12-04-2018, 09:52 AM
Blue mare - black wolf; she can’t seem to stay in horse-shape long enough to care.
The little wolf slinks through the golden grasses that have become a temporary sort of home. She adapts, preferring the cleaner plague-free meat of her kills here. Thus far, she’s avoided the plague and stays within the pampas’ boundaries, thinking of her brother and half-sister. They were her pack but the sister-wolf is missing which causes her to further worry at the knucklebone in her mouth with her teeth.
Sawtooth often worries at bones when she was deep in thought or concerned. Though often the bones of choice cane from her mother’s body but she hasn’t been to the beach in months, not since the plague hit the lands. She’s had to settle for the bones of the animals she’s hunted and they just don’t satisfy her as much as her mother’s do. Like she thought gnawing in mama’s legbone might give her secret insight.
The wolf tires of chewing on her bone and begins to fling it about then run it down. Small games to amuse herself and keep her skills sharp. Eventually she falls over in the grass, bored as the afternoon doldrums set in until a mare goes galloping by and her nose twitches at the stamp of her brother all over her. Sawtooth promptly sits up, as the horse grows smaller and smaller by the minute. Well now, this could be interesting, she thinks.
A minute more, then she lopes after the mare. She follows her easily and untaxed by a need to catch up, knowing it’ll inevitably happen as she tracks her by scent and the trail ploughed through the tall wavering grass. Then she draws up short to sniff at the sudden salty tang in the air and forgets herself, memories of a different sea rising to the forefront of her mind as she creeps past the mare to hunker down and stare at the sea.
She sits hunched over, thinking of the beach she’d been born on and then of the Tephran sea as mama-Wound had encouraged her to cross at the lowest tide so she’d have less to swim through. Sawtooth had had so much fun looking through the mudflats before the waves lapped at her feet, reminding her that the sea was ever so close to snatching her and drowning her in the deep. She’s unaware that her shape has grown sort of shimmery, that she’s shifting back to iridescent blue horse-form still hunkered down on her haunches in a sitting position like a stubborn donkey, wings tucked close to her sides.
@[Lepis] ok so she isn’t talking yet but... lol