Closed A camp site less courteous.

[Funestae Mortis]

88th Spring - Outskirts of Ravok. All the while Funestae sat and questioned Talon's morals for leaving, the air carried no sound. There was an eerieness this day, and the Myrian's skin grew cold. As the sun set, Fune could only wonder upon the adventures his former partner would encounter. "At least I have you, Tristana, to keep me company." His eyes welled in emotion, and a tear representing the beginning of an unexpected melancholy brought Funestae's head to his knees in shame. A wind came about suddenly, urging strength to his veins. His head rose, and he swatted aside the tear from his cheek. "Good for him!" He announced, "Great for him!" He turned to rest in his tent. Perched before him, his bird, Hope stared up with large, sparkling green eyes. "How's my little fellow doing?" Kneeling down to open the latch, he felt a warmth in his connection with the owl. "Come on out", he insisted, in a soothing, tranquil voice as he let the raptor climb onto his hand. Holding Hope on his shoulder, he took a deep breath. The wind became cold, and Funestae shivered. "I s'pose we should go to bed? The air is chilling, and nocturnal predators roam this hour". He aimed his low, echoing voice to the Kelvic across the camp site. Funestae climbed into his section of the tent and held the bird's wing gently. "You'd never leave me, would you? I'll never abandon you Hope, not until your wing's healed, and not after - I need you anyway." He tucked his body beneath the covers, and threw his simple clothes to the side. The owl climbed under to form a large mound at the base of the bed. "Silly bird, sleep well". ---------------------------------------------------- Darkness enshrouded his vision, and his dream came swiftly. Through the forest he peered, uncovering the many threats the bustling undertow bestowed. A Rhysol's Viper slithered past his foot, and from above screeched the petrifying cries of a hunting Osprey. Funestae's fear was focused on something immediately behind him however. It bounded towards him and forced him into a clearing. Funestae's memories were traced directly back to the camp site. Instead of the colourful canvas and long, beautiful grassland, all that remained was the camp fire, blazing out in all directions. The earth beneath them was charred, engulfed in flames. The helpless, echoing screams of his one remaining companion filled his head with despair, and he writhed in agony. "I'll get you!" He cried, to an unknown enemy. The scene changed, and the transition brought about complete darkness. Funestae turned his head side to side, revealling nothing but blackness until something approached from the shade. A pair of sharp, green eyes, gleaming infront of him, tore into his iris like a freshly sharpened kris to it's opponent's flesh. Blinded by the fear, Funestae desperately tried to awake, doing all in his power to return to his bed roll. Finally he rose to a sitting position on the fabric, his bird had disappeared but a cold sweat relieved the Myrian of some of his hot panic. He assumed Hope had gone for a midnight hunt, being still somewhat untamed. He fell back to his cover, and entered a deep, undisturbed sleep.

[Tristana]

Tristana sat with Funestae, deep in her thoughts, a small emptiness opening up inside of her. Talon's departure had been a sudden and unexpected one, and had left her and Funestae alike rather disoriented. She watched as Funestae became emotional, bowing her head and turning away in respect and to save his pride, sharing in his anguish at the departure of what they had considered a friend. She looked up at him and smiled when he made the comment on still having her, reaching out a hand to rest on his forearm in support. As he suddenly wiped away a tear and got up, suppressing his emotion, she pulled away her arm, and turned towards her unpacked tattooing toolkit laid out in front of her on the soft, dewy grass. Tristana sat on the grass and began to practice. She was getting better, her hand growing accustomed to the feeling of the inks and skin, her skills vastly improving. She continued late through the evening until the sun began to set below the tree line, when she stopped, packed away her things and walked into her side of the tent, putting down her toolkit next to her backpack. She would ask Funestae about going into Ravok market the next morning, for she felt her skills were now sufficient, but she would show Funestae her work for confirmation. She washed her face with water from her waterskin before undressing and laying down to rest, the soft breeze making the fabric of the tent ripple as she drifted off to sleep.

[Foden]

Massive paws moved quite silently along the woodland floor with Foden propped above them. His padded feet were delicate enough to only just disturb even the thinnest of branches and he didn't have to worry about dry leaves because it was already nearly summer and most of them were either dampened by the new air or gone altogether, absorbed by the soil beneath them to nurture the trees they fell from. The Lean wolf's body became slowly harder and harder to see as the night went on and Foden came to a slower pace as his nose struck the scent of two humanoids. His body slowed down and his mind began to pick apart his movements before they happened, his eyes glanced to the floor to check for any uneven parts or particularly brittle sticks that could betray his location. His pointed, dark grey ears perked up above his head and he came to a stop as the smell strengthened - listening to any noises nearby. Foden's legs bowed then, they lowered his body down where it almost brushed against the floor - he could tell this from his shaggy furr and the way it tickled him as it was disturbed by the ground or any other obstacles protruding from the ground. In this new stance, he stalked forward towards the smell. Spotting a thicker brush, he padded over to it and then moved just around the brush to the edge - seeing only one girl sat in-front of a large tent. By this time is was becoming dark and Foden was quite hard to spot save his shining green eyes. He watched the girl move into the tent and stood up more naturally, padding forwards a little from his hiding spot.

[Funestae Mortis]

As the moon took advantage of its chance to shine, Funestae took advantage of its shine. He awoke around midnight, still somewhat disturbed by the visions of his previous state. Sliding into his trousers, he made it his priority to remain stealthy. He then propped on his shirt and exit through the canvas door to the main body of the tent. He glanced over to Tristana's part of the tent - and noticing it closed, took comfort in that she hadn't left with his bird. Expecting Hope's return, the Myrian stood proudly at the door to his tent, though still cautious of his surroundings. Fune kept his mind open to ambushes, though at this point his mind was more focused on the escaped bird. "Hope, Hope are you there?" He whispered this however, trusting in the Bird's enhanced hearing and his will to not wake Tristana. The moonlight beamed upon him, reflecting the grass's dew as to portray the stars in the earth. After acknowledging the beauty of the grass for some time he became wary, and paired with the notion of Hope having still not returned, quite depressed. Holding his head lower, he returned to the tent, but could not resume his sleep. Instead, he sat comfortably in the center of the tent and hummed a tune from his homeland. Entranced by the rhythm of the song, he forgot entirely about Tristana's sleep. The humming was interupted suddenly by a slap to the face, though not by Tristana. The interuption was a pleasant suprise, and was infact that of Hope returning with a small rodent for its lunch. The mouse caused his stomach to churn, though he resisted the hunger and cuddled the bird intently. His thoughts were fixated on the bird's loyalty, he knew all along that the owl would return, and Funestae could take comfort in that. The thoughts gave him a warmth in the cold of night, and he remained there - comforting the bird as it comforted him. Suddenly, Funestae realised the bird's accomplishment - and his eyes burst into flames of passion. "You're fixed!" He yelled in excitement! Against all odds, Hope's wing was fixed, and Funestae hadn't realised it earlier. He threw the bird up in gratitude, and filled the tent with joy. "Impressive my friend, impressive!" Looking down, he noticed the bandage, barely attached to the birds arm - he threw it down to the floor. "Well, we'll be hunting again soon, won't we Hope?" He turned, glancing out of the canvas door at the cold night sky, and looked forward at the times he was destined to share with his raptor. The skies stretched as time grew longer, and the air remained still. The pair shuffled towards Funestae's part of the tent.

[Tristana]

Tristana was absorbed in her deep sleep, countless dreams floating through her mind, vivid colours and memories and hopes and dreams painting themselves in her mind's eye. Within sleep, thoughts became reality, and she was filled with inspiration and wonder at the power of her own mind, a mere organ and yet so beyond her understanding. One of her dreams was in Avanthal, and she remembered with great pride how she had been destined for the Ice Watch. She could feel her heart aching with homesickness even in her sleep. She could see the sloping landscape and the clear sky, endless white. Her bliss was rudely interrupted by the sound of Funestae moving around, shortly followed by his humming a soft, majestic tune, alien to Tristana. Her brow furrowed in mild annoyance at first, but then the soft half-music washed over her, and she simply laid, relaxed, listening to the rhythm and feeling in which Funestae sung the song from his homeland. She had come into contact with two new cultures in meeting Funestae and Talon, and even though she still barely knew them and had not travelled far from the camp since arriving, she had grown from her former self. A soft breeze drifted past, blowing through the canvas of the tent slightly, goosebumps forming all over her bare body. But it was not unwelcome - she was accustomed to the cold, and it made her smile softly in remembering her home and her dream. She heard a soft flutter and Funestae's exclamation in joy at the return of Hope and at her good health, which made Tristana smile again. She could not return to her sleep, so she pulled out a sheet of paper and her paints, already mixed, pouring a little water from her waterskin into one of the bowls from her toolkit, before beginning to paint the likeness of her homeland. Her brush stokes soft and careful, she painted a soft pink and orange sunrise, the colours melting and mixing into one another, like red rain into a colour-filled pool of water, mixing and twirling like fire and feathers. She then used the same colours watered down for the shadows and contours of the land, painting the sloping land and soft, glistening snow. At the bottom she wrote with black ink and her brush; 'My homeland, my birthplace. Always a part of my soul will lie here.' She then laid the paper outside of the entrance to Funestae's side of the , before adding a note written with one of her sticks of charcoal that read: 'I've heard the beauty of your homeland. Now you can see the beauty of mine' She then closed her side of the tent, laying on her back, drifting back of to sleep, the breeze flowing softly over her.

[Foden]

Foden was stood peacefully watching the night sky above him, stars glistened in their tiny, mysterious forms that took up so little of the sky but gave it so much depth and beauty. This was one thing that had made him so different from the other wolves, his ability to notice such things and the fact that he even found things beautiful - finding himself thinking of his old pack Foden's heart sunk in his chest. Behind the windows of the glassy green eyes Foden boasted flashed images of his pack members, black wolves running around playfully at times and at other times with such ferocity that though it was terrifying it was admirable as to how they even achieved such savagery and each thought filled him with some sort of happiness. Though he dis-agreed with some of their customs Foden always loved the togetherness that the pack had, besides the occasional arguments between larger wolves. Upon thinking of a scene where he was playfully fighting with one of his fellow wolves, Foden's body straightened like lightning at the sudden burst of noise from the tent. Foden's heart-beat jumped and began soaring upwards as adrenaline moved through his entire system. His head turned along with his body to scan the entire campsite and then the surrounding woodland and even a few moments after doing this Foden's body was still tense all over. After a few minutes he began to calm back down again. Having probably made some noise, Foden decided to pad over next to the large tent that the inhabitants slept in and placed himself next to it. He laid himself down and placed the heels of his fore-paws to the ground, his hind legs curled under him. Beginning to doze off Foden leaned in towards a warmth on the other side of the tent (this being Tristana) as he often did sleeping in the pack. Though Foden drifted off he was in a particularly light sleep, the same sleep he'd become accustomed to in the past few months of being utterly alone.

[Funestae Mortis]

Upon hearing the disturbance, Funestae's senses pricked up. At first, he assumed a small critter had strolled carelessly by the camp site, to investigate the glow of the fire, but his instincts kicked in and he considered the high probability of it being a predator. This wasn't the overwhelming thought in Funestae's mind, however. The thought offered to Funestae to investigate was the notion, and possibility of Talon's return. The Myrian didn't want to investigate immediately. Before leaving the tent, he took the time to admire Tristana's painting. The painting hadn't dried, but he ran his fingers along the artwork, smearing the blue paint over the skyline. Emotion overwhelmed him, and through his mirrors of eyes, escaped him. A tear fell the distance an angel would fall from the kingdom of God, still yet falling, as if time itself guided the feelings from his eye to the paper. At impact, time was restored, and the painting came to life in Funestae's head. For the first time since her arrival, Funestae could empathise for the Kelvic. His mind was now whirling with her memories, and he understood her circumstance. He pressed his hand more firmly upon the painting, pressing its formation into the art. Although the painting itself is now ruined, the image in his head will remain. Hope tilted his head and stared up at Funestae, his eyes deep with understanding, and the bond between animal and master was strengthened. He never left the tent, instead lied down in the center of the tent and closed his eyes. Looking up at the roof of the cover, he saw the stars shining in his eye lids, not the stars of Ravok, or the stars of Taloba, but instead, those of an Avanthal sky. Funestae floated into a dream almost instantly, drifting off into the cold, whimsical, starry wonderland. His bird understood the feelings brought onto him by the painting, and crawled through the gap between the fastenings of Tristana's door to sleep with her. The owl squeezed against her shoulder, probably aware of the wolf on the other side. Leaning its flexible, adjustable head onto hers, it fell asleep, comforting and comforted.

[Tristana]

Tristana stirred slightly as she felt the soft caress of feathers across her stomach as Hope flew in, his warmth and company welcome against her bare neck and chest. Her eyelids fluttered and she stroked the birds neck and wings gently with one hand, curling up around her. If Funestae were to come looking for his companion now, he would enter her side of the tent to her naked body in full view, but Tristana rested in the knowledge he would be gentlemanly and leave her to her peace. Tristana found she could no longer sleep in the bird's presence, so she sat up with the intention of drawing the bird, who lay calmly in her lap. Hope's brilliant eyes shone with kindness and understanding and it felt to Tristana as though she was travelling not with one companion and his pet, but two dear friends. This brought back memories of Talon and his leaving, so Tristana quickly shunned thoughts of love and company to the back of her mind. Her race were, she knew, not one for goodbyes. Her mind was clear and still as she drew, whiling away her time. She sketched almost three sheets of drawings of Hope - capturing his eyes and beak, the soft texture of his feathers, his slender legs and feet - who kept moving into different positions and holding them, as though he knew Tristana wished him to be her model. In actuality, the creature had a simple dignity and elegance, which Tristana greatly admired. After around an hour, she lay down her tools. Rubbing her eyes and then rubbing at the charcoal smudges on her fingertips, it was only then that she noticed; she could smell a stranger nearby. Quickly she pulled on her shirt and trousers and moved silently out of her side of the tent. She knelt down beside Funestae who for some reason was sleeping out of his bed. Laying a hand softly on his shoulder to wake him carefully, locking her eyes with his as he woke and pointing to her nose making a soft sniffing so he would understand. She then stood, carefully walked over to the opening of the tent and stepped out. Her soft, pale feet stepped into the dewey grass and soft topsoil outside of the tent, the early morning light painting soft golden and blue streaks across the sky, casting clear light down onto the still forest. She turned her head and took a few steps, careful to make sure she did not alert who - or what - it was that was curled up around her side of the tent. She'd listened in fear of the stories Talon and Funestae had told her of giant, ravenous Ravok wolves in these areas, as well as of terrible creatures from stories and experiences all over Mizahar that they had been told, and her heart beat faster. As she rounded the corner, she saw a tail and damp black fur. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she moved surreally quickly, instinct taking over. Her eyes intensified, her hands and shoulders tensed, her knees bent and she unfolded, her giant polar bear form seeming to ripple from the center of her chest, and she readied herself to defend.