Lead Tongue
51st of Winter, 512 A.V.
51st of Winter, 512 A.V.
It was a warm day as a speckled bit of sunlight shone down through the canopy upon a hunched figure below. The individual sat upon a rotted stump outside a pathetic excuse for a hut, a ramshackle thing placed haphazardly together with massive ferns, bleached driftwood and other oddities of the jungle. It was more like a step up from a lean-to, something to sleep in with a few shelves. But for the witch, it was what she called home. Somewhere in one of the lower trees Nissila was coiled, taking in the warm rays, and the Inganu Deepwoods dog lay prone upon the ground, ears twitching in the remnants of a dream.
Meanwhile, their abomination of a guardian was hard at work. She had the wolf pelt and Curassow to bring to market. She had plucked the bird and preserved his fine come, a burlap sack carrying jet black feathers and dried feet and beak. But when she had handled the deep grey fur of the wolf pelt, something had sparked her then and there.
Her fingers stroked the supple fur in her lap, and then she had set about rummaging through her wooden box of supplies, covered with the rubber leaves to keep it safe in the rain. She had taken out a bone needle, thin leather strands, and one of the thin knives she possessed perfect for skinning and cutting, then returned to her spot. Here she set about cutting and stitching the pelt. She was no seamstress, and in fact saw the task as something useless, best left to boys and men, but she had to admit the skill had its uses...she simply couldn't profit from them, barely knowing anything about it.
That being said, she knew how to tie a knot in her leather scraps to keep her stitching together, knew how to hide her seams...well enough. And so the pelt began to take shape from a thing that would have been sold whole in the market, into something else entirely. She cut and re-attached strips, tightened bits of flesh using the leathers, and cut open slits to loosen other places. It was the work of several bells she didn't have, but the half breed had been seized by the moment, and refused to let it go.
When she was finished, tanned hands slowly lifted the pelt up and over, throwing it over her back. Leathery flesh settled along her shoulder blades, a bit too loose, tail and back legs thumping lightly across her back. The two front paws fells over wither shoulder, and the head formed a hood, blocking out Tinnok's eyes from Syna's rays.
The half breed stood and twirled with her new found garment. Already it was hot, too hot for the day, but she did not sweat so badly as her brethren...thanks to the snake. She walked slowly over to a pond to get a look at herself, grinning at her shoddy handiwork as if it was a master piece of sewing. There was something missing, however... Tinnok glanced around, turning to her small fire pit she jogged over and bent, reaching into the ashes and sliding her fingers down into the mass of coals. once returned she closed her eyes and applied the black substance over and around both eyes, then dragged one line of it down the left side of her face, curving it like a fang. When she next looked into the water she smiled. There stood a black eyed wolf, with a woman beneath it's fur...yes, this guise suited a witch well.
And so it was that the wolf grabbed her bag, and bade the waking dog stay at the camp as she made her way towards Taloba to sell her catch. It would mean less money for the half breed...but something in her stance and gait suggested she hadn't a care about it.
