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Joined: 5-June 17
Last Seen: Today at 12:02 am
Local Time: Aug 20 2017, 07:32 PM
68 posts (0.9 per day)
( 0.39% of total forum posts )
Aug 12 2017, 03:00 PM
Well, despite obvious changes to his appearance (eg: his now-missing paw), there wasn't too much that had changed with Dusty. He remained somewhat scruffy, somewhat reclusive, and still rocking a more or less passive attitude, keeping cool in the face of all the colossal shit hitting the fan. He didn't talk about it, didn't consider things public knowledge, and more than anything he didn't want to be vulnerable. Not here. Despite the fact that he had lost his paw trying to help Windclan, he didn't expect for a moment that they'd return the favour.
Sucks. It's normal. He'd live.
But for right now, he was doing what he did best -- running. There was no way for him to be silent, not on three paws with a twoleg collar on his neck and a mark on his ear that claimed him and labelled him as a goddamn pet at best. So he relied on speed, and fun fact, even three legged coyotes could reach speeds of over 60 km/h, although, in Dusty's case, he was a little rusty. The turns were where he was having difficulty, the quickness and sharpness of it thrown off by the loss of his fourth tie to the ground. It was becoming an issue, difficult to use because of the infection that he was now sure in his future. But he wasn't going to stop. Never. It was life or death. So despite the pain, he was quickly getting used to in the severed limb, Dusty was slinking along the territory, following his nose when he found it. A plumper rabbit, one that didn't seem to notice him until he was close enough. And then... then it was on.
The rabbit and the coyote sprung at the same moment, statues coming to life. The rabbit was quicker on the start, but the coyote was fast to catch up. There -- Dusty spotted the hole the rabbit was going for before it started zigzagging, so he didn't need to match it. Instead, he just ran forth, and ... one more bound...
The coyote dove and caught the scruff of the rabbit in his jaws, killing it with a twist of the head and the quick, celery-snap of the prey's broken neck. Not bad. Except for the part where he barely caught it. It looked alright, but he could feel the difference, and he was still worn out when he stopped, prey hanging from his jaws and a generally slack look to his being. He needed to fix this.
Aug 5 2017, 07:00 PM
He hated them so much, fear and anger and despair mixing into a shitshow of rabid emotions that left him feeling hollowed out. He'd been gone from Windclan for so long now that it felt weird walking back, the stale scent of the clan still woven into his pelt, subtle under the scent of loner lands. Yeah, the humans hadn't had him long -- after they'd found the traps, he'd gone around trying to make sure that all the traps were gone. He'd been trying to help when he'd found himself stuck, just far enough that he couldn't be heard. And yeah, the humans came to get him, but no. No way. He'd been a pet already, trapped in a cage, left to pace and grow in concrete walls.He had the barcode tattoo on his ear, the metal around his neck, choke chain still intact. No. He wasn't going back.
So he did what he had to do to survive. He chewed off his leg in a process too graphic to think about, and he ran. Oh yeah, he'd wanted to run back to Windclan, but not with humans nearby. He darted off, lost them, and lost himself and...
Yeah. It'd taken a while to get back. He wasn't sure he would come back, but he was... he didn't have anywhere else to go. The city would eat him alive, and he felt despair pressing in on his existence and he -- he --
He was a coward. He had no gods to turn to, frightened and believing that there was nothing for him in the world. He had no whispered voices of spirits past or the guiding morals of a doctrine to give him a piece of mind. How could you believe in a higher power when you had nothing but that for which you fought tooth and nail? How could he believe in anything more than what he could see when he was screaming for help with his paw trapped in a piece of metal? There was no better fuel for faithlessness than despair. But now with the paw gone and an elongated stump left in its place (foreign, odd, it made his stomach twist), he found himself coming back. Infection laid just quietly under the surface, the beginning of it starting to be detectable but only just barely.
Exhausted, Dusty couldn't even speak as he crossed the border, messed up and dirtied and looking worse for wear.
Jun 24 2017, 10:56 PM
Well, his last conversation with another being was certainly annoying, and he'd be surprised if the argument between Onesky and him wasn't all over by now. The yelling match had started out bad and ended up worse and now he was just... vaguely angry. Stewing in his own distaste. Trying not to think about how mad
he was that he'd practically taken it like a dog, the coyote would stretch out his legs just outside camp, grumbling in another dialect, his words far more canine than anything else. The only vaguely recognisable words were 'stupid' and 'cat'. Ill-tempered, the coyote huffed and dragged his paw along the ground foul tempered as hell.@Rowanfall
Jun 22 2017, 04:00 PM
/sorry about my inactivity y'all! hoping to be more active now!
Dusty was in a damn good mood.
A rabbit hung from his jaws and with the whole 'blessing' from Starclan going on, it was a rather plump one at that. He'd already eaten, a small, split piece of prey comfortable in his stomach and the buzzing sensation of a runner's high still through his veins, deep in his bones. Hell yeah, he felt good. A good night's sleep, a good meal, a good run, a good day thus far. The sun beat down on him and he shook his fur out, tail wagging behind him. The rabbit was placed on the pile and he stretched out, happy to stand in the sun.
Oh yeah. Life was good.
Jun 14 2017, 08:18 PM
Dusty didn't make a habit of sleeping in camp. The others were sometimes made nervous by his presence, and so he napped on edge of camp, never intruding on the dens, never trying to fit in more than was accepted at first look. No point in fighting to be recognized, to be accepted. He would settle for not being murdered in his sleep, so that's all he really needed. But today he was napping in camp, having been up too late during the night (dreams of another husky voice and small hours spent with another, conversations in whispers, joy warm and present throughout it all) and an early morning patrol sending the coyote to an early nap. And now? He was having a puppy dream -- the kind that kicked and twitched and had tiny whimpers and mutters in his sleep regarding whatever weird visions he saw. Despite his size it was... adorable. Dopey and cute, with little puppy sounds and leg twitches making it seem like he was running around in his sleep. Maybe he was chasing rabbit in his sleep?