Post by Ember on Oct 23, 2017 1:46:42 GMT -5
SHAW GRAVES
The night was a bit chilly and breezy for to be summer. Shaw didn’t really mind none, though. His coat was thick, the pads of his paws thick, too, and, well. He knew he could count on them blessings to get him to where it was he was wanting to be tonight without no discomfort.
Between his jaws, he was holding one of them little, sand-colored mouse-things. He’d seen ’em running about on the plains before, and he’d caught his fair share of ’em long time ago, when he was something much younger. Even so, he still wasn’t totally sure what he should be calling ’em. They wasn’t really… true mice, but. He just didn’t know what else he should’ve been comparing ’em to.
Easy as it was to gulp the critter down, he didn’t want to eat all ’lone. There wasn’t really no one else on the plains as of late, but he did know where one wolf was. Someone who’d been close to him, important to him.
His Pa.
When Tannor had passed away all them moons ago, Shaw, he had buried him a little ways inland from the river that bordered the plains’ north side. What had been looking like a real obvious mound of dirt for some time after the ritual had softened since, joining the rest of the gentle slopes ’round the area, ’til it wasn't hardly noticeable anymore.
Shaw, he still knew where the grave was, though.
He passed a few trees on his way over, his pawsteps slowing until they wasn’t no more, leaving him to sit before his adoptive father. He lowered that mouse-thing to his front toes with care, before liftin’ his head to look over the grassland and the river that was flowing a little ways away.
“Evening, Pa,” he murmured.
His voice, which was almost like thunder on some days, wasn't nowhere near so loud tonight. Not that he was embarrassed, or caring not to disturb no one—if there’d even been someone to disturb here in the first place. It was just a moment he was thinking maybe was supposed to stay quiet.
“Grass is coming back good, looks like,” he said, dragging one of his paws ’cross the ground. “Fire tried to take everythin’ after you was gone. But it couldn’t, could it?”
He grinned a bit to hisself. The Gold Plains Pack, they’d always been survivors. Even him and his brother, Buck, when they’d been abandoned as pups. Couldn’t no weather or winter or wildfire kill ’em off, no sir.
Shaw was wondering where that rascal of a brother had gotten to, but that was maybe something he could be worrying over later.
“I know how much this land was meaning to you,” he spoke after a tic, recalling the way his father was always praising the old alphas for their care. How hospitable they was, Tannor would always say. “So, I’ma try to do right by you. We gotta get ’em back here. Everyone. It’s been too quiet.”
And by everyone, he wasn’t necessarily meaning the old pack. Just… anyone. Someone.
Sighing inward, Shaw looked at the mouse-thing. He was liking to think maybe if it wasn’t dead, if it could talk, it’d tell him he was off his rocker. Tryin’ to get his old pack up and running on his own. Tell him it didn’t want no more sets of teeth ’round here, picking its kind off one by one.
If Shaw’s smile had disappeared when he was talking to Tannor, it returned then. He wasn’t ’bout to let no mouse-thing tell him what he couldn’t do.
He pointed his muzzle at the sky, parting his jaws to release a howl. His massive chest was shrinking as his breath left him, a long, strong note that wasn’t tapering off before he was sure it was loud ’nough to be heard by anyone nearby.
Far as claims go, it wasn’t one of them more flashy ones. It wasn't nothing like that night when Chaos was falling to the earth. It wasn’t even a teeny bit that glorious, Shaw was thinking. But he was just fine with it that way.
An invitation—that was all it was meant to be. Just a call, plain an’ simple, letting anyone who cared to listen know the plains was alive again.
Between his jaws, he was holding one of them little, sand-colored mouse-things. He’d seen ’em running about on the plains before, and he’d caught his fair share of ’em long time ago, when he was something much younger. Even so, he still wasn’t totally sure what he should be calling ’em. They wasn’t really… true mice, but. He just didn’t know what else he should’ve been comparing ’em to.
Easy as it was to gulp the critter down, he didn’t want to eat all ’lone. There wasn’t really no one else on the plains as of late, but he did know where one wolf was. Someone who’d been close to him, important to him.
His Pa.
When Tannor had passed away all them moons ago, Shaw, he had buried him a little ways inland from the river that bordered the plains’ north side. What had been looking like a real obvious mound of dirt for some time after the ritual had softened since, joining the rest of the gentle slopes ’round the area, ’til it wasn't hardly noticeable anymore.
Shaw, he still knew where the grave was, though.
He passed a few trees on his way over, his pawsteps slowing until they wasn’t no more, leaving him to sit before his adoptive father. He lowered that mouse-thing to his front toes with care, before liftin’ his head to look over the grassland and the river that was flowing a little ways away.
“Evening, Pa,” he murmured.
His voice, which was almost like thunder on some days, wasn't nowhere near so loud tonight. Not that he was embarrassed, or caring not to disturb no one—if there’d even been someone to disturb here in the first place. It was just a moment he was thinking maybe was supposed to stay quiet.
“Grass is coming back good, looks like,” he said, dragging one of his paws ’cross the ground. “Fire tried to take everythin’ after you was gone. But it couldn’t, could it?”
He grinned a bit to hisself. The Gold Plains Pack, they’d always been survivors. Even him and his brother, Buck, when they’d been abandoned as pups. Couldn’t no weather or winter or wildfire kill ’em off, no sir.
Shaw was wondering where that rascal of a brother had gotten to, but that was maybe something he could be worrying over later.
“I know how much this land was meaning to you,” he spoke after a tic, recalling the way his father was always praising the old alphas for their care. How hospitable they was, Tannor would always say. “So, I’ma try to do right by you. We gotta get ’em back here. Everyone. It’s been too quiet.”
And by everyone, he wasn’t necessarily meaning the old pack. Just… anyone. Someone.
Sighing inward, Shaw looked at the mouse-thing. He was liking to think maybe if it wasn’t dead, if it could talk, it’d tell him he was off his rocker. Tryin’ to get his old pack up and running on his own. Tell him it didn’t want no more sets of teeth ’round here, picking its kind off one by one.
If Shaw’s smile had disappeared when he was talking to Tannor, it returned then. He wasn’t ’bout to let no mouse-thing tell him what he couldn’t do.
He pointed his muzzle at the sky, parting his jaws to release a howl. His massive chest was shrinking as his breath left him, a long, strong note that wasn’t tapering off before he was sure it was loud ’nough to be heard by anyone nearby.
Far as claims go, it wasn’t one of them more flashy ones. It wasn't nothing like that night when Chaos was falling to the earth. It wasn’t even a teeny bit that glorious, Shaw was thinking. But he was just fine with it that way.
An invitation—that was all it was meant to be. Just a call, plain an’ simple, letting anyone who cared to listen know the plains was alive again.
Kenren
I'm sorry, I don't know where this novel came from. xD
Let me know if you need me to change anything!
I'm sorry, I don't know where this novel came from. xD
Let me know if you need me to change anything!
WOLF STOCK BY KATI OF DAWNTHIEVES • TABLE CODED BY EMBER
