01-05-2018, 02:37 PM
She arrived in one of the later waves that crash every now and then through Whiteridge Range, a tide of hungry mouths and wild eyes looking for shelter among hungrier mouths and wilder eyes. They flooded in, sand caked in the ridges of their paws, desert rats with ribs pushing against their skin, visible under thin layers of coarse furâ€â€Âand she the smallest and thinnest among them. Scarce had grown scarcer under cloudless skies; en masse, the embittered residents of the bitter little town left their meager possessions and (doing the bare minimum required in cooperative endeavors such as these) abandoned the golden dunes, migrating to greener pastures, so to speak. It seems they only traded in one desert for another.
She nearly stayed behind. Not because she loved the desertâ€â€Âyou would have more luck coaxing a camel through the eye of a needle than making Radiantpaw love the desertâ€â€Âbut because there were things she was waiting for that made the desert worth it. Things that eased the sweltering days and the freezing nights, that made the parched throat and empty stomach bearable. But whatever she's waiting for...well, they won't find her if she's buried beneath the sand. And if news of this place spreads as fast as it did when her distrustful desert community heard of it, then she has hope they'll come looking for her here.
But the days are long, and this new world is choked in ice. Rey huddles under a thin piece of cloth, its tattered edges barely enough to shield her light frame from the elements. There is food in her belly, but it is not enough to quench its grumblings, and she has not known her new neighbors long enough to figure out for what they would barter prey. She crouches low, curling into herself, shivering. She doubts that they would trade away such valuable resources, not when survival is now more than ever a precious commodity. In the desert, at least, she knew how to get by. Here she is nothing more than a lost kit again, promises petal-fresh in her head.
She nearly stayed behind. Not because she loved the desertâ€â€Âyou would have more luck coaxing a camel through the eye of a needle than making Radiantpaw love the desertâ€â€Âbut because there were things she was waiting for that made the desert worth it. Things that eased the sweltering days and the freezing nights, that made the parched throat and empty stomach bearable. But whatever she's waiting for...well, they won't find her if she's buried beneath the sand. And if news of this place spreads as fast as it did when her distrustful desert community heard of it, then she has hope they'll come looking for her here.
But the days are long, and this new world is choked in ice. Rey huddles under a thin piece of cloth, its tattered edges barely enough to shield her light frame from the elements. There is food in her belly, but it is not enough to quench its grumblings, and she has not known her new neighbors long enough to figure out for what they would barter prey. She crouches low, curling into herself, shivering. She doubts that they would trade away such valuable resources, not when survival is now more than ever a precious commodity. In the desert, at least, she knew how to get by. Here she is nothing more than a lost kit again, promises petal-fresh in her head.