The Antler Mountains ~A Wolf RP~

Status
Not open for further replies.
Brynn walked up to a random tree. She attempted to climb up it, but she failed.
Hato was just starting to head back when he thought he smelt Brynn. Normally, he would of thought it was probably not her, but because she often wondered away, he decided to go check it out.
 
(Thank you! Not really a writer. I used to love creative writing in high school but haven't done much since then.)

Silverfoot's eyes squeezed tighter. He could hear the wolves closing in, or was it the hunters that he had just escaped from? Either way, he was preparing for his demise. His paws stung, his ragged pelt clung to his ribs, revealing a wolf who had had very little to eat for quite some time. A combination of a scarcity of prey and his constant urge to keep moving, keep his forward momentum had contributed to his current state. He knew, either way, that he surely would succumb to the vultures circling about him. He struggled to stand up again, his limbs trembling with the effort. He collapsed once, twice. But finally, he managed to keep in an upright position. If something was going to take him down, he would spend his dying breath fighting, no matter how weak he was, no matter how numb and tired and sore he was. He drew in a shaky breath and cast his piercing yellowed eyes upward to face whoever approached him head on.
 
Hato was just starting to head back when he thought he smelt Brynn. Normally, he would of thought it was probably not her, but because she often wondered away, he decided to go check it out.
Brynn tried again. She stood on her back legs, her front paws against the tree, and jumped. It, of course, didn’t work.
 
Brynn tried again. She stood on her back legs, her front paws against the tree, and jumped. It, of course, didn’t work.
Brynn's scent started being stronger the more Hato walked. Feeling like he was getting close, Hato called to her. "Brynn. Are you out there?"
 
(Thank you! Not really a writer. I used to love creative writing in high school but haven't done much since then.)

Silverfoot's eyes squeezed tighter. He could hear the wolves closing in, or was it the hunters that he had just escaped from? Either way, he was preparing for his demise. His paws stung, his ragged pelt clung to his ribs, revealing a wolf who had had very little to eat for quite some time. A combination of a scarcity of prey and his constant urge to keep moving, keep his forward momentum had contributed to his current state. He knew, either way, that he surely would succumb to the vultures circling about him. He struggled to stand up again, his limbs trembling with the effort. He collapsed once, twice. But finally, he managed to keep in an upright position. If something was going to take him down, he would spend his dying breath fighting, no matter how weak he was, no matter how numb and tired and sore he was. He drew in a shaky breath and cast his piercing yellowed eyes upward to face whoever approached him head on.

Fang raps the wolf's wounds with an old pelt of a rabbit and puts a little bit of snow to numb the pain.
 
(Thank you! Not really a writer. I used to love creative writing in high school but haven't done much since then.)
(You should be one. You're very good at it. You should keep it up. :) )
 
Status
Not open for further replies.

New posts New threads Active threads

Back
Top Bottom