Post by juniper on Mar 19, 2021 15:56:41 GMT -5
Did you know that deer tracks have a very distinctive shape? No? Neither did I.
Riley did. Riley knew. The deer tracks are slightly different to an elk— But elks don’t live here.
Well, not to their knowledge that is— Who knows what could be lurking out in these woods... Bears, Sheep, Redcaps, or *lupines.*
They shudder, the rain coming down in a calming melodic like way, hitting off the floor and pooling into little puddles. The trees did help to cover some of the rain coming down, but didn’t stop all of it— so of course, Riley got wet.
Riley didn’t like water much— Rain, they could tolerate. Rivers, they could tolerate. Bodies of that were of the only intention to scrape mud from skin— not so much.
Speaking of mud and dirt— it clings to them in a way that mud tends to do— like a barnacle to the hull of a ship, marring what was pale skin; abnormally pale skin actually. It helped when Riley was tracking animals, made their little body not stand out as much against the viridian Forest.
Dirt also helped keep them.. Hm, what’s the word— ah, that it.
Protected. It kept them protected against the elements.
Riley liked mud. Dirt too. They liked the colour— and the smell, and the versatile usefulness.
But again, I am going off topic. The deer tracks. Deer tracks themselves are two shoehorn kind of shapes, opposing each other in slim and sleek style. Riley had followed them for a while, but their concerns were growing.
For the night was starting to draw to a unstoppable close, and these tracks were starting to grow old. The rain still fell.
Thunder rolls over— Perhaps the gangrel didn’t notice, not even a flinch.. maybe too concentrated with her task at hand. The flash after caught their attention though, pulling their head up to squint at the night sky. A lump catches in their throat, and then they push on, soon coming to a stop
Riley kneels down once something catches their attention— Drops of dried blood was congealed on the side of a log, threatening to be washed away by the impending water—. Riley frowns.
Their mind is torn— something, someone had been hurt here. The deer tracks seems to be all askew here, and lead off somewhere west. The Gangrel stands up again, noticing shadows shift as the lightning struck again overhead— leaning more on her peripheral vision in cases like this, tilting their head.
They feel.. uneasy, standing up again, a very tiny weight shifting in their pocket as they do this— a tiny whiskered face poking out, nose sniffing the air.
A few moments of debating with themselves, following the tracks again, that were slightly different— as if the animal was scrambling to get away from something. There’s more blood beside the tracks, spattering messily and the intensity and amount increases further in.
Another roll of thunder vibrates. Another flash of lightning lights up the sky. That’s when they see it.
Perhaps they might have heard it before this point— But the rainfall, and the thunder above didn’t help them, along with their already existing problems with their right ear.
But no. They *see it first.*
The sound doesn’t register until a few moments later. The form of a weakly flailing stag was on the ground— and an arrow embedded in its flank, once beautiful, dusky coloured coat stained red with the heavy blood loss that this animal had sustained.
It spots them and let’s out a weak groan that tugs at the Gangrel, whom could feel their voice cracking slightly, so they do not speak.
There’s a soft noise of them slowly approaching trying not to startle the dying animal.
*Hey, Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay. You are gonna be okay.*
It comes out of them instinctively, kneeling beside it, but out of the way where a flailing hoof can connect.
The animal lets out another sad nose, and the Gangrel lets their eyes wander over the deeply embedded arrow and also the area around the stag. The area had been heavily disturbed, but some of these marks and scrapes were older then the others.
This stag had been here for a couple of days, they realise.
The second thing they realise is the fact that no hunters had come to claim this animal— as that what would have been whom had shot the arrow at first.
What kind of sick person would injure such a beautiful creature and just leave it to suffer? It tugs at her and a growl comes out of her throat.
The beast wanted out. Riley needed to keep it in in this situation. It claws at her with malice and there’s another growl, hands shaking as they move out to rest on the stags flank— feeling the warmth under her dead hands.
*It’s okay. You can rest now.*
There’s a mutter, placing her little ragtag bag on the ground next to her, and pulling out some rags and a bottle of cleanish water.
*It’s gonna be okay*
They’re not sure if it’ll work— Pulling out the arrow could cause this to be a lot worse then leaving it in.
But there was no other choice. Riley couldn’t leave the arrow inside this magnetic animal, even as she looks at it— the sickly sweet smell of infection hit her nostrils, and they flare.
Riley gags.
There’s a few moments and the gangrel positions themself a little closer, wrapping her hand around the shaft of the arrow body. It’s too deep in for them to even to snap the shaft off.
They had to pull it out directly.
*Please don’t struggle.* They begged, tears welling in their eyes at this act, and they has to blink them away to see what they are doing, steadying her other hand beside the injury and taking a moment to prepare herself.
The stag was too exhausted to do much then to lay there, shallowly breathing.
Riley pulls up with the hand, and the noise that came out was unable to be ignore by even stubborn ears like the gangrels. It’s a mix of a tear, the pained bellow of the stag and the thick blood pouring out.
The stench is overwhelming and Riley grabs the waterskin and pours the contents on the wound.
*I’m so sorry.*
Their other hand grabbing the rags and trying to clean and stem the bleeding wound the best they can.
But it bleeds. It bleeds and bleeds and it covered the gangrels hands and clothes, who was only trying to help.
They are running out of time— Running out of life, and running out of *vitae.*
Deep down, they know. They know that there’s no way it’s gonna survive. It’s breathing was falling way too short and shallow for it to be positive.
*Come on, Goddamn it!*
Hissing, just watching the blood pour despite their best efforts, and her own blood mixes in with it— from the tears.
They tried, right?
It’s not moving, barely breathing at this point and Riley shook their head. They had done all they could do, and all they could do now is to ease its suffering and keep it company. Their other hand coming to pull out a dagger from an inner pocket— a flash of lightning appearing in its surface.
*I am sorry little one, I am so sorry this has happened to you.*
The stag seemed to lock eye-contact with them at this moment as if to say it understood.
*May you go back to the earth and peacefully rest.*
Riley approaches the stag, it’s majestic horns worn and snapped with all of the thrashing that had happened— kneeling down and tilting its head up.
*May god claim and welcome you.*
Pressing the blade to its throat and in a swift movement, slashes it against the flesh quickly to end the suffering. To end the pain. The head falls limp in their hand, the eyes rolling back but not closing. Riley watches the light die from the iris, suppressing a sob.
They hated this.
This majestic beast was dead in front of her. It had died for *nothing.*
Nothing.
The rain still falls.
Riley did. Riley knew. The deer tracks are slightly different to an elk— But elks don’t live here.
Well, not to their knowledge that is— Who knows what could be lurking out in these woods... Bears, Sheep, Redcaps, or *lupines.*
They shudder, the rain coming down in a calming melodic like way, hitting off the floor and pooling into little puddles. The trees did help to cover some of the rain coming down, but didn’t stop all of it— so of course, Riley got wet.
Riley didn’t like water much— Rain, they could tolerate. Rivers, they could tolerate. Bodies of that were of the only intention to scrape mud from skin— not so much.
Speaking of mud and dirt— it clings to them in a way that mud tends to do— like a barnacle to the hull of a ship, marring what was pale skin; abnormally pale skin actually. It helped when Riley was tracking animals, made their little body not stand out as much against the viridian Forest.
Dirt also helped keep them.. Hm, what’s the word— ah, that it.
Protected. It kept them protected against the elements.
Riley liked mud. Dirt too. They liked the colour— and the smell, and the versatile usefulness.
But again, I am going off topic. The deer tracks. Deer tracks themselves are two shoehorn kind of shapes, opposing each other in slim and sleek style. Riley had followed them for a while, but their concerns were growing.
For the night was starting to draw to a unstoppable close, and these tracks were starting to grow old. The rain still fell.
Thunder rolls over— Perhaps the gangrel didn’t notice, not even a flinch.. maybe too concentrated with her task at hand. The flash after caught their attention though, pulling their head up to squint at the night sky. A lump catches in their throat, and then they push on, soon coming to a stop
Riley kneels down once something catches their attention— Drops of dried blood was congealed on the side of a log, threatening to be washed away by the impending water—. Riley frowns.
Their mind is torn— something, someone had been hurt here. The deer tracks seems to be all askew here, and lead off somewhere west. The Gangrel stands up again, noticing shadows shift as the lightning struck again overhead— leaning more on her peripheral vision in cases like this, tilting their head.
They feel.. uneasy, standing up again, a very tiny weight shifting in their pocket as they do this— a tiny whiskered face poking out, nose sniffing the air.
A few moments of debating with themselves, following the tracks again, that were slightly different— as if the animal was scrambling to get away from something. There’s more blood beside the tracks, spattering messily and the intensity and amount increases further in.
Another roll of thunder vibrates. Another flash of lightning lights up the sky. That’s when they see it.
Perhaps they might have heard it before this point— But the rainfall, and the thunder above didn’t help them, along with their already existing problems with their right ear.
But no. They *see it first.*
The sound doesn’t register until a few moments later. The form of a weakly flailing stag was on the ground— and an arrow embedded in its flank, once beautiful, dusky coloured coat stained red with the heavy blood loss that this animal had sustained.
It spots them and let’s out a weak groan that tugs at the Gangrel, whom could feel their voice cracking slightly, so they do not speak.
There’s a soft noise of them slowly approaching trying not to startle the dying animal.
*Hey, Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay. You are gonna be okay.*
It comes out of them instinctively, kneeling beside it, but out of the way where a flailing hoof can connect.
The animal lets out another sad nose, and the Gangrel lets their eyes wander over the deeply embedded arrow and also the area around the stag. The area had been heavily disturbed, but some of these marks and scrapes were older then the others.
This stag had been here for a couple of days, they realise.
The second thing they realise is the fact that no hunters had come to claim this animal— as that what would have been whom had shot the arrow at first.
What kind of sick person would injure such a beautiful creature and just leave it to suffer? It tugs at her and a growl comes out of her throat.
The beast wanted out. Riley needed to keep it in in this situation. It claws at her with malice and there’s another growl, hands shaking as they move out to rest on the stags flank— feeling the warmth under her dead hands.
*It’s okay. You can rest now.*
There’s a mutter, placing her little ragtag bag on the ground next to her, and pulling out some rags and a bottle of cleanish water.
*It’s gonna be okay*
They’re not sure if it’ll work— Pulling out the arrow could cause this to be a lot worse then leaving it in.
But there was no other choice. Riley couldn’t leave the arrow inside this magnetic animal, even as she looks at it— the sickly sweet smell of infection hit her nostrils, and they flare.
Riley gags.
There’s a few moments and the gangrel positions themself a little closer, wrapping her hand around the shaft of the arrow body. It’s too deep in for them to even to snap the shaft off.
They had to pull it out directly.
*Please don’t struggle.* They begged, tears welling in their eyes at this act, and they has to blink them away to see what they are doing, steadying her other hand beside the injury and taking a moment to prepare herself.
The stag was too exhausted to do much then to lay there, shallowly breathing.
Riley pulls up with the hand, and the noise that came out was unable to be ignore by even stubborn ears like the gangrels. It’s a mix of a tear, the pained bellow of the stag and the thick blood pouring out.
The stench is overwhelming and Riley grabs the waterskin and pours the contents on the wound.
*I’m so sorry.*
Their other hand grabbing the rags and trying to clean and stem the bleeding wound the best they can.
But it bleeds. It bleeds and bleeds and it covered the gangrels hands and clothes, who was only trying to help.
They are running out of time— Running out of life, and running out of *vitae.*
Deep down, they know. They know that there’s no way it’s gonna survive. It’s breathing was falling way too short and shallow for it to be positive.
*Come on, Goddamn it!*
Hissing, just watching the blood pour despite their best efforts, and her own blood mixes in with it— from the tears.
They tried, right?
It’s not moving, barely breathing at this point and Riley shook their head. They had done all they could do, and all they could do now is to ease its suffering and keep it company. Their other hand coming to pull out a dagger from an inner pocket— a flash of lightning appearing in its surface.
*I am sorry little one, I am so sorry this has happened to you.*
The stag seemed to lock eye-contact with them at this moment as if to say it understood.
*May you go back to the earth and peacefully rest.*
Riley approaches the stag, it’s majestic horns worn and snapped with all of the thrashing that had happened— kneeling down and tilting its head up.
*May god claim and welcome you.*
Pressing the blade to its throat and in a swift movement, slashes it against the flesh quickly to end the suffering. To end the pain. The head falls limp in their hand, the eyes rolling back but not closing. Riley watches the light die from the iris, suppressing a sob.
They hated this.
This majestic beast was dead in front of her. It had died for *nothing.*
Nothing.
The rain still falls.