HOME | DD

Description
Summer, Year 762 of the New Age
Blackwood, near the Redwater
Featuring Triste

In.... out.... in... out...

Triste forcibly slowed his breathing, closing his eyes as he tried to drift off to sleep. In... out... in.... out...

Between one breath and the next, he was gone.

The next time he gained some form of cognition, he recognised the sensation of being weightless. He still remembered his first few out-of-body experiences; the panic, the horror of such an unnatural state of existence. However, years now into his training, the feeling was a familiar one, and even one he took some measure of pleasure from.

Leaving behind his body, leaving behind his worries... sometimes he worried it was too addictive a sensation.

However for now, he had a mission and he could not afford to let himself get distracted. So he drifted further from his body, expanding his consciousness till he found what he sought.

A lone wolf, foraging around in the forest not two leagues from where his body lay.

It took no more than a few seconds to push his consciousness into the dark creature's body. Any struggle the wolf's mind put up was quickly silenced by Triste's trained spirit, and a minute later the wolf body fell into a still calm, eyes gleaming with a cognisance they had not previously possessed.

Triste lowered the head of his new body, looking with mild interest at the strange new form. The smell of wolf hung heavily in the air around him, instantly recognisable, however in this body, with this form, the scent didn't strike the usual sense of fear into him. Instead, it seeped a warm comfort into his bones - further built upon by the other scents of wolf that still clung to him.

Stilling, Triste's eyes narrowed as he looked up and around, ears pricked alertly. There was more than one scent of wolf that he could detect, and that meant only one thing.

Pack.

Growling low in his throat at the thought that a pack of wolves had ventured close to his den without his knowledge, he stood and sniffed at the air, turning as he immediately caught the scents he was looking for.

There was only one thing for it; he couldn't allow them to remain so close to his den, the risk was too great.

Triste took a moment to trek back to his body, wanting to ensure its safety while he was absent. Arriving at the darkened copse of trees, he took a moment to gaze down upon himself thoughtfully, feeling an uncomfortable sensation of hunger before he shook it off and continued on his mission. Rubbing himself against the trees, he carefully left his scent to deter any visitors, before turning and leaving once more.

Breaking into a lope, Triste streaked through the forest, scenting the air every few steps to ensure he was on track. At one point he allowed himself the luxury of a brief howl, taking the risk of detection if it meant finding the pack. And indeed, there came an answering howl a moment later, calling him home.

He ran for a good distance before the scent grew strong enough that he let himself slow. Cautiously, he allowed himself to move forward, tensing as he caught sight of dark forms moving about in the shadows. Narrowing his eyes, he let out a slow breath, trying to ready himself to attack.

However, just as he had prepared himself to strike... one of the wolves came bounding out at him, letting out a startlingly loud half bark, half growl. Just as he regained his wit enough to get into a defensive position, the other wolf leapt... and bowled him over, yipping happily and licking at his face. Frozen, Triste let out an involuntary whine, ears laid back. The other wolf let out an answering sound, seeming confused, before backing off and allowing him to stand once more. Frowning, Triste stared at the wolf, feeling the thrill of a shock shoot through his veins as his own borrowed eyes met the gaze of the other wolf that was watching him mildly.

Triste shook his head, knowing that he had to get the job done. It was easy to forget that the wolves would happily kill him in his true form when they approached him with such enthusiasm in a borrowed skin... however the fact is they would, and he couldn't allow them to remain here as they were. The risk was too high.

Preparing himself to attack, ignoring the dull ache in his heart, he pitched a low growl... that cut off as two more furry shapes came bounding out of the shadows. Much smaller furry shapes.

Pups. Mine.

Triste reared back in shocked horror as he realised the other wolf and the pups were the family of the skin he had borrowed. Triste let out another distressed whine at the thought of having to kill not only a female, but children too - and in that moment, he knew he couldn't do it.

Ducking his head down, he tentatively greeted the wolf pups with a nudge of his nose, whuffing softly as they licked and growled playfully at him before darting back to their mother. As he watched the rambunctious little pups dancing around their mother, playfighting till the lupess cowed them with soft growls, he knew he was intruding on a family moment.

This wasn't his family. It shouldn't be him here.

Triste released the hold he had on the wolf's body, his spirit watching as the eyes grew more thoughtless and animalistic, the wolf growling at the air his spirit saturated before turning back to its family with a last wary look over its shoulder.

The stag allowed himself a moment to watch the family interacting, baying and nudging at each other, before he allowed the tug of his body to pull him away.

Triste opened his eyes, shuddering slightly as the feeling of being back in his real body settled over him. For the briefest of moments, his limbs felt large and clumsy, his head too heavy... however the moment passed, and soon he was clambering to his feet, shaking off the last tendrils of sleep.

The wolf pack was too close. Till they moved on, he would need to leave his den. Perhaps he could use this time to go and collect more herbs for drying - he was running low, after all.

It would be a hassle, having no den to sleep in for the next few nights. However he did not begrudge the wolf pack their lives either, and so he would do his best to avoid them till they were gone.

Smiling slightly at the remembered feeling of soft licks and baby fur against his cheeks, he shook his head and moved on.

Description
Summer, Year 762 of the New Age
Blackwood, near the Redwater
Featuring Triste

In.... out.... in... out...

Triste forcibly slowed his breathing, closing his eyes as he tried to drift off to sleep. In... out... in.... out...

Between one breath and the next, he was gone.

The next time he gained some form of cognition, he recognised the sensation of being weightless. He still remembered his first few out-of-body experiences; the panic, the horror of such an unnatural state of existence. However, years now into his training, the feeling was a familiar one, and even one he took some measure of pleasure from.

Leaving behind his body, leaving behind his worries... sometimes he worried it was too addictive a sensation.

However for now, he had a mission and he could not afford to let himself get distracted. So he drifted further from his body, expanding his consciousness till he found what he sought.

A lone wolf, foraging around in the forest not two leagues from where his body lay.

It took no more than a few seconds to push his consciousness into the dark creature's body. Any struggle the wolf's mind put up was quickly silenced by Triste's trained spirit, and a minute later the wolf body fell into a still calm, eyes gleaming with a cognisance they had not previously possessed.

Triste lowered the head of his new body, looking with mild interest at the strange new form. The smell of wolf hung heavily in the air around him, instantly recognisable, however in this body, with this form, the scent didn't strike the usual sense of fear into him. Instead, it seeped a warm comfort into his bones - further built upon by the other scents of wolf that still clung to him.

Stilling, Triste's eyes narrowed as he looked up and around, ears pricked alertly. There was more than one scent of wolf that he could detect, and that meant only one thing.

Pack.

Growling low in his throat at the thought that a pack of wolves had ventured close to his den without his knowledge, he stood and sniffed at the air, turning as he immediately caught the scents he was looking for.

There was only one thing for it; he couldn't allow them to remain so close to his den, the risk was too great.

Triste took a moment to trek back to his body, wanting to ensure its safety while he was absent. Arriving at the darkened copse of trees, he took a moment to gaze down upon himself thoughtfully, feeling an uncomfortable sensation of hunger before he shook it off and continued on his mission. Rubbing himself against the trees, he carefully left his scent to deter any visitors, before turning and leaving once more.

Breaking into a lope, Triste streaked through the forest, scenting the air every few steps to ensure he was on track. At one point he allowed himself the luxury of a brief howl, taking the risk of detection if it meant finding the pack. And indeed, there came an answering howl a moment later, calling him home.

He ran for a good distance before the scent grew strong enough that he let himself slow. Cautiously, he allowed himself to move forward, tensing as he caught sight of dark forms moving about in the shadows. Narrowing his eyes, he let out a slow breath, trying to ready himself to attack.

However, just as he had prepared himself to strike... one of the wolves came bounding out at him, letting out a startlingly loud half bark, half growl. Just as he regained his wit enough to get into a defensive position, the other wolf leapt... and bowled him over, yipping happily and licking at his face. Frozen, Triste let out an involuntary whine, ears laid back. The other wolf let out an answering sound, seeming confused, before backing off and allowing him to stand once more. Frowning, Triste stared at the wolf, feeling the thrill of a shock shoot through his veins as his own borrowed eyes met the gaze of the other wolf that was watching him mildly.

Triste shook his head, knowing that he had to get the job done. It was easy to forget that the wolves would happily kill him in his true form when they approached him with such enthusiasm in a borrowed skin... however the fact is they would, and he couldn't allow them to remain here as they were. The risk was too high.

Preparing himself to attack, ignoring the dull ache in his heart, he pitched a low growl... that cut off as two more furry shapes came bounding out of the shadows. Much smaller furry shapes.

Pups. Mine.

Triste reared back in shocked horror as he realised the other wolf and the pups were the family of the skin he had borrowed. Triste let out another distressed whine at the thought of having to kill not only a female, but children too - and in that moment, he knew he couldn't do it.

Ducking his head down, he tentatively greeted the wolf pups with a nudge of his nose, whuffing softly as they licked and growled playfully at him before darting back to their mother. As he watched the rambunctious little pups dancing around their mother, playfighting till the lupess cowed them with soft growls, he knew he was intruding on a family moment.

This wasn't his family. It shouldn't be him here.

Triste released the hold he had on the wolf's body, his spirit watching as the eyes grew more thoughtless and animalistic, the wolf growling at the air his spirit saturated before turning back to its family with a last wary look over its shoulder.

The stag allowed himself a moment to watch the family interacting, baying and nudging at each other, before he allowed the tug of his body to pull him away.

Triste opened his eyes, shuddering slightly as the feeling of being back in his real body settled over him. For the briefest of moments, his limbs felt large and clumsy, his head too heavy... however the moment passed, and soon he was clambering to his feet, shaking off the last tendrils of sleep.

The wolf pack was too close. Till they moved on, he would need to leave his den. Perhaps he could use this time to go and collect more herbs for drying - he was running low, after all.

It would be a hassle, having no den to sleep in for the next few nights. However he did not begrudge the wolf pack their lives either, and so he would do his best to avoid them till they were gone.

Smiling slightly at the remembered feeling of soft licks and baby fur against his cheeks, he shook his head and moved on.