Castaway (Open)
Aug 29, 2014 17:52:49 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 17:52:49 GMT -5
Alright I know this is not the ocean, but I am just going to say that he traveled before reaching this place.)
Saprosia had been hopelessly adrift for several days now, clinging steadfast to the small log that had ferried him far away from his homeland and the betrayal he had suffered by his pack. Terrified of the isolation and the dangers of the vast open water, he had at first wanted desperately to return to the familiarity of his home, and to the security of solid ground and towering trees. Once he had the opportunity to overcome his initial shock, he howled and barked persistently, pausing frequently to listen for a response. When that failed, and his throat was hoarse, he instinctively attempted to swim back in the direction of the tropical shore he had left behind instead.
Immediately after plunging back into the sea, however, he rediscovered the wounds left to him by his commander. They had quieted with his prior stillness, and now the pain they inflicted fueled his efforts to swim home. The undertaking was brief, though, and he tired quickly as a result of his injuries. Soon, he also became afraid of the large shapes that moved languidly through the water below him, his commander's attempt to drag him below the surface and drown him still a persistent memory...
He reversed clumsily, obviously ill-equipped for this liquid environment, and after several long minutes of panic, wherein he feared he had lost his only remaining refuge, he finally located the log and struggled back on top. He curled tightly in on himself again with his tail tucked between his legs, blood and water streaming from him, and watched the large shapes apprehensively. They approached several times, investigating his log with inquisitive bumps, and even showered him with water in a sudden display of fearsome power against each other, but they made no further move against him. Eventually his coat dried, and their interest waned. From that point on, Saprosia made no more excursions into the ocean, and they did not return.
The days and nights began to blend together his second day at sea. Desperate for water, he had attempted to drink what surrounded him, despite the fact it smelled foul. He regretted his foolishness immediately, violently expelling the contents of his stomach, and further worsening his condition. Injured and severely dehydrated, he finally succumbed to a numbed torpor the third day, his body slowly consumed by a fever that was eerily reminiscent of the flames that had licked his fur and scorched his saplings just a few nights ago. His clouded mind was likewise drifting in rhythm with the ocean waves and his own heart beat, and his thoughts were a fog. The sting of his wounds and newly acquired sunburn reminded him of his earthly bonds infrequently while he was still, and he spent most of his time dazed and broiling, or fitfully asleep.
- - - — — — - - -
Bump... bump, bump... BUMP. Saprosia was abruptly jarred awake at the sudden impact. His mind reeled, instantly suspecting that the dark shapes that had he disturbed before had finally come back for him, and he lurched stiffly to his feet. The wolf peered nervously around with his ears pinned back and his tail tucked, bleary eyed and shaking. BUMP. A... rock... He thought slowly, narrowing his eyes in confusion, repeating the thought. A rock. Then his eyes widened in sudden understanding. A ROCK! His head shot up, a painful gesture, and he breathed in deeply, greedily. He had reached land! Praise the Gods! He had reached land!
The small creature blinked, realizing that the dark, fuzzy mass that rose before him was a towering mountain, and that he was fortunate enough to have washed up upon a gently inclined beach rather than the crags that would be popular elsewhere. The wonderful discovery lifted his spirit and inspired him to action, so Saprosia jerked his claws from the log so that he could finally disembark. Unfortunately, one of his paws caught when he tried to move forward, and he fell into the shallow, icy water with a splash, twisting the limb roughly. He gurgled a sharp whine, and struggled to the surface again. The fall had freed him, and he swam the remaining distance to land on the beach.
He crawled slowly from the waves, weak and panting, occasionally sputtering from the water caught in his throat and nose. "Blessed Mother and Father..." he breathed, his shaking legs collapsing gratefully onto the dark sand, still within reach of the calmly lapping water." We have sworn to honor the gifts You so graciously bestow upon us..." he murmured, bowing his head as though in reverence. His gravitational resistance was swiftly crumbling and his vision was clouding from over exertion. The spots that floated lazily before him seemed to be coalescing into larger moving shapes, but he dismissed them as fabrications induced by fever and fatigue.
The strength to hold his heavy head fled from him then and his exhaustion finally laid claim to the very last of his physical reserves. He laid there, sprawled awkwardly on his left side so that only his deformed white coloration and his charred saplings were clearly visible, deeply gouging the sand. The infected gashes and bite marks on his back leg and side— and the weeping blisters on his flesh from prolonged sun exposure— were immediately evident, as were his other minor burns from his encounter with the fire that had driven him into the sea in the first place...
The old wolf did not even have the energy to properly position himself in respect and bare his pale throat to the approaching shadows. He closed his eyes tiredly, his vision as equally crippled as his body, and silently prepared to accept his fate. "Please... have mercy on this wretch..." he sighed, barely more than a whisper, but surely clear enough for the divine.
Saprosia had been hopelessly adrift for several days now, clinging steadfast to the small log that had ferried him far away from his homeland and the betrayal he had suffered by his pack. Terrified of the isolation and the dangers of the vast open water, he had at first wanted desperately to return to the familiarity of his home, and to the security of solid ground and towering trees. Once he had the opportunity to overcome his initial shock, he howled and barked persistently, pausing frequently to listen for a response. When that failed, and his throat was hoarse, he instinctively attempted to swim back in the direction of the tropical shore he had left behind instead.
Immediately after plunging back into the sea, however, he rediscovered the wounds left to him by his commander. They had quieted with his prior stillness, and now the pain they inflicted fueled his efforts to swim home. The undertaking was brief, though, and he tired quickly as a result of his injuries. Soon, he also became afraid of the large shapes that moved languidly through the water below him, his commander's attempt to drag him below the surface and drown him still a persistent memory...
He reversed clumsily, obviously ill-equipped for this liquid environment, and after several long minutes of panic, wherein he feared he had lost his only remaining refuge, he finally located the log and struggled back on top. He curled tightly in on himself again with his tail tucked between his legs, blood and water streaming from him, and watched the large shapes apprehensively. They approached several times, investigating his log with inquisitive bumps, and even showered him with water in a sudden display of fearsome power against each other, but they made no further move against him. Eventually his coat dried, and their interest waned. From that point on, Saprosia made no more excursions into the ocean, and they did not return.
The days and nights began to blend together his second day at sea. Desperate for water, he had attempted to drink what surrounded him, despite the fact it smelled foul. He regretted his foolishness immediately, violently expelling the contents of his stomach, and further worsening his condition. Injured and severely dehydrated, he finally succumbed to a numbed torpor the third day, his body slowly consumed by a fever that was eerily reminiscent of the flames that had licked his fur and scorched his saplings just a few nights ago. His clouded mind was likewise drifting in rhythm with the ocean waves and his own heart beat, and his thoughts were a fog. The sting of his wounds and newly acquired sunburn reminded him of his earthly bonds infrequently while he was still, and he spent most of his time dazed and broiling, or fitfully asleep.
- - - — — — - - -
Bump... bump, bump... BUMP. Saprosia was abruptly jarred awake at the sudden impact. His mind reeled, instantly suspecting that the dark shapes that had he disturbed before had finally come back for him, and he lurched stiffly to his feet. The wolf peered nervously around with his ears pinned back and his tail tucked, bleary eyed and shaking. BUMP. A... rock... He thought slowly, narrowing his eyes in confusion, repeating the thought. A rock. Then his eyes widened in sudden understanding. A ROCK! His head shot up, a painful gesture, and he breathed in deeply, greedily. He had reached land! Praise the Gods! He had reached land!
The small creature blinked, realizing that the dark, fuzzy mass that rose before him was a towering mountain, and that he was fortunate enough to have washed up upon a gently inclined beach rather than the crags that would be popular elsewhere. The wonderful discovery lifted his spirit and inspired him to action, so Saprosia jerked his claws from the log so that he could finally disembark. Unfortunately, one of his paws caught when he tried to move forward, and he fell into the shallow, icy water with a splash, twisting the limb roughly. He gurgled a sharp whine, and struggled to the surface again. The fall had freed him, and he swam the remaining distance to land on the beach.
He crawled slowly from the waves, weak and panting, occasionally sputtering from the water caught in his throat and nose. "Blessed Mother and Father..." he breathed, his shaking legs collapsing gratefully onto the dark sand, still within reach of the calmly lapping water." We have sworn to honor the gifts You so graciously bestow upon us..." he murmured, bowing his head as though in reverence. His gravitational resistance was swiftly crumbling and his vision was clouding from over exertion. The spots that floated lazily before him seemed to be coalescing into larger moving shapes, but he dismissed them as fabrications induced by fever and fatigue.
The strength to hold his heavy head fled from him then and his exhaustion finally laid claim to the very last of his physical reserves. He laid there, sprawled awkwardly on his left side so that only his deformed white coloration and his charred saplings were clearly visible, deeply gouging the sand. The infected gashes and bite marks on his back leg and side— and the weeping blisters on his flesh from prolonged sun exposure— were immediately evident, as were his other minor burns from his encounter with the fire that had driven him into the sea in the first place...
The old wolf did not even have the energy to properly position himself in respect and bare his pale throat to the approaching shadows. He closed his eyes tiredly, his vision as equally crippled as his body, and silently prepared to accept his fate. "Please... have mercy on this wretch..." he sighed, barely more than a whisper, but surely clear enough for the divine.
