Post by Pocket Kitsune on Oct 12, 2009 15:28:32 GMT -5
An ivory muzzle tracked the heavens--a silent, near-silver silhouette against the bloodless backdrop of the clouds, colored like the down of a fledgling dove--pale steel and shadow blue. Snow hung heavy in those clouds, however unassuming and innocent their color. Aisling's nostrils flared as she inhaled, the crisp scent of the silence and cold just before a winter storm hanging like a veil over the land. It had been days upon days since she'd last seen Roka, though the bitch's scent still clung to the corner of impassive stone--pungent and unmistakable, and colored, as ever, with the femm's irritable emotions.
But the whereabouts of the red hued fae was of little concern to her. As far as she was concerned, the less of the young upstart she saw, the better. She clung to the fringes of Kalte society--a member by name alone, but in truth with all the adornment of an outcast--a leper. Her title was equal, then, to an omega. Though Ayden had grown stronger in recent weeks, and his wounds were now nearly all entirely mended, neither of them had ventured far from the mouth of their humble den in recent days.
Except in rare cases, such as when hunger drove them from cover, as it did now. Aisling moved with her lithe, dancer's grace over the frozen expanse of earth, her steps high with spirit and self-assurance. Her golden eyes swept from side to side, diligent and ever watchful for the track of footsteps of prey. She had taken it upon herself to provide for the three--for however much her frame burned with resentment at the mere whisper of Roka's presence, she was not so cold as to force starvation upon the femm.
She slowed then, her ears swiveling as a muted bleat came sharply on the stale air, kissing her ears with a teasing promise. A kid. Often the mountain goats remained at impossible altitudes-- and bringing the sure-footed beasts down was a feat out of the question, even with a fully coordinated effort of more than one wolf. That the scent of one of their young was so temptingly close now was far too rare an opportunity to pass up.
It must have been driven down by the storm last night, she thought. As winter drew closer, food was a scarce thing for all creatures within Kalte--and the goats were no exception. The rich moss that grew from the thin topsoil in spring and winter had dwindled, forcing them to move to lower and lower elevations to forage.
She crouched, muscles rippling beneath her fur as she slowly stalked forward. I'll have to be cautious, she warned herself. I do not know if the babe is alone. And so, with hope and an empty stomach alike urging her on, she slowly began the long game of cat and mouse.
