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Description

Autumn 757

Blackwood, Ridgeback Range
Featuring Brutus and a scary white witch

<-- (Relevant context)

It was a good day to be a Blackwood.

A big cougar had been prowling the Blackwood side of the Ridgeback Range and had started to take a liking to tender fawnling flesh. Brutus had been chosen to go flush it out and perhaps discourage this kind of behavior in the future by way of killing it dead.

He wasn't the best tracker in the ranks but it didn't take an expert to smell fresh cat piss. The ranker it was, the fresher it must be and the fresher it was the closer the cat must be. Brutus had the advantage of being able to crush most things before they got close enough to kill him and thusly he'd been chosen for the job.

Hauling his tremendous bulk up the mountainside wasn't easy but he'd had plenty of practice. He'd tagged along with scouts and raiders from time to time, to see what it was like. Glenmore, at least, was a magical place overflowing with food and Brutus couldn't wait until Blackwood claimed its lush riches for their own. For now he had to settle for stuffing his maw as full as possible any time he had an excuse to range over the mountain.

One rocky slope at a time he huffed and thrust himself forward and up. The paths up here were no better than goat-trails, if that. Even in the chill alpine autumn air he was sweating now, his matted fur probably smelling near as rank as the bold cat if he'd bothered to care. So what if the cat smelled him coming? He welcomed a good fight.

He stopped to catch his breath and grinned a big open-mouthed grin. The cat had been here, and recently. Brutus crouched carefully and peered out around the valley before him.

There was movement- a streak of light- but it weren't no cat.

It was a doe?

Brutus let out a grunt of confusion before he pulled back behind the safety of the rockface. What was a doe doing out here?

Turning his head he saw her flash past- fast as a shooting star, and near as bright. Her ghostly white hair streamed behind her like a knot of albino cobras all rearing to strike.

Who was that? He'd never seen a doe so tiny or so bright. If she managed to live out on the treacherous mountains she must be a powerful witch indeed!

Was she chasing the cougar? That must be it. She was a powerful witch and she was chasing the cougar out of her territory. Brutus leaned closer to the rockface, glad his hide blended in with the shadows so he wouldn't be spotted from afar. He hoped she didn't have some sixth sense whereby she would know that he was intruding too.

He crouched, tucked his tail and held his breath for several long moments before he dared peer out around the rock again. Was she gone? She seemed to be gone. He didn't see no sign of the cougar either. She probably cornered it in one of the little blind valleys and killed it for daring to intrude.

He gave it another half-hour, just to be sure, before he crept out of his shadowy hole and tiptoed back down the mountain. When he failed at moving silently he decided it was better to move quickly and made the rest of the trip at a slightly-too-fast-for-safety jog.

Once he arrived safely back at his unit he reported that the cat were probably dead and never spoke of the matter again.

Wordcount: 565. Brutus be a derp.

Description

Autumn 757

Blackwood, Ridgeback Range
Featuring Brutus and a scary white witch

<-- (Relevant context)

It was a good day to be a Blackwood.

A big cougar had been prowling the Blackwood side of the Ridgeback Range and had started to take a liking to tender fawnling flesh. Brutus had been chosen to go flush it out and perhaps discourage this kind of behavior in the future by way of killing it dead.

He wasn't the best tracker in the ranks but it didn't take an expert to smell fresh cat piss. The ranker it was, the fresher it must be and the fresher it was the closer the cat must be. Brutus had the advantage of being able to crush most things before they got close enough to kill him and thusly he'd been chosen for the job.

Hauling his tremendous bulk up the mountainside wasn't easy but he'd had plenty of practice. He'd tagged along with scouts and raiders from time to time, to see what it was like. Glenmore, at least, was a magical place overflowing with food and Brutus couldn't wait until Blackwood claimed its lush riches for their own. For now he had to settle for stuffing his maw as full as possible any time he had an excuse to range over the mountain.

One rocky slope at a time he huffed and thrust himself forward and up. The paths up here were no better than goat-trails, if that. Even in the chill alpine autumn air he was sweating now, his matted fur probably smelling near as rank as the bold cat if he'd bothered to care. So what if the cat smelled him coming? He welcomed a good fight.

He stopped to catch his breath and grinned a big open-mouthed grin. The cat had been here, and recently. Brutus crouched carefully and peered out around the valley before him.

There was movement- a streak of light- but it weren't no cat.

It was a doe?

Brutus let out a grunt of confusion before he pulled back behind the safety of the rockface. What was a doe doing out here?

Turning his head he saw her flash past- fast as a shooting star, and near as bright. Her ghostly white hair streamed behind her like a knot of albino cobras all rearing to strike.

Who was that? He'd never seen a doe so tiny or so bright. If she managed to live out on the treacherous mountains she must be a powerful witch indeed!

Was she chasing the cougar? That must be it. She was a powerful witch and she was chasing the cougar out of her territory. Brutus leaned closer to the rockface, glad his hide blended in with the shadows so he wouldn't be spotted from afar. He hoped she didn't have some sixth sense whereby she would know that he was intruding too.

He crouched, tucked his tail and held his breath for several long moments before he dared peer out around the rock again. Was she gone? She seemed to be gone. He didn't see no sign of the cougar either. She probably cornered it in one of the little blind valleys and killed it for daring to intrude.

He gave it another half-hour, just to be sure, before he crept out of his shadowy hole and tiptoed back down the mountain. When he failed at moving silently he decided it was better to move quickly and made the rest of the trip at a slightly-too-fast-for-safety jog.

Once he arrived safely back at his unit he reported that the cat were probably dead and never spoke of the matter again.

Wordcount: 565. Brutus be a derp.