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 Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2014 6:51 pm
 Hunger gnawed at her belly, making it twist painfully, but the thirst was even worse. It made a desert of her mouth, made it feel as though her throat were filled with scorching sand. There was water nearby. She could smell it. Just a little farther, and she could drink and then rest. If only she could make it that far. The snow-flecked female whined low in her throat, but it came out strangled and even more pitiful than she felt. It also hurt. But that pain was nothing compared to the pulsing, throbbing poison that was her paw. She had injured it in her flight from the ruins of a once-lush land. That would not have been a terrible problem for most, but it had proved Draga's undoing. Escaping the catastrophe, it had been impossible to keep the wound clean or even find any herbs that might help. There had been no safe place to stop and allow it to heal. Instead, she had been forced to forge onward with a bloodied paw. Infection had come as no great surprise. She needed a healer, but that was not very likely. Wouldn't it just be her luck to have survived this long, come this far, only to die now, in a foreign land, without even once having seen her sister. The very thought was enough to make her want to give up.
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Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2014 8:55 pm
 He'd done it again, oh yes he had! He'd been clever enough to sneak right in behind that shaman and dig up his precious, magical stick. Although, he had no idea how to use the magic in the stick, the point was he had found it, and that in itself was a great accomplishment.
Stavros pranced, head held high, a stick being approximately a foot in length clutched between his jaws. To a passerby it may have seemed like he'd found a meaty bone that was still warm, or an injured fawn ripe for the plucking but no... it was clearly a stick. There wasn't anything truly miraculous about the stick even, it was dirty, decaying and looked older than the hills themselves but perhaps it was all in the way you looked at things.
Having nobody to really share his joy with was the downside in his adventures, but he made sure to keep his collection all in one spot for the day when he could show the world his finds. They'd all be in awe certainly, his collection of sticks, rocks and a single seashell were something to behold! Or, that's what Stavros told himself at the end of the day. Maybe it helped him sleep better at night, who knew?
He was heading back to his collection then, a hollowed out tree that he'd marked as his own and returned to every night, but his nose told him somebody was close by. A quick sniff of the air revealed it was in the opposite direction than the direction he was headed in but he had to check it out anyways. Changing his course, he headed to the scent of the stranger but two thoughts suddenly popped into his head.
What if they'd come for his collection? Or worse still, his newly found stick.
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Posted: Mon Sep 15, 2014 10:31 pm
Draga shuffled slowly onward, her paw throbbing and the rest of her making enough noise to scare off any chance of a meal, even had she been capable of hunting more than a mouse at the moment. She was not entirely sure why she bothered. Some form of impossible stubbornness, perhaps? Survival as a force of habit?
Even if she managed not to die, what chance did she have of finding her sister, now? She did not even know where she was, let alone where to begin looking for one refugee who may or may not have survived. There would be no choice but to begin her search all over again. She struggled with the tears that were welling up in her eyes. The last thing she needed was to lose more water. Besides, she always got an awful headache whenever she cried, and she hardly needed any more pain to add to the list.
Over the pounding in her head and the loud rustling of her own uneven footsteps, Draga thought she heard something. She stopped. "Who's there?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2014 9:06 pm
Stavros heard something moving closer toward him and for the moment he was torn, did he go find out what it was or did he run away and never return? Well, it might be advantageous to find out whatever or whoever was after his stick...
Too late, the thing said hello! He'd been caught, found out, he couldn't even sneak away now! But, he had unfinished business first...
Stavros quickly found the largest tree around and ran to hide his precious stick. Placing it near the base, he shoved it with his nose so it was partially covered by an overly large root. Grey eyes stared at the stick, transfixed, he wanted to dig a hole, bury it until he could get back to it but there was no time! His stick would be safe. Stavros turned his head left, then right, with a determined look on his face... yes, to his knowledge nobody had seen him place the stick. It was safe.
That finished, Stavros felt better and trotted toward the direction of the noise, and it didn't take him long to find the owner. She was moving quite slowly, and for a very good reason, she was injured and actually looked quite sick. Having the tactful abilities of a newborn pup, Stavros shouted, "Your paw!" as if it hadn't been obvious to her already.
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2014 3:56 pm
Draga was forced to wait on pins and needles for the stranger to show himself. The wait was long enough to make her wonder whether she had been imagining things, after all. Yet show himself, he did. Whatever she had been expecting, it had certainly not been a great, purple clown shouting at her.
The grey femme started at the sudden exclamation, which caused her to put undo pressure on her wounded paw, which in turn made her hiss and grit her teeth in an effort not to scream. Slowly, she loosened her jaw, panting slightly, and regarded him with a less than friendly look.
True, she preferred to be courteous, but she was not at her best just then. Wounded, startled, uncertain of her continued future...uncertain whether she wanted to have a future, no. Draga was most certainly not at her best.
"Yes. It is injured. Would you care to make any other keen observations?"
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2014 8:40 pm
The female's harsh words made Stavros stop for a second, sort of speechless. He wasn't all too familiar with proper conversation etiquette and he hadn't actually meant to be rude, it was clear he'd offended her. Spending all your time in the dirt did awful things for your social graces, that was for sure. Drooping his ears and tail Stavros opened his mouth and closed it again, what exactly did he say? "Sorry," he tried, but even he realized that was a pretty pathetic response.
Every time he met up with some one it spelled out disaster, you'd think he'd be used to it by now but he wasn't. Saying the right thing at the right moment, knowing when this was acceptable or when that was acceptable just baffled him.
Trying not to turn and run away with his tail between his legs was a hardship, Stavros only knew one way to clear up bad situations and that was disappearing. Something held him there, perhaps his morals or just the fact that it was too rude to leave after you'd just insulted someone. After long, agonizing seconds an idea popped into Stavros' head. Maybe it was a bad idea but it was something, and this awkward silence wasn't getting him anywhere fast.
"I can help you. Like... if you need something I mean, if you want! If you're not it's okay!" the poor male exclaimed, clearly flustered and tripping over his own words.
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Posted: Fri Sep 19, 2014 9:06 pm
Draga stifled a groan. How was it that she kept running into the strange ones? This one seemed so pitiful, too. She felt bad for snapping at him, particularly when he was so obviously upset at her words. But he had startled her, and she was hurt, and those would be good excuses except that there was no good excuse for being mean. She sighed.
And here he was wanting to help.
If she were going to be dying soon, she might rather do so alone, but honestly, this was probably the only offer of help she was going to get and her chances of managing on her own were...not that great. Part of her still wanted to lie down and give up, but it had been pushed aside by the presence of another. She was worried that she really might quit if she sent him away. But what could he do for her?
"Water," she said. It was part contemplation, part proclamation. "Could you help me get to the river?"
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