Post by Wanderlust on Dec 9, 2019 18:14:18 GMT -5
❝ I travel because it's a part of me, the same way your fur is a part of you. ❞
The crashing of the falls in the distance made hope rise in the canine's chest. A front paw tucked tightly to his chest as he shakily navigated the rough terrain. He was reminded of his littermate in that moment, when they were young, his smaller brother had always been getting himself hurt. Funny how things changed.
And things had changed indeed. Here was Silas, alone in the cold. Well, it was cold for Callidum, at least. He looked like a puppy who had come home after playing too roughly, and nursing his injuries. Except his were much worse than bumps and bruises from puppy-play.
A large wildcat had attacked him, dropped from a tree in the middle of the night as he was passing through a small stand of sycamore trees. He had been unaware of the cat's presence. Taken by surprise and fueled by adrenaline, he had bolted as the creature's claws dug deeper into his soft flesh. It was a wonder he had survived at all, given the extent of his injuries.
After a few days of resting in one spot, he had begun moving yet again, but changed the direction. Instead of going to the edge of the red pines, where he visited every winter, he had headed toward the Falls. There would be more available food and plants, and in his state, he needed all he could get to heal correctly.
Now he was no expert at healing, but knew a few basic things. Dark, dry leaves sloppily laid out over his wounds, which consisted of multiple deep claw marks spread out over his large frame. His front foreleg had its dewclaw torn practically off, and was a deep, gaping wound in which the swelling had yet to reside.
He was afraid the wounds would fester, and get infected. There really wasn't much he could do about that, he was afraid. All he could really do was get to somewhere with readily available food and water, and hope to pull through.
Staggering out of the deep undergrowth, he caught sight of the river, its surface reflecting the cold sunlight. His nose immediately went to the ground, and he headed toward the direction of the crashing water. Now what he needed was a place rest before he dropped of exhaustion.
And things had changed indeed. Here was Silas, alone in the cold. Well, it was cold for Callidum, at least. He looked like a puppy who had come home after playing too roughly, and nursing his injuries. Except his were much worse than bumps and bruises from puppy-play.
A large wildcat had attacked him, dropped from a tree in the middle of the night as he was passing through a small stand of sycamore trees. He had been unaware of the cat's presence. Taken by surprise and fueled by adrenaline, he had bolted as the creature's claws dug deeper into his soft flesh. It was a wonder he had survived at all, given the extent of his injuries.
After a few days of resting in one spot, he had begun moving yet again, but changed the direction. Instead of going to the edge of the red pines, where he visited every winter, he had headed toward the Falls. There would be more available food and plants, and in his state, he needed all he could get to heal correctly.
Now he was no expert at healing, but knew a few basic things. Dark, dry leaves sloppily laid out over his wounds, which consisted of multiple deep claw marks spread out over his large frame. His front foreleg had its dewclaw torn practically off, and was a deep, gaping wound in which the swelling had yet to reside.
He was afraid the wounds would fester, and get infected. There really wasn't much he could do about that, he was afraid. All he could really do was get to somewhere with readily available food and water, and hope to pull through.
Staggering out of the deep undergrowth, he caught sight of the river, its surface reflecting the cold sunlight. His nose immediately went to the ground, and he headed toward the direction of the crashing water. Now what he needed was a place rest before he dropped of exhaustion.
❝ It's a peaceful existence, really. ❞
