It's dangerous being free,
but most come to like the taste o' it
ygritte wildling • female • heterosexual • loner • no love interest • mentions: the pack • tags:
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Winter held like a pup at it’s mother’s teat, it clung to the air in chills and nips that sent shivers through the red wolf’s bones. She was a skinny thing, but her muscles held a strength to them that she looked not to have. Her eyes were as bright blue as the sky and her coat as red as the leaves in the fall. She was smaller than the average wolf, having been born a runt. She was made for the wilds, you could see it in her eyes, she was no ordinary wolves. Most lusted for the feel of other wolves at their side, for the sound of howls synchronizing together as a song, to hear the talk of others when they woke from their nightly slumber, but she had never felt such a way. Ygritte was the daughter of a rogue and she made it known well enough. She was stubborn and often overtly confident. She had been on her own for two and a half years now, struggling to find food and water but not even once had she regretted the sudden decision she had made when she was but a year of age.
This specific morning, she found herself at the side of a river, the scent of the water fresh and taunting. She had dropped her head to lap at the cool liquid with its crystal-like shimmers dancing across the surface. It tasted as freshly as it smelled, cool and welcoming as it slid down the back of her throat. She took her fill and for many moments watched the fishes dance through the water they are much to unawares of my presence. She placed a paw gently in the center of the water, a chill coursing through her bones but it delighted her. The fish scattered to either side of her paws, momentarily thrown into disarray. aye, much better the thought made her smile and before long she moved along, leaving the fish to their routine.
The forest itself smelled strongly of pine and snow. Winter still grasped it tightly, yet Ygritte would not complain. She liked the winter, far more than she liked the cold. It was crisp and fresh and left the world in a beautiful array of whites. When the sun set, the purples and blues of the sky would dance across the snow as well… if you looked at them from the right angle that is. The only downfall was the lack of food, which showed as evidently upon her as it did upon the barren trees and the skinny sacks of bones she hunted in the night. The rabbits never had enough meat. They were bitter and wiry, their meat catching between her teeth leaving her unsatisfied after every meal. Her own pelt was pulled taut against her bones, but her long fur, however dulled by hunger, left her looking fuller than she truly was.
Her hunger had started out as a slight pang in her stomach, only to roil into a swelter fire until at last it had settled and dulled and seemed almost not there at all. She was starving, she knew that but at least the pain had subsided and just now she happened to catch the scent of rabbit in the distance. It crossed the borders of the pack she had grown to linger near, but she cared littler. Their scents assaulted her nostrils the moment she stepped through them. The pack was strong… for winter that is, but she had faith in her talent to avoid detection. She had been doing it for at least a year now, sneaking into their territory to snack upon their prey. She never took large beasts, only small ones, ones that would go unnoticed. The rabbit for instance.
It sat before her with wide eyes and large ears, it seemed fatter than the ones she had grown used to, perhaps due to the spring beginning to show, but it still was not fat enough to sustain her. Yet she would complain not. She sank to her stomach and with light steps crept forward. Her tail moved ever so slightly to balance the young wolf, but it made no rustled in the dirt. She grew closer until she was all but five tail lengths away and she sprung, hunger and desperation seeming to race through her veins. The rabbit stood little chance against the ravenous she-wolf, a sharp scream leaving its throat as she severed its windpipe. It was over in moments as the minuscule creature fell limp between her jaws.
It was satisfying if only for a moment, her stomach grumbled in approval though it longed for much more than it had received. She sat back, her tail curling about her hindquarters with a light grace. Blood stained her chin, yet it blended with the red of her coat. Her tongue found its way across her jowls, clearing the remainder of the rabbit from her fur. The scent of the wolves was heavy here, but it was not so recent. She could pick out distinctive scents, a strong brute with a scent of confidence he held, the scent of a female with a dire lust for a singular wolf, an alpha with a curious tint of sadness. She had studied the scents, trying her hardest to learn each, perhaps if she knew their strengths and weaknesses, she could worm her way out of trouble should she stumble across them.
She let her front paws stretch out before her, letting her stomach rest against the cool ground. She was exhausted certainly, and full to add. She rolled to her side and closed her eyes, ears twitching as they listened for the sounds of other wolves. Comfort seeped into her bones as she let the winter air rustle her pelt and dance across her skin.
There are no men like me. There's only me.
jaime (the lion wolf) • male • heterosexual • beta • no love interest • mentions: • tags:
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-asleep in his den-