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 Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2025 2:22 am
 Life on the beach was a constant rhythmic cycle in a beautiful circle. Each morning had a peaceful air, unlike anything Te Fiti had ever experienced. Morning was her favorite time of day. The sweet smell of salt hung in the air, tickling your nose as the morning tide rolled in. Painted with the colorful rays of the morning sun dancing across the water in a spectacular display that she had only wished she was artistic enough to properly portray for others who hadn’t the luxury of living in such a blessed place. It brought with it the daily wake-up call for all the inhabitants of the beach of the seagulls squawking as they began their first hunt of the day. Life stirred around the beach all around, preparing to face the day in their own small way. For Te Fiti her day had begun a few hours ago. As always, she had risen before the sun to begin her rounds around the small piece of beachfront she called her territory. Her days consisted of a never-changing peaceful - albeit admittedly boring - routine. 1. Wake up and eat the remainder of the seafood that she had hunted the night before. Check.2. Spend at least an hour meditating and in prayers to the sea goddess for calm weather, good hunting, and thanking her for her bounty she provided. Check3. Watch the sunrise and enjoy rinsing off in the ocean. Check. 4. Check on the traveler’s caches to ensure they are still well-stocked. You are here! 5. Work on collecting supplies, goodies, and other shiny treasures that washed up on the beach. 6. Hunt her evening meal and breakfast for the next morning. 7. Sleep. Was it an absolutely mind-numbing routine for most people? Yes. Better question, was it a secretly mind-numbing and incredibly lonely routine for Te Fiti that she felt trapped in? ….Yes, yes it was. But she couldn't leave, not now - not ever! This was her home, this is where she had been born, and…this is where her clan had been nearly wiped out in a single night by a rogue tsunami nearly five years ago. At first the survivors banded together, vowing to rebuild their home and clan together. It didn’t take long for most to realize that they didn’t have the resources or manpower to sustain their comfortable standard of living they had before as the beach was devastated in the aftermath and required a huge undertaking for a successful cleanup effort. Some left immediately, some gave it a good college effort, and some were just simply forced by family or the need to provide a better life for their offspring. Slowly but surely, Te Fiti watched as she was left behind. The sole survivor left. She would not give up on her home, she would not give up on her people’s culture, she would not let her family’s deaths be in vain. She vowed to restore her home to its former glory, to continue honoring the traditions that had lived on through her, and most importantly, she would not allow the memory of this tragedy to be washed away by the waves. She would teach people about the dangers that the ocean could pose and do everything in her power to prevent more unnecessary bloodshed on its golden shores. She was dedicated to carrying on with her life's mission, even if it was mundane. Her sanity was being eroded slowly, like a rock worn down by the waves, until something completely unexpected happened. It had totally caught her off guard, rekindling a spark within her and giving her a reason to get up in the morning. She was now motivated and excited to see what the next day would bring. Te Fiti had been receiving thank-you gifts in return for her care caches for travelers. At first, they were small items, and she had responded in kind by leaving more valuable items. She had even begun purposely seeking out treasures and special goodies just to leave this mysterious gift-pal! From shells she found pretty, smooth beaded necklaces she strung together with seaweed, hard-to-hunt delights like crabs and mussels, to fossils like shark teeth and purses she had found along the shore. She craved each day the excitement of hunting for an even better offering than the day before. Part of her was dying to know what they thought of them. Were they impressed? Did they like the food she hunted? Did they end up wearing the necklaces she made for them? Or…or were they trading all of the treasures away, and all of this was nothing more than an elaborate misunderstood business transaction? Gods, she really hoped it wasn't just an elaborate misunderstanding on her part. Little did Te Fiti know that fate had planned for her to get answers to all her questions - and so much more than she could have ever expected! (WC: 828 )
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Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2025 9:43 pm
He wasn’t lonely– not really. There was comfort in the quiet he had sought. He once lived amongst his own family, rolling in grass and laughing under the many growing paws of his kin. It had been a good life, but not one that fit him, truly. Mountain did not care for the rules of his people– not the traditions, or how harshly they viewed outsiders, or how his name was given to him only when the previous Mountain died. Being nameless until the death of another had been a harsh reminder of his worth, a catalyst for his eventual departure, and Mountain didn’t miss that life. Perhaps he wished to see the faces of his siblings or his parents again, but the peace of stone and wind was tranquil enough. It should have been enough, and yet…
When he initially stumbled across the small cache of dried fish and carefully packed sea herbs, left so neatly in the shorelines below his territory, Mountain felt something in him shift. Someone had left the bundle for others, anyone, to find, and he found the action one that he’d take personally. It hadn’t been explicitly meant for him, but someone had wanted it to be seen, and Mountain wasn’t one to leave a gift unanswered. The fish was devoured, the herbs used across new scrapes from a failed hunt, and he spent the rest of that evening finding the perfect ‘thank you’. The next night, he left a gift of his own: a small carved trinket, polished smooth by the river edge, once his and now theirs. He had thought it’d end there, thought they’d either never return or receive the gift with a simple nod.
It didn’t end there.
The exchanges became a ritual; his present would be accepted, and in place of what once was would be a new offering. He didn’t know who they were, but he looked forward to their offerings, his previously still and calm heart now pounding with curiosity each morning. He always took the long route, giving the mysterious Other as much time as they’d need to place their answer. For a while, Mountain had respected their anonymity, although he couldn’t say why. It had felt right– felt just. He couldn’t help but wonder if they were alone, as he was, but he had shaken it from his mind.
Whoever it was, they clearly didn’t want to be found.
He had tried to do the same today, but his steps were too quick, his excitement too eager. She had recently left him a necklace, and Mountain bore it proudly. In his maw was a hastily, poorly twined necklace of his own, surrounding a single acorn. It wasn’t as beautiful as the one he wore, but he had been proud nonetheless. So prideful, in fact, that he had skipped steps and almost scurried to the shorelines. It shouldn’t have mattered, he would later ponder; the visitor never came at that time, and yet…
And yet, and yet, and yet.
He saw the silhouette before he smelled her, his ears perking and paw raised in the air, hovering. He debated turning. Debated immediately running for the hill, back and away, for he knew that scent, and knew he was about to ruin a ritual they had begun. He wondered briefly if he should, but Mountain was not good at planning. Instead, he stepped closer, head dipping to show no sign of hostility, carefully stepping closer towards the brown and cream of another ma’ome. He didn’t say anything– not that he had any idea of what to say, either. Maybe she’d see him before he got too close? Maybe he was giving her time to decide if she wanted to run, should she catch his scent. He wasn’t sure, but something in him was hopeful.
WC: 759
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Posted: Mon Jun 16, 2025 12:23 pm
Today’s gift was meant to be especially special as a piece to match the necklace that she had painstakingly crafted for her mysterious gift pal. It was an adjustable cuffed bracelet of interwoven palm fronds that she had carefully woven with her claws, almost akin to sewing needles, into a complex—and deceivingly strong—knotted cord. Set in the middle of the knots were three pieces of iridescent abalone shell that she had spent the afternoon diving into the depths for. Chipped into smaller oval-like pieces, Te Fiti had used fish fats to polish and shine the shells so they shimmered in the sunlight, their rainbow waves sparkling and danced with brilliance not unlike the very ocean they came from. Slowly, yet surely, piece by piece, she was planning to create a whole ensemble that matched the highly decorated ceremonial outfits of honored guests that her clan once would gift during important diplomatic visits or cross-clan ceremonies to welcome exchanges of new members, to encourage relations and renew bloodlines to avoid interbreeding. It felt only right for the person who had managed to share such joy with her and renewed her spark for life. Male or female, young or old, whether they had less than ideal reasons for their repeated exchanges, it really didn’t matter. To her, they had become an important part of her day and truly someone she wished she could muster up the courage to meet one day. One day… one day, she would not be a coward. Te Fiti thought to herself wistfully as she stepped into the grove that had become their ritual exchange spot. Her mind was lost in the clouds, daydreaming and playing out the possible scenarios of how she could introduce herself properly to her exchange partner without being well…too weird and awkward. I mean, how do you even approach that kind of subject? Just stand there and wait overnight for them in the strangest ambush ever known? How would she even start to explain that?! “Oh hi, don’t mind me I’m just the crazy person who has been leaving you gifts. Haha, hope you like them! Would you like to stay for dinner or…would you like to stay forever?†She scoffed at her own out-loud musing, her eyes rolling at the thought. Yeah, that would go over just swimmingly and not have them running to the hills. Wait. One sniff, two sniff, three sniffs. Oh gods, she knew that scent. It was a scent she had grown so familiar with and that she had spent far too much time analyzing to try and gather any clues on what the source was for each undernote. Musky and earthy, like the individual who bore such a scent came from the dirt themselves. It wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest. It reminded her of how the rainforests that dotted along the coasts smelled after a heavy rain. Te Fiti’s eyes widened with equal amounts of shock - and horror - as the heavy realization hit her. She was not alone. It was them. It was really them! Freezing dead in her tracks, her eyes fluttered wildly to take in every detail of his large form. He was stockier than she imagined, his form dwarfed her relatively petite stature. His markings were nothing like she had seen before, spotted and light in color he stood out amongst the dark foliage of the rainforest floor like a sore thumb. He was clearly designed for camouflage for a region far, far away from her home. Most importantly, he was wearing her necklace. Her chest swelled with a small sense of pride at the sight. He had liked her gifts enough that he was at least willing to wear her work on his person. As quickly as it had formed her little bubble of pride was popped and replaced with a pit of despair. It was them, he was here. And she just rolled up completely unannounced and unintentionally asked him to STAY AND LIVE WITH HER! She’d blown it. This was it. Her one and only chance to have this introduction go smoothly, and she had in her stupidity ruined it before she even had a proper chance for an introduction! Tears welled up in her eyes as her chest heaved heavily, a full-blown panic attack setting in. “I…†She began weakly, her mind racing to think of something, anything that she could say right now that could salvage the situation. Nope, she had nothing. “I’m sorry!†She exclaimed loudly. In one swift motion, she ripped the bracelet that she had made for him off of her leg, chucking it at the poor, bewildered Ma’ome before hastily turning tail to sprint back in the direction from which she had just come. Home. She needed to go home. It was safe there, and she could express her sorrow without fear of anyone accidentally seeing her and causing even more harm. Gods, this is not how she imagined this day would go. (WC: 829)
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Posted: Sun Jun 22, 2025 11:28 pm
He almost hadn’t heard her— it probably would have been better if he hadn’t. He had been frozen in place, piecing together memories of her scent lingering on his gifts, offering little to no answer to who she might be, leading him to his many wild tales, strung together late in the night when sleep was nothing more than a lost friend. She had been a mouse, once, back when the gifts had been smaller— lighter. Then, he had imagined her as a great bird, able to twine vines in talons and carefully, expertly twist around stone and shells with its grasp. Truthfully, those visions had always left the vaguest of disappointment, subtle but there. He had hoped his ritual partner would be someone he could someday speak to— understand, in some way. Someone who might even want to know about him, in return.
Someone like her.
He almost hadn’t heard her, but he did, his ears swiveling backwards as the absurdity of her words met him. Had she seen him already? No, surely not, no one would just blurt out to a total stranger something so forward, so… lonely? For the brief second she allotted him before turning, Mountain felt as if he had stepped into a private, sacred moment— something not for him, not meant for his ears and eyes. When she turned, he stepped back, taking in her full view with a held breath. There she was; his penpal, his gift partner, his ghost. She was real, very much alive, and-
And looking at him in complete undeniable despair and horror.
He made a move to step closer, to break the distance and, perhaps, break the silence. He possibly might have reached her before she broke into a flurry of movement, but he had hesitated, his eyes spotting his reflection in hers. Did he frighten her? She was much smaller than him; had he done something to cause such fright?
“I-“
She, with a speed he couldn’t hope to match, burst into movement, ripping the bracelet off and tossing it his way. His eyes screwed shut moments before it smacked into his face, leaving a sharp, sting between his brows. It was enough of a startle to momentarily stun him, a paw raising to rub at the bridge of his muzzle.
What hurt more was the cold dagger of rejection embedded into his chest, spreading across his lungs and rib cage, digging into his heart with frigid claws. She had fled when she saw him— ran as fast as she could to anywhere else, somewhere he wasn’t. She had taken one look at him, and bolted, leaving him behind to stare at her rapidly retreating shadow.
“Or would you like to stay forever?”
No- he couldn’t leave it at that.
He wouldn’t.
His paw hovered over the little woven bracelet she’d made— still warm, still hers —and he exhaled loudly, dread and apprehension mixing into a great big sigh. He fumbled quickly, shakily shoving the bracelet onto a clumsy leg, his legs untangeling themselves from his stupor. It was too tight, not prepared for the stocky legs of a large hunter such as he, but it felt right against his fur.
He needed to tell her.
He had never been good at fast decisions, nor quick to act, but he knew if he didn’t he’d never see her again. Never share a present early in the morning, or draw small symbols of gratitude in the sand beside each bushel. He’d lose her forever, and the one thing he knew with all certainty was that he couldn’t let that happen.
So he wouldn’t.
He surged after her. It wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t pretty— he was made for strength, not speed, but the sand caved under his paws all the same. What he couldn’t do in horsepower alone he would make up for in endurance, chasing after the deep footsteps of a feline hellbent on getting as far as possible. His eyes locked on the path she had taken, a flash of creams and browns caught in the distance. He broke what distance he could, until he was close enough to smell her panicked but warm scent. That was all he knew of her— he didn’t even know her name, but he knew that salt-tinged, sea breeze scent anywhere.
“You-!” He gasped between deep breaths. It wasn’t loud enough, too rough and unused. He pushed harder.
“Stop!” He yelled. It wasn’t an order, instead more of a plea, desperate and strained. “I didn’t-“ his voice cut off, a low grunt of frustration following as he turned all focus on to getting closer— at keeping up. Somehow, someway, he’d get her to stop so he could tell her everything he wanted to say.
WC: 794
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Posted: Sun Jul 06, 2025 10:10 pm
She had gotten to freely dash through the jungle for a few minutes, putting a significant distance between her and Mountain. She knew these slick cliffs like the back of her paw, and while he would have to take things slow and careful with his large, bulky frame climbing down them, Fiti was able to nimbly hop in an almost bunny-like fashion from rock to rock to escape down the steep cliffside. “STOP!” It…couldn’t be, could it? Fiti couldn’t help but hesitate at the soft, distant cries from the distressed male echoing off the cliffs, her ears on a swivel as she searched for confirmation that she had actually heard him calling after her. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited there, silently, with her entire body frozen with the hope that maybe just maybe there was a chance she hadn’t completely screwed this up. Silence was all that awaited her. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Of course, she had just been imagining things. There was no way after that awful freudian slip that he would be willingly wanting to continue their…. whatever this was. She was alone, again. She would be returning to her days filled with monotony and crushing loneliness, with only the crabs and the ghosts of her past to keep her company. Perhaps, she considered, it was time to give up the hope of building a life here with her family’s homeland and accept that, like all the others, she too would need to move on to find greener pastures and a second chance at a community elsewhere. The tears that had already been welling up in her eyes finally broke free, rolling down her fluffy cheeks. Her ears drooped low as her tail tucked itself between her legs. If you looked up in the dictionary an example of a depressed cat her current state would no doubt be next to it, the epitome of pitiful depression, and someone at an all-time low. What she didn’t realize was that unknowingly her descent had slowed - opening up an opportunity for her secret gift pal the chance to catch up and finally confront her on her outburst- as she dejectedly continued back to her home. (WC: 368 )
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Posted: Thu Jul 10, 2025 10:06 pm
His muscles burned. His claws scrapped over stone, the cliffside too steep for comfort. It reminded him of his mountains, but back then he always walked carefully— slowly. Obviously, right now, he couldn’t afford such luxuries; he had to catch the flash of creams and browns gaining distance with each stumble Mountain made.
The thick jungle was not terrain he found himself accustomed to, although the soft ground welcomed tired, sore paws once he descended upon it, his feet thumping heavily against its back as the last patch of rock and dirty gave way into moss and grass. He had briefly lost her, his eyes sharp and breath heavy. Where had she gone?
He was grateful to remember her scent so well, wisps of sea salt and earth catching his keen nose in the gentle breeze. He pushed forward, chasing after the scent, until…
He found her!
She was not running— wasn’t leaping or dashing; she looked dejected. Her sprint had slowed into a lifeless walk, and while Mountain pained to see his friend trudge through mossy green, he felt a twinge of gratitude. He could finally reach her.
He slipped into the trees, weaving through trunks and brush as he moved to cut her off. off. He needed to be quick— she was still faster, and he couldn’t afford a mistake. Once he was within a few swift steps from her, he lunged, leaping in-front of the smaller ma’ome with a low grunt and shake of his head, an ankle taking the brute of his misstep. It was fine; he’d deal with it later.
“You didn’t let me answer!” He panted, surprised at how breathless he had become. “I’d love to stay for dinner,” he rumbled, voice raw and hopeful, eyes warm and soft. “Please, don’t run.”
WC: 298
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