04-22-2013, 10:02 PM
The arrival of the loping host of guardians at the caern proper halts Jack in his steady trudging up the muddy and snow-laden deer runs. Thick sandstone canvas and knee beneath hit ground. Heavy from the weight of glabro form and the animal now draped over his shoulders. He shrugs off the heavy stag so that it falls to the ground beside him.
Leaving it to be honorably consumed – first by wolves' teeth. Later by carrion birds. Eventually by the vermin his tribe worshiped at totem. Finally, whatever is left, by worms and the earth beneath that is their domain. "For guardian 'n' elder bellies," a glance to Nina, to indicate sharing the giving of the kill as homage. The stag is indeed great, large enough to supply a feast for a pack and then some
His hands, now freed from where they'd hooked his arms over the flank and thick neck of the animal, find dirt. In a flash he is again wolf. Dirty blonde and brown, with splashes (more splotches) of unclean off-white. Milk swirls in coffee. A bulldog-mutt of a mottled beast, stout and thick, more musclebound than quick. A boulder of fur and fury, though his temper is balanced and he seems all-at-once relieved and reinvigorated to be surrounded by wolves in a wild place.
The offering is forgotten as soon as it is given. He seems unwilling to waste anyone's time.
"Rabid Jack Rabbit," the name on wolf tongue, and some might realize his form coils with great legs, his ears perhaps a bit longer than average even as they are tucked back, and maybe long ago as a cub...
Maybe very long ago, the name might've seemed less ironic.
"Law in War, born of wolves under the half moon to gnaw on bones," his rank, cliath, plain in his very bearing, giving deference even to the other cliath that may be in the pack of guardians because they are just that – guardians of this sacred place, and him a lone wolf, stray, of the omega tribe.
But he says it anyway, "Cliath," with a yip. "Seeking a caern to protect and call home, and a little shelter from the storm," the last piece a whine as the storm growing above groans angrily.
Leaving it to be honorably consumed – first by wolves' teeth. Later by carrion birds. Eventually by the vermin his tribe worshiped at totem. Finally, whatever is left, by worms and the earth beneath that is their domain. "For guardian 'n' elder bellies," a glance to Nina, to indicate sharing the giving of the kill as homage. The stag is indeed great, large enough to supply a feast for a pack and then some
His hands, now freed from where they'd hooked his arms over the flank and thick neck of the animal, find dirt. In a flash he is again wolf. Dirty blonde and brown, with splashes (more splotches) of unclean off-white. Milk swirls in coffee. A bulldog-mutt of a mottled beast, stout and thick, more musclebound than quick. A boulder of fur and fury, though his temper is balanced and he seems all-at-once relieved and reinvigorated to be surrounded by wolves in a wild place.
The offering is forgotten as soon as it is given. He seems unwilling to waste anyone's time.
"Rabid Jack Rabbit," the name on wolf tongue, and some might realize his form coils with great legs, his ears perhaps a bit longer than average even as they are tucked back, and maybe long ago as a cub...
Maybe very long ago, the name might've seemed less ironic.
"Law in War, born of wolves under the half moon to gnaw on bones," his rank, cliath, plain in his very bearing, giving deference even to the other cliath that may be in the pack of guardians because they are just that – guardians of this sacred place, and him a lone wolf, stray, of the omega tribe.
But he says it anyway, "Cliath," with a yip. "Seeking a caern to protect and call home, and a little shelter from the storm," the last piece a whine as the storm growing above groans angrily.