#winter one

[gutterclan]

dumb & dumber

[my girls dace & rime, adols in the sanctuary pack & protags of my latest lore project!] [all assets wolvden’s]

[mazojo]

I am still super mad about the fact all the troupes get a group picture and Autumn has none

[gutterclan]

The Sanctuary Pack got into some trouble this winter! Here’s what went down. 

Spring timeline 🌙 Summer timeline 🌙 Fall timeline

[gutterclan]

Sanctuary Pack Stories: The Hunt [Part One]

A leap ahead for The Sanctuary Pack, as we jump from the spring of the last pack story to deep into the pack’s first winter! 

With the pack’s lead hunter out with injuries, hunts haven’t been bringing in any food. Out of desperation, new packmate Hoot brings the adolescents out into a blizzard, hoping to bring something down.

----

A chunk of snow hits Rime in the side of the head. 

Dace is conspicuously focused, when Rime turns around, her head ducked low to the ground, hunting for scent-trails. Rime squints-- yes, there. Dace’s mouth is twitching with the effort not to laugh.

Well. 

Rime shakes off the snow and trots on ahead-- or. Trots is a strong word. Wades ahead, the snow chest-deep and clinging-- but at least cold enough to be powdery.

She sneaks a glance ahead; Hoot and Grackle didn’t notice a thing, naturally. Only a leap away, they’re still a little obscured by snow-- the blizzard had blown in thick, that morning, and didn’t seem to plan on thinning out. Well-- it would probably OK, then.

Mid-stride, Rime whips around; Dace freezes, her eyes comically wide-- she’s braced up on her hind legs, ready to go shaking another tree. The branches, heavy with snow, would have dumped a whole drifts’ worth right onto Rime’s head.

Dace gives Rime a sheepish look, dropping to all-fours. She wriggles up, tail wagging, her mouth falling open in a grin. Her breath gusts out visibly, the freezing air turning it instantly to smoke.

The wind howls incessantly; ahead of them, hunched against the chill, Hoot and Grackle won’t hear a thing. Rime checks-- double checks. Then:

“Dace,” she says, under her breath, and Dace pauses, one paw lifted in an exaggerated stalking pose.

“What? I’m practicing my hunting!”

“By dumping snow on me?” 

“It’s... a special move! Um, that I’m developing.” Dace holds still, a moment longer, to see if that’s gonna fly, and then Rime can’t resist, anymore. Her tail keeps wanting to wag, looking at Dace stuck in that stupid pose. 

“Special move this,” she growls, and leaps at Dace. She misses, but kicks up a ton of snow when she lands, and buries Dace up to the ears.

Dace laughs, springing up through the drift like a rabbit, spraying snow in every direction. She growls, playfully, and leaps back at Rime, her breath leaving a comet-trail of fog in the air behind her.

Rime dodges, skittering for purchase on a patch of ice--

“Rime.”

Oops. She had skidded right up to Hoot. The big adult is scowling down at her, snow heaped on her head. 

She looks irritated; thin with hunger and tired already, and now this. How embarrassing. Bad enough to do that sort of thing to Hat Trick; but to Hoot- big, cool, former-loner Hoot, with all the good stories, and--

Hoot is still looking at her, expectant.

“Sorry, Hoot.” Rime ducks her head. And, of course, Dace got away with it…

Hoot shakes her head, dislodging the snow. “If I can hear you, so can the rabbits.”

She looks across at Dace-- who pretends not to notice, pulling the same ‘no I’m just sniffing the ground’ routine she had on Rime, earlier. 

“Sorry.” Rime creeps up to her, tail low and wagging. “But--”

“Enough.” Hoot turns. Tosses a look over her shoulder-- is that amusement in her eyes? “At least try harder not to get caught, alright?”

Rime has to stop herself from leaping up-- she had seen Dace! And she wasn’t mad! And then Grackle- of course- has to open her big mouth. 

“You should be conserving your energy, anyway,” she says, in that snooty voice of hers.

Hoot winces. 

“This isn’t about you,” Dace says, wading up to Rime’s shoulder. “So you should be-- shutting your mouth, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Hoot says, a little reluctantly-- it’s definitely reluctant, Rime thinks. Who could be excited to agree with Grackle?

“Hmph,” Grackle says, and trots on ahead, like she’s the one leading the hunt, when she’s younger than Rime is-- she’s younger than Eight!

“She is right,” Hoot says, too low for Grackle to overhear. “I know you’re--” she snorts. “Eh, Scat, girls, I’m not gonna tell you not to have fun. But we’ll be out here for a while. And I know you aren’t running on much.”

She flicks an ear. Hesitates-- but apparently that’s it, because she trots up to join Grackle again.

“Sourpuss,” Dace mutters.

“She is not!” Rime turns to nip at Dace’s ear. “She’s--!”

“Oh, we all know what you think of her,” Dace whispers, widening her eyes. 

Rime growls at her, and Dace ducks down, ready to pounce off playing again.

Hoot shoots them a look over her shoulder.

Grumbling, Dace straightens again, and plods on through the snow, head ducked against the wind. Rime trudges after her.

The thing is, they aren’t running on much. And without Dace to distract her, it’s hard not to think about. Rime finds herself working her tongue between her molars. Maybe a scrap of that little ptarmigan is still in there, somewhere?

The hunger is a constant ache in her belly, like the cold of the winter; inescapable, but impossible to ignore. Rime pauses to lick at one of her paws; raw and cracked from the dry, freezing days on hunt. This wouldn’t help, of course; Hoot always said licking at your paw pads would just make them icy, and that would make them worse, and she would know! But--

Rime drops her paw. But her feet ache. her legs ache. Her belly aches. Wading through the snow is like wading through mud, the way it saps her energy, and--

She looks around, ears pricked. The wind has picked up, swirling the snow and blocking any other sounds with its endless, incessant howling. The blizzard, thick already, is nearing whiteout.

And there’s no sign of her packmates anywhere. 

“Dace?” Rime waits. The wind howls.

“Dace?” Rime raises her voice, running ahead, panic starting to crawl up through her chest. “Hoot? Grackle?”

But her only answer is the endless, eerie groaning of the wind.

[gutterclan]

Sanctuary Pack Stories: The Hunt [Part Three]

Back at it again w my dog lore. Previously, Rime was separated from her hunting party & ran into a whitetail buck. Her friend Dace wanted to go looking for Rime, but was forced to return to camp by a blizzard.

Part One Part Two

-----

Seven looks up when the hunting party returns, but doesn't stand. Too tired, Dace figures. Her and Rover have been scouting non-stop, looking for scent-trails and carrion.

Judging by everyone’s hopeful expressions, though, they didn't find anything. Their last shot at a meal is down to the hunters. Again.

Well. Sorry to disappoint.

Dace straggles in behind the other two hunters, her tail drooping. She can feel Seven’s eyes on her.

“Leader Seven.” Hoot ducks low, and Grackle takes a subtle step backwards-- out of the limelight.

“Hoot, there’s no need for that! You--” Seven looks them over. Frowns. “Is Rime coming behind you? Is she bringing-- I mean, did you catch something?”

Hoot ducks even lower, practically crouching. It’s not submission, Dace doesn’t think. Just-- what? Guilt? 

Dace snorts. If she really felt that bad, she could’ve let us stay and search.

Rover makes her way out of the den, walking a little stiff. “Everything alright?” She catches sight of Hoot; straightens up. “Well, and what have you--”

“Rime’s missing,” Hoot says, low, but her voice is clear. It carries. 

Dace flinches. 

“What?” Seven struggles to her feet.

“What?” Rover’s voice carries, too. 

“She fell behind. We lost track of her.”

“You lost track? Are you a hunter or not?” Rover’s bristling up like a porcupine; Dace wonders if she’ll actually jump at Hoot, in a second or two. “Well-- for shot’s sake, look for her!”

Dace can’t hold it back any longer. “That’s what I said!” Everyone turns to stare at her-- Dace forces herself to stand up straight. “That’s what I said, and she made us come back.”

Rover growls; The Pack murmurs. 

Seven’s voice cuts through the noise: “Hoot is new to Sanctuary. But she’s been nothing but a good, helpful packmate so far. I don’t believe she would have left--” and then her voice falters, and dies away.

Outside their sheltered camp, the wind howls. 

“Our daughter?” Rover says, a low growl in her voice. “Not yet grown? Out in the winter’s worst storm? Alone?”

She takes a step towards Hoot, lips curling back from her teeth. She really is going to attack Hoot. Right here in front of everyone.

Hoot ducks away from her, eyes flashing white.

“Well?” Rover stalks closer. “We-- should leave right now. You come with me, since you got her lost--”

Hoot looks up, startled, and then remembers, and ducks her head again. 

“Rover,” she says, voice low, “the storm--”

“I don’t care two scats about the storm! My kid is out there-- Seven?”

Rover turns a desperate look on her mate. Seven doesn’t say anything, for a moment. 

Oh, if she would only agree-- “I’d go!” Dace calls. “I’ll go with you! I’ll search!”

“You won’t,” someone says; Saturn, the healer (and, ok, Dace’s mother), emerging from her den. “Hunters come see me when they get back. You all know that. I don’t have many rules--”

She’s not looking at Dace-- she’s talking to the whole group, like Dace hadn’t said a thing at all. 

“Saturn!” Rover turns on her. “Make an exception! Someone’s missing! My daughter is missing!”

Dace snorts. Like that argument would work on Saturn. She’d probably be thrilled if Dace and her brother went missing, let alone someone else’s kid.

Saturn ducks her head. “I am sorry, Rover. But I’m having enough trouble keeping up as it is. With frostbite, cracked paw pads-- if I let them go today, we won’t have hunters to send out tomorrow.”

“But--”

Hoot clears her throat. “Rover. You can’t see a thing out there-- snow’s too thick. It’s why we came back.” 

“I’m-- sure Rime wouldn’t want--” Saturn offers.

“Don’t tell me what my daughter would want!” Rover hesitates, bristling-- and then turns in a burst, running back for her den-- for a few steps, anyway. Then she slows to a trot, a walk, limping a little; cracked paw pads, Dace thinks. Her own paws are sore and raw. But-- 

“Seven?” She peers up at her leader. “Please--”

Seven sighs. Looks up at the clouds, heavy with snow. Even during their short meeting, it’s fallen so thickly on her back that her dark fur has turned almost entirely white.

“Listen to your healer,” she says, eventually, her voice heavy. “Believe me, I want to search for her too. But I can’t-- I can’t risk the rest of the pack, hunting for one wolf.”

And then she turns, before Dace can respond, and finally droops out of the postures of a leader, padding back to the den with her tail dragging in the snow.

-----

In some stupid, soil-forsaken twist of fortune, the buck is easier to track than Rinme’s packmates are.

She plods after him, cold to the bone, shivering so badly her back cramps and complains, muscles all knotted up with it, but she can’t just-- lie down and wait.

Or-- she can. It would be so easy, to stop sniffing out the buck’s sweat, stop looking for the places where he’d gouged bark and broken branches, to just find a sheltered place and rest, but--

She won’t. She won’t listen to that creeping, convincing voice in the back of her head, saying come, listen, lie down-- she won't. The buck had thrown her into a tree, had tried to gore her with his antlers, and to let him just walk away--

she won’t. 

The snow falls. The wind blows. Rime pauses to sniff at another oak, its lower branches bent all askew. The wood is fragrant, bleeding sap where the buck had scored it with his antlers.

It's like he wants her to follow. It’s like-- a dare. 

Well-- she will follow. And then she will kill the buck, and she will eat him. Dung to the winter and the snow and the hunger in her belly; Rime will find him. She will feast.

No stupid storm would get the better of her.

[gutterclan]

Sanctuary Pack Stories: The Hunt [Part Two]

Part two of the story of my pack’s first winter! Last time, hunter Hoot brought adolescents Grackle, Rime, and Dace out into a storm, hoping to find something to feed the hungry pack. In the blizzard, Rime was separated from the others.

Part One Here

-----

“What?” Dace stares at Hoot, uncomprehending. 

Hoot’s head is ducked low-- not just against the wind. She doesn’t say anything. Even Grackle shuts her mouth, for once.

“We can’t just leave her!” Dace is aware, distantly, that her hackles are up all along her back, that her tail’s raised and bristling; no way she’d ever get away with this, with any of the adults, any other second of her life. 

“Listen,” Hoot growls. “You think I want to leave the leader’s pup out here? Trust me, kid--”

But she doesn't finish the sentence. Looks down at her paws in the snow.

Dace shakes her head. “We have to try!”

“We did try,” Grackle says, barely audible above the howling wind. “With the weather, it's unlikely we could--”

Dace glares at her, a growl building in her throat. Grackle shuts up.

“Listen,” Hoot says again, more gently. “Grackle’s right. We had our best shot finding her when she first wandered off. By now...”

“She didn't wander off.”

“When she first… got lost, then.” 

The snow is falling thick and fast. It settles, heavy, onto Dace’s Back.

Hoot shakes her head. “And with the storm getting worse-- I’m sorry. But we don't have a chance.”

Dace always thought those little game-birds were stupid. The ones that see you coming and then go totally still until you're close enough to get a bite-- she gets it, now.

There's this horrible weight in her, growing, that could pin her down here in the woods forever. She can't move. She can't think what to say. 

“But--” 

She wonders how she isn't sinking down straight through the snow, this heaviness--

“Come on.” Hoot nudges her in the shoulder. “The pack can't afford to lose you right now.”

Dace flinches away from her, fur bristling.

Hoot backs off- barely- and presses on: “We need all of our hunters, Dace-- without us, the pack...”

“I know, okay?” Dace looks up at her; right in the eye. Hoot has the grace to look away. “I know! We'd all starve, and die, and-- bears would eat us, or whatever else! I know!! But--”

But the blizzard is the worst she's seen all winter. Is bad enough to force them back, without any prey, with the pack so hungry. Is driving ice under Dace’s thick, winter pelt, is making frost form on her whiskers. 

Is eating the Crooked Wood whole, like some ravenous animal, and Rime is out there--

She shakes herself all over, shedding snow. “I know,” she says, again. “Just-- shut up.”

Hoot opens her mouth-- shuts it. Nods.

She leads the way back to camp in silence. Grackle- after a nervous, sideways look at Dace- follows.

And Dace stands there, shivering, in a snow-drift up to her shoulders. 

And then, hating it, goes after them.

-----

Rime keeps thinking she smells the others. The wind will howl, and then stop, and then pick up, and slow down again, without any pattern. Sometimes, she swears she can smell Dace, or Hoot, carried along with the wind. 

She's starting to feel… well, okay, not scared, alright? She's lived in these woods since she was born, she's not lost, but--

She sniffs at a patch of disturbed snow. A track?

But-- no. At least, it doesn't smell like anything. Well. Anything except more snow. 

The wind howls-- but there’s another sound above it. Something moves in the trees-- a dark shape. Another wolf?

Rime leaps up, scattering snow, her heart hammering--

And a dark, drab little sparrow flies off, the branch it was perched on rattling in its wake.

Rime huffs. Stupid bird.

She turns around, trying to force her hackles to smooth. Watches her paws, for a while, trudging through the deep snow, her fur all crusted with ice and glittering, in the moonlight. She isn't scared- she definitely, absolutely isn't scared- but she is tired.

That leap after the sparrow seemed to cost more energy than it should've; her legs want to fold up, under her. Maybe she should just lie down, and wait for the others to find her? Dace would have noticed her missing by now.

A snowflake lands on her nose; she sneezes, looks up--

And there is a strange, enormous thing standing in her way, black against the blowing white of the storm. Not a sparrow, this time. Bigger. Way bigger.

Rime flattens herself down into a crouch; maybe it won't see her against the snow? Her fur is pale enough--

She can’t fight it; a monster like Rover says live out east, with horns and teeth and--

The Thing steps closer.

Oh. It's a deer. 

An enormous deer, to be fair, a buck, with antlers like big, heavy branches, the tines sharp as cougar-claws. He trudges on through the snow- he doesn't see her. Rime takes a deep breath, steadying herself; and smells him.

Instantly, her mouth floods with drool. He's healthy, he’s meat, hot blood and thick fat-- her stomach growls.

The buck straightens; he’d heard that, his huge rack of antlers swinging up with his head, points glittering as he looks around--

Rime leaps at him, desperate, and he snorts, ducks his head, and charges straight-on, trying to ram her.

Rime twists in the air-- the antlers just miss her! She woofs a brief, involuntary laugh at her narrow escape-- and his shoulder gets her square in the gut.

Rimes goes flying into the trees-- a heavy, bruising impact. She scrambles for her footing and goes down again, gasping, all the wind knocked out of her.

The buck flees, breaking branches and crashing through underbrush, his brute strength making easy work of the deep snow.

Rime watches his tail disappear into the blizzard and slumps down, bruised and tired, her mouth still watering.

[gutterclan]

Wolvember Day Nine: Winter

Now that they have a little food again, it's easier to like the winter.

Seven doesn't have to think we won't be able to hunt in this when it starts to snow. Doesn't have to tear her fur out over whether to send Hat Trick hunting while she's injured, doesn’t worry about risking the untrained adolescents.

She sighs. If you'd told her last winter the sorts of things she'd be deciding now-- life or death things-- 

She had been so young then. Grown but young, in the easy company of her brothers, no cares beyond her next meal. That slow, soft winter. Only a year past.

She shakes off the thought like a summer black fly. Looks out across the territory. From the heights of the Overlook, all of Sanctuary is laid out before her: the meadows of The Jawbone and The Crooked Wood beyond. The light is soft, the shadows falling long and blue with dawn. All is quiet beneath the snow, all still, all the world asleep but her. 

A voice comes, softly, from behind. "Something gnawin’ on you?"

Seven doesn't look up. "Just thinking."

"Ah, I try not to do that, myself." Rover laughs- but quietly. There is something about the silence- the absolute silence- of the winter morning that is hard to break.

She settles down by Seven's side, a welcome warmth. 

Suddenly cold- suddenly freezing- Seven presses tight against her side, squeezes her eyes shut. Breathes in Rover's scent; familiar, comforting.

"Hey." Rover shifts, curling them more tightly together. "Hey. What's goin' on?"

"Just--" Seven shakes her head. Says, again, "just thinking."

"What about?"

"I don't know."

Rover presses her cheek to Seven's briefly, and lets the silence settle over them. 

The sun begins to rise beneath their perch, reaching silver fingers through the forest. The shadows of the trees splay out long across the snow. In the camp below, Finch pokes his head out from his den, squinting into the dawn.

"I guess," Seven says, after a while. "Thinking-- how much has changed."

"Since it was just you and me?"

Since--" Seven drops her head onto her paws.

"Since before?"

"Mm." Seven shrugs. "This time last year..."

"I was eating garbage," Rover says. "Living by the dump."

"I was still with my family. All I worried about was-- squabbling with my brothers. Playing tugbone." 

She presses her cheek to Rover's, trying to reassure; I love you, I'm not going anywhere.

Rover nudges her back, all affection. "It's gone fast, hasn't it?"

"Seems like a long time ago. Most days."

There is another pause; there seems to be no rush, in this slowly dawning day. It has begun to snow; big, fat flakes that seem to barely feel the pull of gravity. 

"Not today?" Rover asks, after a while.

Seven shrugs.

"Should I leave you?"

"No." The answer is immediate. "No. Please-- stay." 

Rover settles herself to wait. Tucks her chin over Seven's neck, so they are curled together as close and warm as they can manage. Their breath rises, goes to fog, and mingles.

The pack stirs far below, stretching and blinking and greeting one another, their voices too distant to make out-- a wordless, familiar music. The peaks of the mountains turn slowly gold, as the sun creeps high enough to reach them. 

Rover and Saturn sit, together, and watch the new day rise over Sanctuary.

As a bonus, I listened to Kevin Devine’s Just Stay like. over & over while I was writing this. I think it suits the story p well!

[all art assets Wolvden’s]

[duel-of-the-dolls]

American Girl Armageddon: Travel & Exploration (Round 1)

Which outfit is the best?

Wilderness

Winter Sightseeing

Voting ended onMar 14