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 Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 6:40 pm
 The borderlands were...well, bigger than Desert Spring had figured. And hotter. And certainly more dry. Not to say that there wasn't water here -- but most of what there was was stagnant, fetid, and full of sand and mud. The sandy doe had been wandering the half-rotten desolate marshland at the edge of the swamp for a few days, and had not yet found any sign of life besides the few small creatures that managed to survive on the sparse vegetation that grew in these strange climes. Desert Spring's wolf, Water Hunter, scouted the way in front of her, his well-trained nose, eyes, and ears searching for any sign of the buck who was rumored to live out here. The buck was, Spring was hoping, her father. When she had told her sister, Many Voices, of her plan to venture into the borderlands to attempt to find him, she had simply laughed. Stubborn-willed and determined to find out more about her own strange dreams of sand and sun, Spring had ignored her and decided to venture forth anyway. Even if the strange buck wasn't her father, he was sure to know something about the desert, living out here as he did. And there were stories about him, the strange gruff buck who was always asking passing acha about the sands of their homeland, searching in vain for... Well, Spring wasn't sure what he was searching for. But then again, she wasn't quite sure what she was searching for either, besides some sort of feeling of contentment that she hadn't been able to find so far in her life in the swamp. If she didn't know better, she would call it something like the Ache -- but while most kimeti's ache pulled them towards the swamp and the motherfather, Desert Spring's seemed to drag her away from the damp heat of the mangrove trees and towards another kind of world entirely. She was restless, and roving, and she needed something to ground her. Perhaps this was just another of her rebellious little interludes -- Many Voices had become used to her disappearing suddenly, though she always returned -- but Spring felt pulled to this place, and Spring was always one to follow her gut.
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Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 10:00 pm
Many Voices' laugh had been derisive -- she had asked her sister just what she was searching for. What would she do when she found it? Would she be disappointed? And what if she didn't like what she found? It was Voices' strange way of worrying about her siblings: she was as strong-willed as Spring, but it manifested differently. She was authoritative where Desert Spring was not. She had laughed, regarded Spring with her cool blue eyes and nearly permanently-furrowed brow, and then turned away. The voices in her head had told her to just let the damned fool go; there wasn't any sense in restraining her when she had already made up her mind, now was there? Now, about those succulent little fish in the stream...-*- Walks Without Rhythm himself was busy dragging a tree branch, ripe with berries swollen with juice, back to the cave; he had found it on his return from the swamp and was using his good fortune to replenish the caves' food stores. Beside him was a tortoise who really was not very much help at all: Knows No Better stood chewing one end of the branch that Slide dragged through the thick grasses. Only a hiss from the buck got him to stop, and after a moment Slide's head appeared over the tall sun-browned grasses: a buck with hollowed cheeks and deep-set, brightly glowing blue eyes, covered in dust and striped with the mud of the borderlands. He spat out a mouthful of bad-tasting bark and spit and turned on the tortoise, speaking in a hoarse voice: "--let go!" He was not a handsome buck -- lean and rangy and weathered, handsome in the way wind-worn rocks are handsome-- but if Desert Spring happened to spy him through the grasses, there was definitely some familial similarity there.
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Posted: Sun Apr 01, 2012 9:55 am
 There was a sudden yip from the brown wolf and it bolted ahead, its padded feet nearly soundless on the soft ground. Her eyes narrowing in excitement, Desert Spring leapt after her companion, running at his heels as stealthily as she could. The two were practiced in hunting together, and needed nothing but the silent communication of their body language to understand one another. Water Hunter slowed, slinking on his belly through a patch of tall grass. Spring bent as low as she could and did the same, and soon two pairs of blue eyes were peering out between the waving stalks at the buck and his tortoise. The doe's heart leapt as she examined the weatherworn buck; the similarities were almost undeniable. There were her own blue eyes, the sandy brown of her sister's coat, the slick of her own smooth scaleless back, Many Voices' tuft of hair, the extra fur at her ankles. Wanting to see how the buck would react to interruption before venturing forth herself, Desert Spring cast a look to Water Hunter and flicked an ear in the buck's direction. With a snuffle of understanding, the wolf rose soundlessly to his feet and padded nonchalantly down the hill towards their quarry.
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Posted: Mon Apr 02, 2012 9:49 am
The tortoise was the first to recognize the intrusion: it picked up its head and stared directly at Desert Spring with its beady, black eyes. Otherwise it did not move, but the tortoise's irascible stare was perhaps enough to unnerve her. It didn't blink, it didn't move, it didn't voice any concerns -- it just stared, and its jaw shifted slowly sideways to crunch through another mouthful of dried leaves and bark. The force of its stare is nearly physical ... though it's hard to imagine any intelligence behind those beady eyes. In time, noting the tortoise's lack of movement (interpreted as a lack of doing anything annoying for once), the buck picks up his head, tossing his dark hair, sand-crusted, out of his face. When the wolf approaches him, Slide -- having never seen a wolf before -- immediately changes posture. The effect is subtle, but there: a tightening of muscles, a wary and watchful look about him that suggests he would not bolt, but fight. But he holds his action for now, looking with interest at the wolf. He has never seen one before.
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Posted: Tue Apr 03, 2012 5:37 pm
 Desert Spring watches Water Hunter slide down the hill, his movements sure but not threatening. Her eyes slide to watch the buck, taking in his reaction. She sees him tense and hold his ground, his muscles clearly visible underneath his weather-worn hide. Then she notices the tortoise. It's staring at her. In a way that's actually quite unnerving. Good god, does it even blink? Spring narrows her eyes and holds its gaze. A few moments pass in stillness and silence. Then Spring stands, slowly, her head rising above the waving grasses. "Your turtle is staring at me."
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Posted: Tue Apr 03, 2012 9:29 pm
The tortoise is probably much smarter than anyone -- especially Slide -- gives it credit for. However, it does not at all seem interested in changing this assumption. Watching the doe, it blinks (finally!) and resumes chewing, wood and dried leaves crunching in its beak-like mouth. Swallowing, it turns its head slowly around to regard the buck behind it when he speaks -- in a rough voice, like he has swallowed a mouthful of sand: "He tends to do so."
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Posted: Wed Apr 04, 2012 8:29 pm
Desert Spring's eyes follow those of the tortoise and settle on the buck as he speaks. She raises an eyebrow and looks at him, thinking, before stepping forward out of the tall grass and sliding down the sandy hill. As she lands at the bottom she takes a few strange, fluid steps, as though her own legs are unsure of their footing.
"Water Hunter. Come." The doe makes a clicking sound with her mouth and the wolf pads softly back to her, taking up a position where it can watch the tortoise in case it has any strange viciousness hiding inside that strange shell. Spring's eyes are fixed on the blue-within-blue of the buck's own. "Are you the one who dreams of the desert?" she asks promptly, her voice curious and not even a little bit shy.
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Posted: Wed Apr 04, 2012 8:57 pm
The doe looks like him -- Desert Spring will see Slide indulge in a rare moment of indecision and uncertainty, which disappears when she speaks. She looks just like him, disturbingly so, and with sudden clarity he realizes who she is. "I am," he says, unwilling to admit to his sudden realization. Frustrated, he carves a groove in the sandy dirt with one hoof, which rapidly fills in again. "I have not yet made it there."
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 3:25 pm
Spring flicks a tuft of pale green hair out of her eyes and narrows her mouth, understanding the buck's frustration. "Then it's good that I've finally found you. I'm Desert Spring. I think that I'm your daughter."
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 3:29 pm
"What makes you think so?" It is idle challenge, but he can see the truth in her words, in a way that only Meets-the-Sea would be able to understand. The doe has left her mark on her mate in ways that not even Slide understands. And then, a moment later, he relents, realizing that this question was likely too gruff for the doe (and in this, he may misjudge her). He flicks sand-crusted hair out of his eyes, which patters against his head, "Beyond the fact you look just like me."
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 3:41 pm
A flat look of something like scorn makes its way across Spring's face at the buck's challenge and she snorts, rolling her eyes sarcastically. "Don't be ridiculous, dad. I can tell you know just as well as I do." She raises an eyebrow. "My sister Many Voices looks just like you too. Together it's pretty undeniable."
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 8:54 pm
"Did you bring her?" This piques Slide's interest and he looks around -- though it is farce. He means to tease her, in his own odd way. There is no way another doe could have crept through the grasses, though, if there is indeed a doe, she has done a fine job of being stealthy. Slide clucks his tongue at the turtle and Knows No Better finally moves away from the branch it had been chewing on, plodding his way back to his master. "And where have you come from?"
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Posted: Sat Apr 07, 2012 8:49 am
Desert Spring shakes her head -- a bit testily -- and looks back in the direction of the swamp from which she has come. "No, she is not here." A frown crosses the doe's face, and for a moment she looks like a feisty little filly who has not gotten what she wants. "When I told her where I was going she laughed at me. But now..." she grins. "We live in the swamp...but I have never been quite satisfied there."
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Posted: Sat Apr 07, 2012 2:55 pm
"I have a cave in the borderlands, not far from here." And though the cave is small, some recent digging and exploring resulted in Slide finding what might be another chamber of the cave, if he could figure out some way to widen the entrance. He hasn't tried kicking it open yet, but he's considered it. Not for the first time he wishes he could use the tortoise as a battering ram.
"I suppose she would worry if you did not come back -- .. or else she would come explore, as well. But my mate and I live in the cave," he adds, looking over his shoulder towards it. "As well as a mongoose and a fennec." And then, after a pointed pause, "And the turtle."
It is as close to an invitation as Slide will consciously offer.
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 11:02 am
Desert Spring nods, understanding her father's invitation for what it is. "She would probably think I had been eaten by a crocodile," the doe replies, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "And although she was skeptical at first, I'm sure she would love to meet you." Not to mention the fact that Spring was not going to pass up a chance to gloat that she had been right and her sister had not.
Spring looks over the scene before her -- her newfound father, the tortoise, the large branch of berries. "Are you taking that back to your cave? Water Hunter and I will help you carry it --" it is not a question. At the sound of his name, the wolf stands and pads over to Walks Without Rhythm and stretches his forelegs out into a bow, a clear sign of deference. " -- and then we will know how to find you again once we have returned to the swamp to fetch Many Voices."
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