((Oh, I think I'm going to have to take you up on the meeting part. That just sounds like too much fun. I think that would help me get a much better handle on her character too. Hope you guys are up for a little reading xD muse is at high tide right now.))
Lyra wrote:Current Mood: Wanderlust
Location: Hudson River Greenway
Interaction: None
Crush: Only small furry creatures. Ok bad joke.
Click image for pic source at planetware.com and map of the area.Lyra
The early evening found Lyra napping behind a dumpster just off of 173rd, and the cold mist rolling in off of the Hudson had awakened her. Condensing on her long hairs into a cascade of tiny droplets, the first order of business is to rid herself of the clinging wet. Thus with a yawn the lanky dog gets to her big paws and gives her wiry brindle pelt a healthy shake before stretching each leg in turn. Pink tongue flicking out to lick the tip of her nose, the familiar feeling of hunger begins to creep into the pit of her stomach. For every stray, that empty sensation is a constant companion, yet for Lyra it brings with it another desire: the need to hunt. A bit wistfully she turns her muzzle to the ground, nudging the remains of her morning meal, a rakishly thin tabby, now nothing more than a few tufts of fur. The little hairs immediately run up her nose, and she sneezes mightily.
Ah well, I guess I'll have to find another... She thinks, and a small smile crosses her face as she remembers the short chase earlier in the day.
Growing weary from her night's travels with the impeding dawn heavy on the horizon, Lyra had sought out the first dark place she came across. This happened to be a dim alleyway, and unfortunately for it's previous resident, it proved to be occupied. Just as she reached the corner, a thin tom stuck his nose out at the same time. The two creatures locked eyes and with a violent hiss the cat bolted. Perhaps the worst possible decision, the movement only cemented Lyra's decision and she immediately gave chase. The poor thing never had a chance, and Lyra was on it in less than ten strides, her heavy muzzle ensuring that he didn't suffer. Though the little tom looked as though he hadn't found a good meal in months, he proved to be a very nice one for Lyra.
Without further delay, she pads out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. Ears alert for any sound, she finds it quite empty and quickly crosses the street. Falling into an easy lope that takes her to into an alley on the north side of 172nd and with a quick jaunt to the right and a sharp left she is facing 173rd with Jay Hood Wright Park just on the other side. Rising high above the trees in the distance is the black iron tower of the George Washington Bridge, standing like a dark sentry over the green landscape. Lyra looks up at it for a long time, remembering the words of the last small pack of dogs she had encountered.
A pack that lives in the shadows... Feared by all and shrouded in mystery. Is this really the bridge where they live? Sounds like just they type of dogs I'd like to meet. The old dog and his two companions had been very instant that she not go any further in this direction, pleading with her to stay. But Lyra was far to curious to just leave it be at this point, and they were in no condition to stop her. It was almost as if something were driving her, drawing her closer to these unseen dogs. A desire stronger than anything she has felt since she first learned what it meant to run.
Lyra's thoughts are interrupted by the sound of approaching human voices, and she retreats further back into the alley. It is hard to imagine a creature as large as Lyra being able to hide in nothing more than the shade of a building, yet standing motionless with her dappled coat blending into the cement behind her, the humans simply walk by without a second look. As soon as they have passed, she bolts across the street and disappears into the shrubbery of the park. Skirting the abandoned playground, she slowly works her way northward across the park, stopping occasionally to sniff at the ground. The scents of many dogs meet her nose, though it is nearly impossible to discern if any of them belong to the pack she is looking for. More than likely, many of the scents she encounters belong to happy pets, being taken for walks by their owners. The thought brings a curl of distain to her lips, and she shakes her head with an irritated snort.
Looking up to see that she is nearing the road again, Lyra stops and looks back over the park. She hates to leave it so soon, as the grass had been a welcome break to her paws after so many days of hard sidewalk. Yet it is empty, not even a squirrel in sight that might be worth chasing. With a sigh, she turns around and lopes quickly across Haven Ave, trying to take the most direct route towards the massive towers, but she is suddenly faced by an unexpected barrier. A brick wall blocks her path, and standing up on her hind legs she can just barely see over it. The sight on the other side is enough to quell any thoughts of jumping it. It is a 25 ft drop straight down to the road below, and beyond that is a dizzying maze of elevated interchanges all buzzing with traffic as Riverside Drive merges onto the upper deck of the bridge. Dismayed, Lyra is considering having to give up and find another way around when she catches sight of a little foot bridge to the south.
Sliding back off the wall, Lyra heads for it but stops dead as she reaches the edge. The causeway is little more than large enough for two humans to fit side by side, and the entire thing is covered over with iron bars. It runs for several hundred feet across the road with the heavy traffic below roaring before making a sharp right turn and quickly descends below and out of sight. A small whine escaping her mouth, Lyra quickly backs up. The thought of traversing such a thing without having any idea where she is going is terrifying. She could very easily be trapped with no way to retreat.
Why do humans have to build such confounded structures? Do they really like running around like mice on a wire? Debating with herself, she sinks down to the ground in the shade of the wall and nervously licks one of her front legs. It is painfully clear that she can go no further north, the highway that is George Washington Bridge blocks her path. To travel back to the south, backtracking her steps for miles until she can find a safer passage to the river is almost as equally disheartening.
Panting slightly with the last heat of the day, Lyra watches for a long time as the sun sinks lower and she shadow in which she hides grows longer across the ground. No humans either approach the bridge, nor do any appear from the other side. Gathering enough resolve to push indecision and fear aside, she gets to her feet. Eyes intent, she slowly walks up to the edge again. She will run it, at top speed there is little that could stop her besides a car and it is unlikely she would encounter one on this tiny bridge, and not stop until her feet are back on the solid earth. Taking a deep breath, Lyra doesn't even wait to let it out before she bolts. Claws scrabbling on the cement she reaches her top speed in the span of three strides and steaks across the bridge. Taking the turn without hardly slowing at all causes her paws to skid painfully on the sidewalk, but there is no time for her to feel the sting as she immediately begins the descent. To her terror, a man riding one of those two wheeled devices is about halfway up as she starts down, but having come too far now to turn back, she just puts her head down and keeps running. By the time the cyclist has exclaimed his surprise, Lyra is already past him and at the bottom of the ramp. Turning on her heel, she runs off down beneath the maze of overpasses and through the scattered garbage and other debris. Her heart is pounding in her chest and fear clutches at her, driving her on through a narrow little tunnel and into some shrubbery. Suddenly, a short wall of Jersey barriers looms up in front of her, and without a second thought she leaps over them and out onto the road. The Henry Hudson Parkway is far from empty, and a chorus of car horns and screeching tires follow her across. Luckily, Lyra is moving so fast that she is has already leapt the second barrier and run off into the trees by the time the sound reaches her. Breaking cover without stopping, the river comes up to meet her and she runs full speed into it. The cold water a shock to her paws, she finally comes to a splashing stop in hock-deep water, panting heavily and staring out with unseeing eyes as her ripples spread away from her towards the distant shore of New Jersey.
Lyra's fear slowly subsides and is soon replaced with the heady exhilaration of success. She wants to howl with triumph, announce to the world that she, Lyra, has run the gauntlet and survived. But far to tired and heart still pounding painfully in her chest, she settles instead for a drink of the cool water. The sun is now barely over the horizon, and has set the sky on fire with a warm orange glow growing in the mist as is kicks up off the riven and streams past her paws. The bridge is now nothing more than a silhouette against the steadily darkening sky, the towers rising impossibly high above her. It is big, bigger than anything she has ever seen. Even the enormous buildings of Manhattan seem small in comparison. A tiny red lighthouse stands darkened, unlit at the foot of the foundation, the golden mist thickening around it until only the tip-top of visible. Within moments, the warm glow is gone and the sun disappears from the sky, plummeting Lyra into a sudden darkness. Lifting her head from the water, she retreats back to shore.
After shaking the water from her coat once more, she begins to walk slowly towards the thickening shadows of the bridge. Just then a flicker of movement catches her attention, and she stops.
Did I see that? Was it real? She thinks, finding her breath catch in her throat. The area is eerily quiet and still despite the roar of traffic from the bridge above, and no noise accompanies the movement. With her ears perked she slowly approaches, lone figure in the fog, she passes into the darkness under the bridge.