In [p]ools among the rushes, That scarce could bathe a star |
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Mars
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The sun slipped wearily beneath the horizon, like an old man easing carefully into his bed after a long day. Mars sat among the trees of Silver Creek, watching between the tall, slender pine and birch trunks as the golden king of the heavens dipped down to rest behind a distant mountain. The last slats of light that lay gold and quiescent slowly shrunk, until with the last final moments of day they flickered into nonexistence.
Mars let a dreamy sigh flow past his lips, and then, his moment of relaxation was over. He lifted himself to his feet and glanced around, bringing his attention away from daydreams and back to the real world. He was supposed to be patrolling, not whiling away the sunset wondering where Stratus Bliss was or what he should do about Levi, the young pup that had resided in his den for a day and should now be making his way home.
Reminding himself of his duty, the Guardian made his way to the borders in the growing dusk. The atmosphere didn't seem particularly safe in these troubled times; there were many ill wolves about, and the cause of their illness was as yet unknown. Mars had heard rumor of the sickness having spread throughout the Valley, though no one knew what the ailment was nor how to cure it. The Theta himself had been in the grip of the disease, briefly but intensely. Fever, nausea, and a splitting headache for nearly a week had subsided at last to his current condition. His head throbbed with a dull ache all the time, and pangs of nausea still hit him every once in a while. He was lucky, though.
Reportedly, a few wolves in the Salvajes had had it bad. Fever and stomach sickness was the least of their worries: they were delirious. Mars felt profound pity for them, but knew he wouldn't be in their place for anything. But those were the times they lived in, growing progressively uneasy. If wolves were delirious or otherwise crazed, who knew what they might do? And who knew what illness or even multiple illnesses might be causing such a wide range of symptoms? There were no answers to these questions.
So Mars had been taking himself to the borders whenever he wasn't eating or sleeping or checking in on his den. If any wolves tried to cross the territory, they would be subject to a thorough interrogation by the Guardian of Silver Creek. If they were possibly ill, well, they wouldn't be passing through there. They'd have to go around to get wherever they pleased.
Mars began walking the borderline.
This post has been edited by Mars on Jul. 22, 2006 - 5:24pm
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Sinistra
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The list of territories in the Salvajes to search for a cure was shortening considerably. Four of the more popular unclaimed lands — Wild Fire Forest, White Rose Lake, Silent Moon Plateau and Forbidden Swamp — were all checked off. Each a day’s worth of searching, each a day’s worth of failure. Three of the packlands were much the same, all with the exception of Silver Creek. Having ended up in Mount Shadow and Strawberry Fields, Sinistra decided to finish up the route in the Creek, much as he loathed doing, to get it out of the way and check in with whomever was available to update him on the pack’s status.
But Sin didn’t expect to find anything cure-wise there. They had, er, a fine young Medic on the job (unless he had fallen ill himself) and the idea of prancing around that particular territory was enough to make the Novan ill, whether he touched the water or not. Everything was “settled” between them now (or so he believed), yet he much preferred to keep his distance anyway. They weren’t his enemies, but they sure as hell weren’t his friends, either.
Still, when it came to cure-searching, all bets were off. The sun had set (incidentally, as he neared the edges of the swamp— or, er, creek— the Alpha wondered whether visiting at night was at all wise) and the day was gone. Another day without a cure… every time that happened, which was every time the universe’s great fire dipped below the horizon, came a new drive to try even harder to find something. Anything. So Sinistra had forgone sleeping the nights away; he would nap when necessary. All spare energy would be directed to cure searching. And if he happened upon Nova Mountain every once in a day or two, they would be lucky.
And if anyone there had anything to say about his absence, they wouldn’t be so lucky.
At least he was doing something. That was more than could be said for most.
Unlike where he had teetered on the edge of the border in Mount Shadow and Strawberry Fields while waiting for natives to happen upon him and extend their greetings, Sinistra did not even set a single foot over the Creek’s side of things. Instead, for the benefit of everyone involved, the exhausted visitor plopped himself down just outside the pack’s territory and waited.
It already sounded like someone was approaching. |
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Mars
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Honestly, he hadn't expected to run into anyone this evening, and certainly not so quickly. The duties of a Guardian weren't exciting, for the most part, as most respected boundaries and simply went around a territory rather than pass through it. Thus, when someone did come directly to the borders, it was likely they had business in the lands, and so, when Mars heard the crack of twigs and leaves and grass under a paw that was not his own, he decided to investigate.
There, he saw the offending noisemaker. A wolf, with the somewhat rare coloring that Mars had seen only on one wolf. "Ivan?" he queried, incredulously, then halted in his steps, eyes narrowing in vague confusion. Ivan hadn't had golden eyes, or had he? "No," Mars murmured softly, for Ivan hadn't had golden eyes and thus this stranger was not he. "Who are you?" That was the next question, delivered in a stronger voice.
He was an unfamiliar wolf, not of Silver Creek, who sat just on the other side of the scent-marked border. Mars's nose twitched, and one ear flicked to catch the sound of a bird in the trees. The scent told him what was off about this male: he was from Nova Mountain. A tightness caught his chest at the thought. He hoped this would not be some fool wishing to reignite the tension that had once existed between their respective packs. "Can I help you?" he said delicately, wanting to feel as though he had the upper hand in the conversation and steering it the way he wished it to go.
Caution was always commendable.
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Sinistra
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When it came to cracking twigs underneath what he meticulously tried to make “careful” paws, Sinistra had hit the absolute inversion of the luck jackpot: in this situation it was not quite as bad as others, because he was, after all, waiting for someone to find him, but still. Creeping was not his forte, and yet how he loved it…
But the tired, travelling Alpha had not been creeping. Instead, his only motion was the bored shift of weight back and forth on weary, noisy paws. They had journeyed too long without meaningful rest since the illness had struck, and they were protesting all of this idle standing quite fervently. Although incredulous how often it had happened that twigs and rustling flora on the grass floor had caused him to be “found” as of late, Sin was pleased to see another approach.
Brow furrowed, however, when the other pronounced him to be “Ivan,” in response to this the Novan said not a word. It seemed his greeter quickly sorted it out for himself anyway, and as the cure-searcher vaguely remembered from a long, tortorous time spent in the Swamp with Allure, it was best not to try to argue with someone who was delusional — and the sickness was so frequent, one could never be too careful. As their meeting continued to unfold,Sinistra was relieved to find that was not the case — or at least, not outwardly apparently so.
Can I help you? I have no idea, the visitor replied calmly, plainly, for the moment skipping past the other’s inquiry as to his identity. I guess you’ll have to tell me. My name is Sinistra, and I’m looking for a cure to the illness in the Valley. I was hoping to find out what you — your pack, that is — know, and whether I can search your lands. He paused, watching the stranger carefully for any averse reaction to that idea, before adding, For a cure. I’ve been all over, and I’m trying to be as thorough as possible. And it would suck to be you if you said no and it eventually turned out that you should have said yes…
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Mars
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Mars listened to the male's explanation without any evident emotion besides the vague concern betokened by his raised eyebrows. Sinistra... that name was decidedly familiar. Mars just hadn't realized the old alpha was back in the valley. So, assuming he had returned to reclaim his throne on Nova Mountain, this was a visiting alpha, doing the work of... a medic? Weren't there, well, medics to be doing this? Unless Nova Mountain was lacking one, which Mars couldn't verify.
Still, the request was not such an unreasonable one, and at the explanation's conclusion, he smiled briefly and nodded. "I'm Mars," he felt obliged to offer. "I'm the Guardian, so I'd be the one to talk to about searching the lands. So long as you're not ill yourself, and you avoid any of the obviously ill wolves in the pack, it should be safe enough for you to enter without passing the disease on or getting sick yourself." He stepped forward, tilting his head in question.
"Have you had any symtoms within, say, the last few days?" He thought the other male smart enough that he wouldn't be gallivanting about if he were ill, yet it was always good to be on the safe side.
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Sinistra
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Oi. Just… oi. And he was instantly reminded of all the reasons why he should have jumped off a high, rocky cliff instead. It was too ironic for a witty, sarcastic retort; too mind-boggling to sigh irritably and play the doctor game… it was just downright amazing that this great bunch of imbeciles had no qualms about parading around on other’s lands and yet had a long, detailed list of (ignorant) questions to ask anyone who came within twenty feet of their swamp…
Okay. Be nice, Sinistra reminded himself: no need to start up all the arguing again, but really! He didn’t have time for Guardian boy to size him up as if there were something wrong with him when he was the one going on like a bumbling fool about something he quite evidently knew nothing about.
You know, the Alpha said tentatively and gently, politely; swallowing any desire he might have had to go up one side of Mars and down the other for being annoying, The disease goes through the water. It isn’t passed from wolf to wolf. If it was, we would all be looney by now. FYI.
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Mars
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Mars was surprised to hear the Nova Mountain wolf's answer to his question--which wasn't really an answer at all, but rather voided the question. He figured that "it does?" would not be an appropriate reaction to this piece of news, so he changed the wording a bit. "No, sir, I didn't know that. Thank you for informing me. I'll pass it along to my superiors, if they don't already know." In all honesty, he hadn't even thought of where the disease might come from or how it might really spread; it seemed only natural to think it could be contagious. This was mostly due to his very limited contact with other wolves during this time of sickness, for he had spoken to no one other than Leviathan lately. It was hard to find common factors in an illness when one did not speak with many others about it.
"I suppose," he said hesitantly, "That I've no further cause to detain you, then." He felt vaguely uneasy about allowing wolves into the lands still, slightly paranoid that Sphinx might visit her wrath upon him for letting them in. Still, he doubted this wolf would cause trouble; he was looking for a cure, after all. "Although you might like to be warned that we have several ill wolves about. Even our Alpha Female's been touched by the sickness, or so I've heard."
He shrugged, then, and swept aside to allow the cure-searching Sinistra in.
This post has been edited by Mars on Jul. 31, 2006 - 6:17pm
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Sinistra
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A better reaction than he could have hoped for — fully prepared to be faced with a defensive and, well, dense “how do you know?!”, Sinistra instead tilted his head thoughtfully in a vague gesture of “you’re welcome.” Then silently came the wonder: how many wolves had this most esteemed Guardian turned away thinking that everyone was breathing contageous insanity into the atmosphere…? Why, it almost sounded like something he would expect one of his brilliant underlings to do… alas, they were, er, as far as he knew, doing something productive with their imaginations.
What a stupid thing to tell them, the Alpha suddenly realized, half horrified at the thoughts that an overactive imagination of his own created. No, it wasn’t that he thought them all to be idiots — it was just that they had yet to demonstrate otherwise, most of them. A little common sense could make a big impression.
Right-o, chap, good show, Sin rejoined — though, once again, with diplomacy in mind only spoke in his mind — when Mars approved of his release from “detainment,” which was dreadfully difficult not to giggle at for it tickled him so… the black cure-searcher somehow felt as if he were being assessed for permission to visit the highest of queens. Who was, apparently, sick.
I wonder how they tell, the visitor continued to muse. True, he had liked Sphinx when they had met, but the Novan was otherwise unimpressed with how Creek wolves had run roughshod over his lands without so much as a remorseful “oopsie” from their regina grande… Thanks, Sinistra said plainly, Believe you me— I won’t stay long. I imagine your lands have already been combed over by your… most greatest, esteemed moron of a… …medic. There must be a lot of sickness here, being so close to the… grisly, mucky confines of the freakin’ swamp… …water.
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Mars
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Editing in a new table... hm, it's a bit dark. Dunno if I'll use it for long.
------------------------------------and the walls came crumbling down----
Well, at least this fellow was sensible. Mars wondered what medical background he had, and silently wished the ebony male well on his search. If the two had not been from the packs they were, and there hadn't been such a gap between their respective stations in those packs, Mars thought there might have been a potential for friendship between them. Then again, he was likely thinking rather naively: not every wolf who said a few sentences to him was looking at him as a potential friend, even if he himself viewed most others that way. Sighing inwardly at how misleading the world could be, Mars shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly and certainly not in a gesture directed at Sinistra. Why couldn't everyone be as straightforward as Mars usually was? Then again, while it would solve many problems, it would create others...
His thoughts were cut off when the male spoke, thanking him for admittance and making a comment about Silver Creek's medic. Mars furrowed his brow at that in concern, for he wasn't even sure that the pack had a medic, or if they did, he didn't know if she or he were well enough to search for a cure. It wouldn't be a particularly smart idea to confess such a doubt to the guest to their lands, yet Mars felt compelled to tell the other male to search as thoroughly as he liked, for it was unlikely there were many others scouring the Creeklands.
"By all means, take all the time you need. Anything that can be done to lead to a cure should be." This was the truth, delivered diplomatically in such a way as to not injure the pack's reputation. Still, it didn't address the aside about the medic. "Honestly, our Medic"--if we have one--"might be sick himself. I can't say for sure or not. We do have many ill. As you said, we're close to the water..." There, that should suffice.
"Good luck on your search," he offered. |
This post has been edited by Mars on Aug. 01, 2006 - 1:29am
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Sinistra
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I like the colors. :)
And where was he to go? True, permission to search Silver Creek’s lands high and low — but with common sense, of course — had been granted, yet by a self-styled Guardian who held who knew what rank. This Mars character struck him as one who was desperately lacking concrete information: as if someone had said, “here boy, go fend off the trespassers,” and left it at that, perhaps signaling with a good-natured by disinterested tilt of their head “good luck to you” before they wandered off to do more important, Alphaly things.
Not surprising: still, the visitor felt bad for his greeter, who was clearly in such a position that he was scampering to keep up, to remain “professional” in spite of missing all the tools needed to effectively do the job… Been in the Valley long? the wolf asked suddenly, demeanor remaining friendly, though gaze had since taken to appraising the stranger with skepticism.
It seemed Mars had twice made attempt to dismiss him and Sin had declined — for two reasons. The first was the most pressing, he thought, that after scouring the Valley for days and days looking for a cure when hardly anyone else was doing the same, settling for half-hearted, meaningless, evasive answers about what was going on in Silver Creek seemed a ridiculous notion. True, the Novan would never be a member of their fan club, but this was no time to be vague. Even the slightest, most seemingly insignificant details could be integral to finding the answers they were all seeking (some of them far more actively than others, as it were…). The second reason was that the black canine found the idea of parading around Silver Creek without someone to vouch for him to be among the greater of bad ideas.
But… information first. So Charcoal and Sphinx are ill? Who else? |
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Mars
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Your new table's gorgeous. :D Like I said, I didn't stick with the other one long at all. xP
Mars was surprised twice with the other male's responses. The first was an abstract-seeming question. "Been in the valley long?" Short of sputtering out an answer, which was his first instinct, Mars felt at a loss. How had that question come to the other wolf's mind? The jump was difficult to trace. Slowly, he shrugged and squinted with one eye, a general sign of thoughtfulness. "Since... the end of winter," he said, after a moment of figuring. Had it really been that long? For summer was a bit more than half over, and winter would regain its icy grip on the lands again before they knew it.
Mars was also puzzled as to why the other male had yet to depart; shouldn't the cure searching be continued as soon as it could be? Still, Mars wasn't going to complain, as Sinistra' manner had turned more friendly than before and Mars welcomed the conversation. "I remember when you left, before," he added. There wasn't judgement in his tone, for certainly the Alpha must have had his rhyme and reason. Mars knew about leaving places and reasons quite well himself. "Welcome back." Obviously he wasn't the first to say it to the ebon male, and it was certainly overdue, but as they say, better to deliver late than not at all.
"So Charcoal and Sphinx are ill? Who else?" was the second of the two curious sentences that Sinistra spoke. Mars didn't think they even had a Medic, but Sinistra had identified Charcoal as one. Interesting. Thinking back, the Theta could remember something Lasair had said about Charcoal having some of the medical knowledge, so while he figured they might not have anyone with the official co-rank, Charcoal was likely serving the purpose. Well, then, that was cleared up. "Artemis, the Storyteller," was his prompt reply, for the poor female had been sickly at the recent pack meeting. "Three or so others. I don't know them by names. However... as for Charcoal, I can say I don't beleive he's one of them. If he is ill, it is minor or not at all."
This post has been edited by Mars on Aug. 01, 2006 - 2:18pm
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Sinistra
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Thanks. I was fiddling with infrared settings and it came out pretty well, lol. ^^
Ah, the end of winter… Sinistra had arrived at the season’s beginning, just in time for the Coyote Expedition, and knew from all of that that Silver Creek did have a Medic. Although Charcoal, who had apparently since been promoted into a rank more important than any special duties, had erred greatly during the “great” war with the DarkLands Clan, the fact that he had been a Medic to Ravn did somewhat speak to his level of competence at least in comparison to the others whom were present… which said very little for how likely anyone in the Salvajes was to find a cure. Their only hope was that really good medics had arrived since then…
Thanks, the Novan offered in response: this confirmed that Mars knew with whom he was dealing. Irrelevant, really, because Sin had not come to Silver Creek as an Alpha or even really as a member of Nova Mountain. Cure searching transcended all politics of that sort… he hoped.
Artemis… searching a lengthy dossier of wolves met since early last December, this name found no match. If they had met he did not remember her: in fact, of the Creek he only knew Sphinx, GoldenShadow, Tiamat and, of course, Wip and Starchaser, who had defected to the place for reasons his mind could not even begin to comprehend — yet, all the more power to them, of course. To each their own.
Ah, he answered thoughtfully as Mars corrected that Charcoal was not severely ill, if under the weather at all. He was a Medic in the Expedition. I assume he’s cure searching himself, Sinistra mused aloud, though kept to himself the stray thought that wondered if the veteran had instead decided to call it quits as far as the healing field was concerned. Hope he’s having better luck. I’ve been all over, and the only interesting thing I’ve found was a pup who’s running his own farm trying to find a cure by forcing plants down sick animals’ throats. Trailing off amusedly, the Alpha quickly returned to the thought: …Or something like that. Not a bad idea, I guess, but I would hate to be a rabbit in Strawberry Fields. |
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Mars
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Sorry for the delay. Note to self, take no more AP classes.
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Sinistra seemed fairly happy to deliver a tidbit of information about the Silver Creek Gamma, and Mars was willing to listen. He hadn't known about Charcoal's medicinal ability, or at least not that it extended to-- something called a Coyote Expedition? This, for sure, he had not heard of, although he had thought it rather curious that the lands were missing a large coyote population when wolves were so plentiful. Yet how could he ask without seeming, well, stupid, if it were a major bit of the valley's history?
"Coyote expedition, sir? I can't say I've heard the tale of that one." Well, it was best to admit ignorance rather than try and disguise it. Thinking back, however, he remembered seeing a few scars on Sphinx's shoulder and--if he recalled correctly--possibly a few on her limbs. These were not the ordinary scars of disputes, he guessed now, for rarely were such injuries delivered in spars between wolves. With wolves, it wasn't particularly likely to have bloodshed, or if there was, the wounds were usually of the fatal variety. Had there been a feud between the Salvajes's coyotes and the wolves, beyond the typical species rivalry? He rather hoped Sinistra might educate him on the matter if there had.
Then the comment came about the pups' search for a cure, and at the idea of them pinning rabbits to test cures, Mars had to chuckle and grin. "Really, I suppose they can't do too much harm," he said thoughtfully, "But perhaps someone ought to keep an eye on this... experimentation. Or make them get volunteers instead of forcing 'em... I'm in your camp, though--you'd have to give me an awful lot besides a hole and a bunch of brats to make me a rabbit around here." Though after saying this, he reflected that if he could have those things, he might very well give up wolfishness for it. |
This post has been edited by Mars on Aug. 12, 2006 - 9:04pm
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Sinistra
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My last reply here, since the Boardwide Plot is over... :)
Ironic, the exhausted cure-searcher thought as Mars inquired further of the Coyote Expedition: in his travels endeavoring to be a Medic and find a worthwhile cure, Sinistra had really been more of a Lorekeeper. It seemed he had shared bits of the Valley’s history with most of those he had come in contact lately — Wip, Element, now Mars… It happened late last fall, although not wanting to waste too much time on a long, intricate story unless the Guardian wished to hear all of the details, the Alpha wasn’t opposed to sharing a quick overview. Coyotes killed a wolf, and wolves repaid the favor by invading the coyote hideaway and driving them out. I arrived just before it happened, he finished, telling the basics and the obligatory “I know this because…” statement.
Moving on to the latter portion of their chat, Sin nodded agreeably that it was somewhat suspect, all of this experimentation, and yet… Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose… And one could say, “they are only rabbits,” but it wasn’t a particularly good practice even on fleas — compassion was important, and the Novan was attempting to teach himself that lesson ad nauseum, as he often found himself forgetting it. But I’m sure, having seen the way the rabbits are kept and treated, that it’s as… humane as it can be… he trailed off, picking up again after a brief pause, Probably doing more lasting damage to the pups than the rabbits, Sin finished sadly, shaking his head in pity. Almost hope they find a cure, just to make it worthwhile. Speaking of, I probably ought to move on with cure searching myself… Here the Alpha trailed off again, mulling how to go about the Silver Creek lands, Thanks for your help.
And with that, the cure search was on once more. |
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Mars
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Assuming this is archivable?
Mars listened attentively to the explanation of the Coyote Expedition, nodding when Sinistra appeared to be done with the tale. It sounded as though it had been the wolves' perrogative to retaliate, though Mars was well-aware that there were two sides to every argument. It would have been an interesting time to be in the valley, he was sure, though he didn't envy those who at the time were.
Whatever response Mars might have had to any of what was said, he held it in when the other male announced that he ought to be on his way. "I wish you well on your venture," the Guardian said with a formal nod. "Should anyone detain you and be suspicious of your right to be here, just tell them to find me." He shrugged, for this was likely common sense to the ebony male, but it was always good to reiterate, just in case. "May the sickness not prey on you as well," was his parting statement, and then both wolves had continued on their way.
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