Post by Castor | Thi'e Grair Ren on Mar 16, 2023 1:57:55 GMT
Damein's instructions rang through his head, the echo of his bark ringing to the point where it was almost painful. He had vacated his mind, leaving his body on autopilot while he processed this immense loss, but doing so left much more room for the sound to ping around than he anticipated. The darkening of his vision was unfortunately not from sleep taking him, but the larger Landseer mix covering his entire view as he made his way forwards, ”Come. We will not rest until we at least recover his body for the gods. The river can’t have taken him far.” Silent, Castor nodded and trailed behind the larger male.
The Ibizan's eyes trailed the water again, watching the bumping of small chunks of remaining ice lazily flowing as if they had no clue what they just did. The time slid by mercilessly. The river continued its flow, enjoying a relaxing afternoon in the winter sun. Castor's coat had frozen, thawed, and dried already in the time it took for them to make this journey. The snow behind the pair seemed to pity them. Each pawprint left behind seemed to fight the ephemeral nature of snow - remaining crisp and clear as if each step were a beacon calling out to the lost pup that likely could never answer.
The sun had already begun to set by the time Castor was ready to turn around. They had walked miles down the river, searching every inch for even a sign that the ren could have lived. No tracks in the snow on the banks, not even a whiff of him in the air. The river truly had taken him. Had the gods so little sympathy that they couldn't return Kahru to them to be properly grieved before taking him? Castor's head swung behind him, a passing glance to see how far the pair had come from where the others had parted from them. He expected to see snow, perhaps the orange light of the darkening sun reflecting into his eyes as a further scornful message from the gods of their disappointment in him. Instead, he saw a tiny, lurching form.
Some marmot following in their tracks? A dead bush he had neglected to notice as they passed? Squinting, as the little thing moved ever closer, Castor's body swivelled to a full stop. It couldn't be. He didn't think to verbally notify his chief that he was about to start sprinting in the other direction. He figured the spray of snow would do just as well. In his eagerness, and maybe even panic, Castor overshot the familiar scrap. Snow sprayed once again as his body turned a sharp 180 back towards the pup. "Ritha'ren, you little fighter," he whispered so only Kahru'hu could hear as his tongue began to bathe the frosty pup. He had only ever given himself baths before, so the crispy texture of long, frozen fur almost made him gag as strands stuck to his tongue, but he was determined to get this fool of a pup warm. He wasn't about to lose him again, so no matter Kahru's protests, he would end up dangling by his scruff from Castor's maw.
Finally, he and this troublesome pup were Ah'mir dogs. Hopefully now they could catch a damn break and rest after this hellish day.
The Ibizan's eyes trailed the water again, watching the bumping of small chunks of remaining ice lazily flowing as if they had no clue what they just did. The time slid by mercilessly. The river continued its flow, enjoying a relaxing afternoon in the winter sun. Castor's coat had frozen, thawed, and dried already in the time it took for them to make this journey. The snow behind the pair seemed to pity them. Each pawprint left behind seemed to fight the ephemeral nature of snow - remaining crisp and clear as if each step were a beacon calling out to the lost pup that likely could never answer.
The sun had already begun to set by the time Castor was ready to turn around. They had walked miles down the river, searching every inch for even a sign that the ren could have lived. No tracks in the snow on the banks, not even a whiff of him in the air. The river truly had taken him. Had the gods so little sympathy that they couldn't return Kahru to them to be properly grieved before taking him? Castor's head swung behind him, a passing glance to see how far the pair had come from where the others had parted from them. He expected to see snow, perhaps the orange light of the darkening sun reflecting into his eyes as a further scornful message from the gods of their disappointment in him. Instead, he saw a tiny, lurching form.
Some marmot following in their tracks? A dead bush he had neglected to notice as they passed? Squinting, as the little thing moved ever closer, Castor's body swivelled to a full stop. It couldn't be. He didn't think to verbally notify his chief that he was about to start sprinting in the other direction. He figured the spray of snow would do just as well. In his eagerness, and maybe even panic, Castor overshot the familiar scrap. Snow sprayed once again as his body turned a sharp 180 back towards the pup. "Ritha'ren, you little fighter," he whispered so only Kahru'hu could hear as his tongue began to bathe the frosty pup. He had only ever given himself baths before, so the crispy texture of long, frozen fur almost made him gag as strands stuck to his tongue, but he was determined to get this fool of a pup warm. He wasn't about to lose him again, so no matter Kahru's protests, he would end up dangling by his scruff from Castor's maw.
Finally, he and this troublesome pup were Ah'mir dogs. Hopefully now they could catch a damn break and rest after this hellish day.