, ambling--blind. The bear’s mind was unsure. And yet, he seemed more at home for some reason. As if he belonged in that form… or was that form at heart. Like her, but different. When the crack of sound—a scream—tore through her forest, she felt in her heart that thunderous beating of Ruan running towards something—a goal (a fear)—as if he had the ability to draw upon his own power.
She did not hesitate. She took a beat forward—white snow swirling around her as she ran, her body lowering to the ground, trading hoof for paw, and grey hide for a snow white pelt. The pregnant she-wolf ran to catch up to her mate, in determination to stop his maddening tirade. When at last she was able to catch up to them both, she slid her back half behind her on the icy ground—slippery—and came to stand squarely between them, green eyes fixed on Ruan.
“Stop this!”