2nd Avenue W, Charlo, Montana.
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2nd Avenue W, Charlo, Montana.
Happy Birthday Charlie Barnes
Canelo throwing a beautiful uppercut against charlo
I bet it was charles/ joris idea
Always Loyal
This art took 4 days to finish??? Idk anymore akshd
But at least I knew how to deal with it because omg, painting like this is so hard and I decided to put lots of strong colors
Whumpmas in July Day 3: Lost
Chari was still sobbing.
Arlo wasn’t doing much better. It thought they were safe, it thought they would all get out okay.
It hadn’t planned for their newborn to be ripped right out of their arms.
It wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her they would be able to get their child back.
But it fell silent when it met her eyes.
She would know it was lying.
And right now, it had more pressing matters to worry about. Like where they were.
It had been years since Arlo had been captured, it didn’t remember where to find its pack. And Chari had never been out of the village, she wouldn’t know where to go. They had to get away fast, Arlo could hear people searching for them a little farther back in the forest.
It didn’t know where they could get away to.
Arlo hissed quietly as a root started waving in the air, adjusting its grip on Chari and climbing into the trees, running through the branches.
Even though she was a third of its size, she was heavy enough and Arlo was hurt enough that it wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. It would need to find a better way to move the two of them quickly. Chari couldn’t run or do anything strenuous until she healed from the birth, but it was already losing its breath, its arms were shaking, and it was struggling to jump and land correctly in the branches.
It went back to the ground when it decided going through the canopy wasn’t the best idea at the moment.
“..How far have they chased us?” Chari asked.
“Too far. I don’t know where we are- I know how to get back but that isn’t an option,” Arlo hissed, glancing back- then yelping as it tripped over a root, hissing in pain as an ache that had gone away a week ago came back to their ankle, throbbing.
“Put me down, I can walk-”
“They had to sew you back up after you.. Well- You aren’t walking, I don’t want you ripping anything I can’t fix.”
“But you’re hurt!”
“It doesn’t matter, if you die I’m never going to forgive myself.” Gritting its teeth, Arlo kept walking.
I grew up here. I should know how to navigate.
But I don’t remember where home is. I need to remember where home is.
It heard a river. Ears swiveled back, most of the warriors had either given up or fallen behind. It followed the river.
..If I remember right, there was this river and a clearing, and then home was nearby. But.. I don’t remember where to go from the clearing.
“..Do you know where you’re going?”
“Sort of. I don’t remember where home is, but I think, at the very least, where I’m going will be close enough that someone will find us. The warrior that’s still following us isn’t coming right at us, they probably won’t find us first.”
Chari nodded, rubbing at her eyes. “..We need to go back.”
Arlo felt its heart clench at the pain in her voice, and at the reality of the situation. “..We can’t. You’ll probably be killed. And I might be, too. The cub is probably going to be under much higher security. We won’t be able to get near. We can try in a month or two, when they’ve calmed down. If we rush it, we’ll die.”
Chari let out a shaky sigh. “..You’re right. ..When will your pack come find us?”
“Sometime in the night, someone will come through here. Territory border patrol. They can bring us home.”
“What if they attack us?”
Arlo tensed. “..They.. They won’t. And if they do, you use vines to defend yourself while I work it out.”
“..Okay.” She sighed. “What if they moved?”
“..we’ll figure it out.”
They got to the clearing. Setting her down, Arlo closed its eyes and listened.
The warriors were all far away now. Probably going back home, actually. It couldn’t hear anything else threatening.
“..I was going to name them Rikka,” Chari whispered.
And that’s when the weight of the loss crashed down on Arlo. It only got a glimpse of the tiny cub in Chari’s arms, too small to be a forest beast but too big to be a kit. Their little hybrid, their one-of-a-kind baby, who was stuck in the thorn king’s hands, far away.
Arlo had thought maybe it would end up stuck, left behind, and Chari and the cub could’ve escaped. Or maybe the escape attempt would fail and Arlo would be killed, and Chari would still be with the child, able to try again when she was stronger.
It never thought they would be together, but separated from their cub.
It never thought Chari would lose the child she worked so hard to have.
Little Rikka, gone for what could be forever.
Arlo fell back against the nearest tree, a weight on its shoulders and a lump in its throat.
It hadn’t cried for a long time- last time it remembered was in the first weeks of its capture, when it had realized it would probably never be able to escape, would never be able to run through the forest with its pack again. It had promised itself after that day that it would take everything quietly, and not cry, because crying would bring its torturers satisfaction they didn’t deserve.
That promise was forgotten. Tears tracked dark lines through its fur, falling to the moss-covered floor. It wished, more than anything, that it could’ve prevented this, could’ve gotten Chari and the cub out safe.
Chari sniffed, rubbing at her eyes again- she was trying not to cry.
Pulling Chari into a hug, it let out a quiet wail for the child they might never get to see, never get to watch grow and learn, never get to love.
Before the cub, it had been ready to sacrifice everything to get out and come home.
Now, it wished more than anything that it could go back, if only to see little Rikka one last time, to send them home with Chari. It wished more than anything to switch places with their cub.
Because it knew Rikka would be missed so much more than it would be. It knew its pack was probably long past grieving it, and it knew Chari would have been okay without it, would have been okay raising their cub. And it knew it would have been okay knowing she and Rikka were safe and free.
Everything the two of them had worked for, cried for, bled for, was lost in a moment.
And Arlo was lost in the despair.
Another form of my Fursona Charlo
A concept i want to keep going with my Fursona is somehow Perception. The other small versions (the blue -Snoob- and green -Messy- one) are supposed to be the two ways people perceive (yours (Snoob) and mine (Messy) but Charlo is Ego which is another part.
The boys are back in town