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 Posted: Fri Sep 11, 2015 7:31 am
Ysalda stretched.
With it, her tiny front talons — still an infant’s, for all practical purposes, but sharp enough just the same — gouged into the earth, making mini furrows in their wake as she kneaded and yawned. Behind her, her tail swished and then arched, scales rippling in time with the stretch. Today was a good day. Upon finishing, she purred, wriggling low so that her belly brushed the dirt and dipping her snout so that her yellow eyes could scour the ground level of the encampment for anything that moved.
Mother had said they could go out today. Ysalda was not entirely sure what all ‘out’ entailed, but she knew it was something that you only did once you were Big. Or, at the very least Big Enough. Which meant that she was big, or getting there. She also knew it meant leaving the confines of the encampment that had been her home and all her world so far throughout her young life, and new was almost as appealing as big—if not moreso. Surely between being big and getting to see new all in the process of going ‘out’, she could find adventure.
Perhaps bring back a trophy to her younger siblings to show off the true might of her accomplishments. She preened at the though, another soft rumble building up in her—
BUG.
Ysalda froze for all of a half second before dart-scrambling forward: shoving off with her hind legs and not getting quite as much traction as intended, which lead to several rushed pushes, a fumble and then a successful lunge towards the prey. She coiled around the spot where it had been, front legs and talons making a ‘cage’, snout propped atop and body weight flat to the earth, vibrating with satisfaction.
Surely, surely she had caught it.
Now all she had to do was cheeecckkk…? Upon carefully lifting a paw aside to peer in, not wanting to allow any captured prey to escape, she squinted, and then sniffed. Nothing, nothing, nothing—perhaps she had accidentally crushed it?
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Posted: Fri Sep 18, 2015 6:36 am
Malta finished all her usual waking-time chores, ensured that she didn't have anything pressing to do in her actual craft (that Roshon couldn't take care of), and that all her other babies were where they should be, before seeking out her first-hatched baby. “Ysasa!” she called, “Ysalda, my sweet...” she picked up a basket – big and thick enough to carry an orakoi, with vine tendrils that could be used to secure them in the basket – and went out to look for her. “There you are!” she said, putting the basket down and leaning in to investigate her daughter's activities, “What have you caught?” Oh. Nothing. Oops. “You'll get it next time.” she said, encouragingly, pulling the basket closer with her tail, “Are you ready to go now, Ysalda? Are you ready to go out?” She smiled down at her brightly colored emerald jewel of an offspring, “Are you ready to go flying?” In the basket, of course, not with her little bitty wings. Yet. “I brought the basket, so we can go flying and see everything from up high, if you want.” Ysalda had liked being on Malta's back, surely this wouldn't be too different. And, where Malta wanted to go (for both supplies and teaching) was only accessible on the wing... ----- O'er the broken hills we march, for Soudana's glor-y, crushing her foes beneath our might, sharper than any blade we be...Uniformed Oblivionites, dressed in the dark colors of the Soldul army marched in a disciplined line through the craggy pass of the Expanse. They were tired, but onward they had to go, if they wanted to reach their base. There, there would be beds and food and drink. The beds weren't particularly soft or warm, and none of them expected the food to be good, or the drink for that matter. But they would be beds, food, and drink none the less...
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Posted: Sun Sep 20, 2015 8:23 am
Ysalda perked up, head lifting to swivel around at the sound of her mother’s voice. On spotting her, she rumbled with a soft purr, butt wriggling for a moment with curiosity as she trotted over towards the provided basket. “Got away,” she asserted. “Maybe smooshed it. Too little.”
After several thorough sniffs and a circle or two around the basket, Ysalda gave a trill of excitement, scrabbling to open it, and then climb in. Upon finally succeeding in nosing the top up on one side, she chirruped and proceeded to push, wriggling herself up, over, and in: a small ball of green lizard coiled in the base of it with her tail hanging loosely over the edge and swishing with her pleasure as she purred.
“Mama, mama—fits!” Ysalda peaked her snout out the opposite side, luminous yellow eyes wide and keen with curious anticipation. “Mama next.” With the words, she pulled her tail in, coiling it towards herself and around her small body to make ‘room’ for her mother to join her in the basket. “Then up, up, up!” A thought occurred to her. “Be prey there? Gonna hunt? Wanna smoosh.” She kneaded the base of the basket, purring all the more heartily at this thought, prey bugs being caught and squashed beneath her ferocious claws.
Yes, this would be a good out.
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2015 9:44 am
Malta looked at the ground that Ysalda had been inspecting. “I don't think you smooshed it, dear. It just got away... that means you can try to catch it again, next time. Maybe next time.” She watched as Ysalda tucked herself into the basket, pleased that it fit her so well. “Yes, I can see that!” Malta smiled and nosed her orakoi, tucking her in here, checking her there. “Good, good, because we want you to be comfortable in it, don't we, sweetling? It is a trip, after all...” Ysalda did indeed fit, and Malta could see that the ties would secure her well. Good. She'd made it just right. “Mama doesn't get in the basket. Mama carries the basket, up and up...” She nosed at the vines and they tied themselves across the top, making nice, pretty bows. “Up and up and away, and then down...” she checked the ties again, making absolutely positively sure that they were perfect. “They'll be prey there,” hopefully small prey, like maybe bouken. Ysalda did need to practice hunting, after all, as much as she needed to practice her magic and learn plants... “and plants, and all kinds of things, you'll see!” She steadied the basket's handle with a claw before taking basket securely in her mouth. “Awr you rehdy to go uph uph uph, 'sasa?” she said, lifting the basket.
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Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2015 4:30 pm
Ysalda rumbled, hunkering down as her mother spoke and the basket subsequently lifted. Excitement rippled through her because — though she had gone some distance outside of their home territory in the past — this would be, if she understood correctly, a much more expansive adventure, trekking into distances much further out than she’d ever been allowed to venture previously. This meant, obviously, that she was getting big and strong and capable. At least, enough so that her mother considered her ready for this degree of exploration.
When her mother took off, the basket jerking with her thrust and their sharp change in direction and altitude, Ysalda squeaked, momentarily freezing in the confines of the protective carrier. Then, she cooed, scrambling and nosing at the weaving. She wanted to see.
How high were they?
Where were they?
How fast were they going?
And what all was down there, far, far below?
The wind rustled by the outside of the basket’s sides, and Ysalda keened with impatience, giving several encouraging barks to let her mother know how very ready she was to actually partake in this expedition. Flying was exciting, but she wanted to look and to do. Perhaps Mama would teach her how to fly soon, too, and then she wouldn’t have to be confined to a basket. This thought contented her to some degree at least, and she settled for pressing her snout to the basket’s weaving and sniffing the moving air as it rushed by in wait of their landing.
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Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2015 8:54 pm
Malta in the air was not a particularly graceful thing. Her wings were rounded, best when taking off or landing, and in those she didn't do too badly. But in the air, it was a lot of work to stay airborne, especially with her, ah, mass. She could, just barely, hear Ysalda over the wind in her ears, the rushing winds of flight that pulled her delicate earfins back, against her head. It was in her mouth, so she couldn't see into the basket from its particular angle, but she could feel it moving and swaying as Ysalda moved, making Malta slightly nervous. Was Ysalda looking out? No, the balance was wrong for that. Malta tried to focus on her flying, but the basket – and its precious occupant – worried her. What was she doing, that rattled the basket so? It was almost as though she was rubbing it but... Was she trying to burrow out?! “Muruh?” Malta mouthed, through the saliva-soaked handle. Why would Ysalda do that? Malta chirped at her to be a little more still, please, as she sighted her landing spot, out in the distance – there. There was a lovely little spot, full of trees and leafy things, easy to land in and fairly safe as far as she knew. She angled her wings and soared – maybe a little too fast for her liking – towards that spot, making a muddled chirrup at Ysalda, again, to warn her in some way for the sudden change in angle. Malta did not actually fear flying... but, needless to say, Malta was relieved when she landed, her claws touching the wonderfully solid ground with it's complement of plants, roots, and lichens...
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Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 12:02 pm
The instant the basket hit ground, Ysalda scrambled into action, nosing at the basket’s lid, pawing, and then pressing to push and hop out. After several bounds forward, she rumbled, stretching and kneading the earth with her talons and then raising her snout to sniff. “Gonna gonna hunt?”
The land here smelled similar to their nesting grounds — housing, likely, some of the same plants and minerals, being that they hadn’t traveled all that far — but distinctly distinguishable, too. New smells. Variations on the same smells. New sounds. Ysalda scurried forward, belly low to the ground as she investigated, pressing her snout to pebble, boulder, mound of earth, and plant alike as she went. Her excitedly sweeping tail only added to the trail she left.
“Maybe magic leaf.” Ysala nudged a plant. Mama knew where all the best magic leaves were. One day, Ysa would know too, though admittedly, bugs and beasts and critters were slightly more exciting, due mostly to how much they moved. “Maybe eat it.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 1:19 pm
“Yes, Ysasa, 'gonna hunt'. Your Auntie Peraphel is a hunter.” Malta informed Ysalda, untying the bindings and making sure she poured out of it okay. “She hunts big things.” she gave the air a sniff, scenting what was around them. If it was too dangerous, she'd have to figure out what to do. However, aside from the smell of some Magescian travellers (Oblivionites?) somewhere around, there wasn't too much that was dangerous, and those travellers usually kept to the roads. “If you find a pretty bug, you should bring it to her – she'll like that.” Peraphel, her sister, was a loud, boisterous, boastful hunter. Already, she and Ysalda got along well, the latter happily pouncing on the very game former. “Maybe she'll teach you that charge she said she would.” Malta followed along behind Ysalda, “No, not a magic leaf, just a leaf. It's special in its own way, but its not magic.” she nosed it and it grew a bright green new growth from it's tip, fresh leaves sprouting in their endless quest to the sun. She sniffed it again, just to be sure it was safe – Ysali or not, Ysalda was not nearly old enough to have a proper poison tolerance yet. After confirming it was safe (she'd already known it, but it didn't hurt to check,) she nodded, “And you can eat it, if you want! Your mama likes eating plants.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 2:47 pm
Ysalda preened, puffing up with satisfaction at the assertion that she could, in fact, eat at will. Despite her mother’s statement that it unfortunately wasn’t ‘magic’, the leaf remained plenty interesting enough to pounce on the next moment. Ysalda rumbled and chewed enthusiastically, digging her teeth in, grappling with it for a moment, and then backing up so she could growl and tug, lashing her head back and forth as though to play a game of tug-of-war with the plant.
It fought ferociously, and in the end — for the most part — ‘won’, at least in that it refused to be uprooted. But, for her efforts Ysa still got several fresh leaves to chew on, and when the tugging proved thoroughly to be in vain, she grew bored and surrendered, trotting off to go explore other new things.
This log. That stump. These bugs. A bed of flowers. A blanket of moss. An especially large and winged bug. Ysalda froze at that, yellow eyes blowing wide with fascination, then narrowing as she wriggled low and swished her butt from side to side. One, two, three…
“Bug—bug!” she declared in lieu of a proper battle cry and dashed off, chasing the vibrant butterfly off and wildly through the brush, uncaring of what or who might be sharing the space of the woods with her. Only a great deal on down the way, when a very strange, only barely familiar — but different — scent reached her nostrils in bulk, did Ysalda pause again. She squinted. Crunch, crunch, crunch, sounded the source of the smell, which was so strangely much liiiiikkke…
…the large eyeless Spike Tail? He was a ‘two-legger’, she knew, who came to visit Mama. But this wasn’t quite like his scent.
She edged closer, curiosity — for the moment — winning out over wary instinct. If she could just peek for a moment…
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Posted: Sun Oct 18, 2015 2:24 pm
The basket, of course, doubled as a container which did mean that Malta couldn't fill it too much. Of course, if she needed to, she could just make other baskets out of what she found there. She would have told Ysalda about the special root she'd found, but Ysalda seemed absorbed in her game with the vine, and Malta didn't want to distract her too much from her ferocity, not until she was done. “Sasa,” she called, finally digging up the root – a white, small grubby thing – “This is a special root, you can make a paste with it and it helps good things happen to their wounds...” she held it out for Ysalda, “It doesn't do anything on its own – its mostly water and starch, thats how the plant keeps its food for later...” she put it in the basket and soon Ysalda was distracted again. She was a lot to keep track of, and usually fine on her own, so when she charged off after a bug, Malta didn't follow her immediately... at least, not until she realized the direction that Ysalda was running in. The road is that way she thought, fighting the twang of fear that made her tense. It was nothing – should be nothing – to be afraid of yet. The road was still a ways, and Ysalda could not have gone that far. Wary, despite telling herself not to be, Malta trotted quickly through the woods, finally catching a glimpse of her bright-scaled firstborn. “Ysa....” she began to call, and then quieted. Crunch crunch crunch That was the sound of two legger boots on gravel, and it was close. Malta didn't want to alert them to her and Ysalda's presence there, in case they were hunters. It was best, always, to hide from such magescians – khehora hunters did not parley, Malta had learned, they lied and cheated and killed. She did not want to risk that. “Sasa...” she whispered, creeping closer to her daughter. “Sasa, get back here...”
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Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2015 1:56 pm
Ysalda heard her mother approach, but it was more background knowledge, than anything. Other than the faint thread of wariness that instinct provided her when it came to large, unfamiliar new things, she felt no need to be afraid. The single spike-tailed two-legger that she did have experience with, at least, was welcome among her clan, and if these were anything like that one, there seemed no reason to concern herself or keep a hold on her curiosity. That, combined with the fact that she didn’t want to be caught and dragged back by Mother, spurned her to wriggle forward as her mother’s voice drew nearer, pulling away from that security and toward the sound of crunching—footsteps?
Two leggers certainly were loud in their walking.
That couldn’t be a good survival trait for them, she thought, nostrils flaring as she sniffed again and peeked forward to see if—there! She trilled with curiosity, tail swishing and wide yellow eyes staring to drink in the scene. So many. Who knew there could be so many two leggers. It was like a small, dark river of them. Much like the insects that trailed each other along the ground, too, they made a cohesive line. They didn’t seem to notice her at first, though, so — miffed at being ignored — she wriggled her bum.
And barked.
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Posted: Mon Jan 04, 2016 8:57 pm
And of course Ysalda would not get back there. Malta could only hope to retrieve her before she... Called attention to herself. If the chunky Ysali hadn't been panicking, she would have stuck her head into a pile of leaves and huffed in agitation... but there was no time for that now – an unknown band of armed Oblivionites was right there, and her baby was right there and she had to do something... But what? But what? --- It had been a long march. Their commander was really taking this 'weapons of war' thing literally, and the soldier was all for it, but he was made of flesh and blood, and the flesh of his feet hurt. All it had been was harsh mountain paths and forest and the sweating backs of his fellow soldiers for miles, and honestly, the soldier was ready for a break... A sudden sharp sound saw his hand on his weapon as he, and a few others looked to the side. “Oh.” he said, laughing a little. “Hey, it's a little khehora.” The other soldiers grinned – carnivore it may be, but it was a baby thing and cuteness was severely lacking in their lives at this point. “Awww. It's barking at us...” one of the other soldiers made a face at Ysalda, fake-growling. “It thinks it's fierce!” “Could probably take off your finger.” another one muttered. Laughter. “Here, have something better.” A morsel of food, carefully saved, was held out in offering. --- Malta put on a burst of speed – she would have to be seen, she knew it, and she hated it. Her eyes glowed in the shade of the forest as she reached out to grab her orakoi and pull her back. And then she saw the food. No... oh no...“Ysalda, no...” she said, moving out of the shadows completely to try to engulf Ysalda, blocking any potential harm from her baby with her body... and holding the orakoi back from the tantalizing morsel in front of them...
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