( ➴ ) ── of creatures and home

[kanni]

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────────────── 𝚢𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚎𝚟 ──────────────── ─ ─

she/they || 24 || starflower/sandalwood || the river || moose || mentions bear, hound

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raccoon easily returned the smile moose offered her, happy to leech off the other man's body heat and easy companionship. she could faintly pick hound's shouting over the rapid pattering of raindrops against the few leaves left in the branches above them, and almost felt bad that she had picked huddling away over helping with the tent. almost, as she knew that if she attempted to help, she'd be a hinderance more than anything. she was far more interested in discussing anything and everything with her family than actively accomplishing a task, and it was difficult for her to focus on something with so much sensory input at once. just focusing on the echoes of hound's booming timber, the occasional ripple of thunder across the sky, the feel of mud beneath her feet and moose's quieter words was a little intense. though the contact between bare skin and the earth was usually grounding for raccoon, the slip and slide of riverbank mud was just another distraction in the moment.
xxx
"my bread's good, or, well, as good as wet cheese bread can be, you know? bear's doing his best with what we've got but i can't expect a four course meal when the rain doesn't look like it's gonna let up anytime soon. my bet's it'll last until tomorrow morning. hopefully it ends before then, i need to cleanse some of my things and i need moonlight for it. cloudy skies really mess with the energies."
xxx
the brunette sighed, tearing off another hunk of her roll as she stared at the tumultuous river just feet away. it was hard to make out the rushing water in great detail, considering how quickly it had gotten dark with both the shorter days and current weather, but she could smell the mix of rotting leaves and wet river stones. raccoon chewed thoughtfully, mind tumbling down yet another winding path as she considered her upcoming rituals. some of them required heavy lifting of fallen tree branches and stones that what muscle she did have couldn't support on her own. perhaps she'd enlist moose and bear to help her set up the altars. the last few bites of roll went quick, and holding her now empty hands up to the rain, raccoon allowed the water to wash away the crumbs with a sigh.

[senna_]

───────➴𝐑𝐀𝐌

bria var ● she/her ● 23 ● location; campground → forest ● mentions; tag ● tags; hound

Ram’s gaze flitted down to where Hound’s hands were, watching him toy with a clump of soggy, carob-painted leaves. Her own hands were equally as damp, to the point where the lines present in her fingertips had begun to faintly shrivel, but she kept them tucked in her lap. She shifted uncomfortably; her pants were clinging to her skin, and she feared that one wrong move would split them right down the middle. While that was perhaps an exaggeration, given how this was not her first rodeo when it came to a little bit of rain, it most certainly did feel like it at the moment. Texture had always been something that bothered her. She hated the waxy feeling of silk, the way it caught the loose skin around her fingernails. The slimy feeling of mud was something exciting to run through, but running her fingers along the bubbly surface always made her shiver. It certainly did not help that Ram had unusually dry hands, either; it made everything feel uncomfortable, the way it rubbed against her skin, catching it at times. The cracks also did not help: she had a tendency to split the skin by doing the smallest thing. The pain that typically followed rarely bothered her, though. She’d experienced pain plenty in her past life, if one could call it that. Back when she was B…. Ram didn’t even want to finish thinking that line. She was Ram. Only Ram. And this was her home.

To her, she could consider someone like Hound to be that annoying little sibling that seemed to practically carry the whole family by being as energetic and loud as possible. The one that no matter how much he managed to get on one’s nerves, nobody could ever remain angered with him for too long. Ram personally couldn’t recall ever actually getting angry with Hound, but then again, her definition surely differed from someone else’s. She had her better and worse days with him, to put it simply. Today was a hearty neutral; his bounding about didn’t make her want to rip her ponytail right off her head, but she wasn’t about to leap in and join him on his ring-around-the-roses dance. So, then, perhaps it was always either a neutral or negative day. Ram couldn’t seem to gather up an image of her actually participating in his flighty actions. Except hunting, of course. While she would never admit it, Ram favoured Hound quite a lot when it came to that side of things. Hunting, patrolling: working. Although he had a vocal range so diverse and loud that he could easily scare away half the living beings by just saying hello, he was a good worker.

And never, ever would he hear that come from her lips.

“Well, bummer, I can never truly have that perfect image, then,” she sighed, as if truly disappointed, while gesturing down to herself. “Unless you’re willing to open that to a lass, as well? I’m not too sure I’m that willing to change myself into a lad specifically to see a midnight sky and a big, bright moon. Do you see sheep, too? Sheep jumping over the moon? Goodness, maybe seeing things through the eyes of a lad would be a total game-changer.” She pressed her finger to one ear and squinted her eyes at his crackling howl, as if the sound was piercing right through her, so painful and dreadful that the only thing she could do was wish upon an escape route to whisk her off elsewhere. It showed how much Hound appreciated his position in the pack, though; Ram wasn’t about to go around butting heads ─ physically ─ to prove herself the way he was willing to let out a suiting howl or stick his snout right into the ground.

“Yes,” she continued, pushing her hands off the cold stone she was perched on in order to obtain better momentum as she rose to full height. “Some weather watchers! You brilliant soul. Maybe, maybe they could even send the rain elsewhere once the pack decides they’ve had enough of it.” Oh, how ever did he manage to obtain such a positive attitude? Despite her contentment for the wet weather, something about the thought of being quite literally soaked right to the bone sent a ripple of displeasure through her. “And when you become a walking raindrop, Hound,” she carried on, lazily dragging her feet as she started up in his direction, “I will be the first in line to ring you out like a wet sheet. Oh, only you can see Her brightest light past those miles of rainclouds. I do so envy you.”

Ram’s strides came to an abrupt halt once she had neared the tree he was practically rolling all over, her own gaze shooting downward to observe the rippling effects of rainwater, which, in its haste, was flooding frantically towards the body of river water nearby. “Bear, our dear-most savour,” she murmured, turning her attention back towards the large man across the campground. Despite her exaggeration, Ram did indeed hold a high amount of respect for the man. He was the one that rounded her up and quite literally saved her life, after all. As he did for most, she had predicated.

She turned away sharply as an unnecessarily large bubble of water fell from a limp branch above and splashed across the top of her boot. Though it did not soak through, it was enough for her to hurry back to her safe spot on the rock. Hound was quick to follow, it seemed, but Ram was not about to protest. His presence was warming, like he’d cast an invisible blanket atop her back, even if she wasn’t about to expose it. She was almost about to snatch that thought back as he reached over and took her hand, if the dirty look she shot him wasn’t enough to do it on her own, but words were caught mid-throat as she realized he wasn’t being cheeky, but considerate. Her gaze flickered down to her opened palm, where a small handful of goods laid about. For a fleeting moment, another wave of warm spread through her; she didn’t have to be the smartest of the bunch to know that Hound hadn’t specifically been saving his goods for this very moment. For that, Ram shook her head lightly, unfolding both his hands with her free one to carefully roll the collected foods back into his own palms. “Keep it,” she insisted. “You’ll need it to keep your energy levels up; we all know we need your spirit more than mine. I’m not very hungry anyway,” she was quick to add, in case he was prepared to protest. “I’ve got a headache. It always kills my appetite.”

Unwilling to linger on the kind gesture much longer, for acts like so made her feel giddy, wanted, and everything else Ram didn’t need to portray, she jumped up with a start, practically tumbling back over in the process. “A hunt, yes, a patrol, absolutely!” she voiced quickly, desperate to take her mind off of her heated cheeks. “You’ve come prepared, I see. Your sword is only tempting me more.” It was her guilty pleasure, doing exactly what Hound had just suggested. The more items he listed, the more eager she was becoming. “Let me just grab my ─”

Hound had already set off in the woods, and in a fumble of flying hands and jittery feet, Ram managed to grab hold of her bow-and-arrow. Breaking out in a jog, she hurried to catch up to the ambitious hunter. “Well them, surely you must have an idea of what’s hiding around?” she pressed. “You and your hound senses, and all.” Her own eyes had already begun to dash about as she continued onward. For a moment, she hadn’t even realized Hound was speaking. Hound was always speaking; Ram had learned quickly that tuning him out wasn’t always the worst thing to do.

“I thought you were about to tell me that the man was a rabbit,” she mumbled as she zoned back in. Naïve Hound, one day you will scare away everything in this forest ─ trees included! “Was that man you, by chance? I see you’ve traded in your sock-gloves for something else, though. What is it that hounds snack on, anyway? Might that man have been an inspiration for you? Look where you are now, anyway. A man who likes rabbits, living in the woods, where nobody but his own pack sees him? Sounds rather familiar to me.”

[gray~]

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞
24 // he/him // the camp // tagged: fox, mustang, owl, fawn // mentioned: bear

Mud seeped into Mouse's bones as he knealt on the ground, and his fingers felt numb and useless as he tried to regather the tent poles that had fallen to the ground. He had to keep it together - snapping right now wouldn't do anyone any good. If they could just get one tent standing, they could finally get some shelter, try and warm up... but even that felt impossible.
He looked up as Mustang approached, and he couldn't help rolling his eyes at the confident strut and careless posture he carried. Of course he wasn't taking this seriously. Why would he? When did Mustang take anything seriously? He didn't voice any of this contempt though, instead gathering the last tent pole from the wet earth and getting to his feet as Mustang spoke. He started getting the wooden beams back into place, before his eyes snapped up at Mustang's words. Mouse was really trying. Trying to help, trying to stay hopeful, trying to keep it together. But Mustang hadn't been here for ten seconds, and already Mouse was ready to lose his patience. Mustang was lucky Mouse's hands were full, or he would have smacked him for the remark. He threw Mustang a dark look.
"Oh yeah, keep pushing Mustang. We'll see where my temper lands you."
He might have pushed the point, but he saw Owl rushing towards the group. Great. Exactly what they needed was more people fighting with this one godforsaken tent... Another peal of thunder rolled angrily over the camp, and Mouse steeled himself. They needed to sort this out. There were kids who'd be freezing, and Bear was counting on them... There was no time to start fights - or finish them, for that matter. Mouse nodded to Owl as she offered her help.
"We've lost the tarp," he yelled over the din of the storm. "It flew off into the trees, if you could -"
As he looked in the direction the tarp had flown, he saw Fawn rushing towards them, the heavy, sodden fabric weighing down on her little shoulders. Mouse suddenly had memories of being that age. Of lugging around logs that were too big for him, desperately wanting to feel useful. Mouse didn't see much of himself in Fawn at the best of times, but in that moment, he could almost feel the wet, itchy weight she was carrying on his own shoulders. He turned back to Owl.
"Help her with that," he finished his sentence, coming out as more of a blunt order than he intended. He turned back to Mustang and Fox, taking a firm grip on the poles on his side of the tent, determined not to let them fall. Whatever frustration he had with the two of the were put on pause until they were in the clear, not matter how much he wanted to get into it here and now. "Shall we try this again?"