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by Marten on Wed Mar 28, 2007 4:30 pm
Isiwen combed his fingers through the thick, luxurious fur that covered the feline's side, his hand moving down towards its wounds. If it did not live through the night after his care, it would make for both a fine feast and a cloak (and then some) that he could use to shield himself during his infrequent ventures into the mountains. If the beast had not bled out to such an extent, Isiwen would have had to engage it in combat, even though he was only level with its chest.
Coming to the realization that the animal could awaken at any moment, disoriented from the loss of blood, he went to work as if it were nothing more than a mundane task he undertook daily. Firmly grasping the shaft nearest him, he forcefully extracted the arrow from within the cat's flesh, fresh blood spilling out of the now vacant cavity. The arrow's tip was nothing more than stone crudely sharpened to a point, its edges serrated. He brought the blood-soaked tip to his face, his eyelids fluttering as he fought back the ever-present temptation that every Vyken felt when confronted with fresh blood. Isiwen's nostrils flared as he thoroughly inspected the stone, his heightened senses sniffing for poison. Once he was convinced that it held no toxins, he tossed the arrow aside and made quick work of the others.
Removing his leggings, Isiwen made a make-shift dressing, covering the wounds with the leather while fastening it in place with the woven cord, which was more difficult than it seemed. He had struggled to lift the beast with one arm while running the cord beneath it and out to the other side with the other arm. He let out a deep sigh, whispering, "That should hold until I return."
He rose from the ground after giving the dressing a tug to be sure of its resilience. Peering into the distance, his eyes looked past the forest and into the mountains that lay beyond, piercing the sky, solemn and severe like a warrior's blade. As keen as Isiwen's sight was, he could not truly see through the trees. He merely brought back memories of the range and its unforgiving terrain. His gaze fell to the torpid feline, anger rising within him. It was true that his people were known more for their sudden fits of rage than altruism, but there was a sense of indecency that fueled his fury. What sort of wretch would harm such a beautiful animal?
The broad expanse of his chest rose and fell steadily as he calmed himself, knowing that anger would not help it survive. Stepping away from the fallen form, Isiwen took off at a sprint, no longer moving like a man. Once he had attained a fair amount of speed, he leaned forward and pressed his palms against the earth. Upon the first bestial bound, his speed nearly tripled, while he crossed more terrain than he would have up-right. He was headed towards the spot where he had first become aware of the snow cat. He had left a satchel that held his tools and provisions, used when he was away from the village his tribe called home, behind.
He knew that he would have to warn them, but that could wait for the time being. Moving through the trees, Isiwen came to a skidding halt, having heard movement coming from the south west. Crouching lower to the ground, an arrow suddenly fell before him, oscillating from the force it had struck the earth with. A guttural growl emanated from overhead as three shrouded figures landed audibly, surrounding him.
"It seems we rushed for nothing. It's just the lone cub," said the form directly before Isiwen, "who seems to have made a kill." It was Etien, one of the Vyken guard that protected the tribes and their lands. He was at complete odds in appearance when compared to Isiwen. While Isiwen appeared to be a mortal with beastly features, Etien resembled a vyke that stood erect and had the bare minimum in mortal attributes. His feet were more like paws, the heels held aloft. Etien's head doubled that of Isiwen's in size, his fangs glistening menacingly as he spoke, eyes of a deep amber watching Isiwen rise. His ears, like a vyke's, were situated at the top of his head, while his entire body was covered with a thick coat of livid fur, ruddy streaks running down the length of his arms. Of Etien's companions, one was a animalistic as he while the other had a finer coat and human feet. Their attire was much like Isiwen's, meant to obfuscate the eyes of their quarry and conceal them within the weald that was their home.
The third spoke, his voice carrying with it an articulation of arrogance, "Who knew a pup could do such a thing. Especially one as fair as he with senses as dull as a newborn child."
"They're sharp enough to kill you where you stand, Bikram." It was the second Vyken, LĆĀ¼z, that spoke. "We did not come to bicker, but to investigate the taint of blood we caught while on patrol. Now, where is the carcass? From the amount of blood in the air, we can feed for weeks."
"It lays leagues from here, but it still lives. The beast, a snow cat, was driven out of the mountains by something that hunted it. Now that you're here, it may live. I was on my way to fetch my things, but the three of you are a better set of tools. I require your allheal. I may need all of it. Before you begin arguing, know that I shall replenish your vessels myself." He paused, before adding, "Better yet, follow me."
Turning his back to Etien, Isiwen took off once more, leading the pack as they moved towards the stream that served as a boundary, separating Leaf and Tree from Star and Sky, the two Vyken houses that were divided into various villages around the valley. Isiwen hailed from the Yew tribe and was one of the few that survived the fire that overtook its village. Etien and his companions were from the Oak tribe, their strength derived from the tree that was their emblem.
Their pace slackened as they crossed the stream and stood, mouths agape, at the terrible beauty and strength of the feline, even as it lay prostrate. Etien and his men set their bows aside, moving closer to better take in the magnificence.
"The allheal... We shall give it all if need be..."
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