Planetfurry BBS

[Howellfan]

Title of the post pretty much says it all. Comments and constructive criticism welcome(especially from anybody with experience rellative to parts of this scenario that can give me some details to fill in some of the hopefully non-egregious hand-wavium in some parts! )

Don't have much so far, but here goes:


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



A Dog's Life



"Is that what you truly want, Wolf?"

The Wolf-like all Wise Wolves larger than it's 'common' cousin-nods once, eyes never breaking with hers'.

Rebecca watches his eyes, his face; there's no hesitation, no doubt.

Her blue eyes rest for a moment on the leather collar about his neck.

Rising from her crouch, she walks swiftly across the room and turns back to him, their eyes locking-

"Show me."

-And waits....

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raised in a farming village at the frontier of settled lands-beyond them, nearly, 'till recent years-she'd been afflicted with wanderlust from childhood; she'd hear stories from hunters and trappers that came through, and one week in her seventeenth year-Gods knew how and much against her mother's wishes-talked one that took a liking to her into dragging her along. Gods, but he must've been mad, madder than she; twice the burden, and damn little to contribute on her end. And it HAD been rough for her, at first, but she'd adapted. And the compensations were worth it-what began as teenage wanderlust-among other things-became a hunger, images of those months etched and burned in her memory: her first glimpse from high in the teeth of the land spread out beneath them, vast and open, her village from even there lost far beyond the distant horizon and the occasional buiding or trace of habitation swallowed up against the backdrop of the World; her first encounter with Wise-and his constant teasings about it; the nights....They planned, at her request, to marry next time they went through her village.

Plans change...

He'd taken sick that winter as they headed to her village and died, hand in hers, two days out. She spent three days finishing the trip. Alone.

She hadn't spoken of those ten transformative months since.

Mother had been furious when she'd returned; the moreso when it became clear she planned more treks into the wild...and wouldn't hear otherwise. It wasn't just her defiance-and concern for her safety-that had angered Mother; Rebecca's father died in her childhood, and her two brothers and a sister(all older)notwithstanding, every extra hand was a help around the farm. But if you traveled light and knew your trade-and truth be told luck was with you, often as not-there was money in trapping-and the savings she brought with her when she came through led to-well, call it acceptance of her choice, though Mother still constantly asked during stints at home when she planned to 'settle in.'

Maybe someday.

Not soon; The Wilderness...to watch the Autumn sunrise crest the Dragon's Teeth like Creation's dawn, sillhouettes against a burning sky; to walk the hidden trails carved by beast common and Wise, unmarked by humankind-to feel yourself first to walk the Earth, stranger to the world, it was in her-a longing, a thirst that broke no denial.

You lived at the boundaries, your boundaries. There was clarity in Necessity; your preconceptions meant nothing to Her.

Take, for instance, patronizing village attitudes toward Wisebeast.

Trappers learned better; It was their world they must most often travel through. It paid to be on good terms with the Wise, and it's hard to disrespect those you spend time and effort knowing. And having friends among the Wise could mean life or death.

Gods knew it saved her life.

She'd taken a risk, last trip, starting back late; game was better far side of the 'Teeth, especially late in the autumn season. Still, barring disaster she'd been well on pace to make the pass with time to spare...

Yeah... ' barring disaster...'

Her horse spooked, sending her flying in it's panic and she'd snapped an ankle. She hadn't seen it since.

Losing the horse was bad.

Losing an ankle...that was fatal.

She'd wrapped up, holed up, gotten wood for a fire and one burning-ten times the work and hurting like hells, but she'd managed; and she did have a bow and good practice in it's use-problem was, without ankle or horse it was useless.

But it was risky-to put it mildly-to try the mountains in winter with a horse; on foot, one bad one at that...it would be suicide. She was out of options-

-no, not every option; hoping she guessed right, she'd raised a cry for aid.

A cry carried on a howl to send a shiver through the folks back home.

And Gods-be-praised she'd been right-the pack crying in the night was Wolf, not cousin.

They had her grattitude. Really, they did; Wise respected Wise(human included)as unlawfull prey, but in the lean season why divert time and resource from real obligations? Fortune smiled on her that night. Of course that was exactly why you took pains to ensure your snares fooled only cousin, never Wise; why you made gifts of your catch after skinning (or the guts when hunting); why you offered medical aid when the situation warranted. She'd known the pack that saved her.

Including Grey....

They had her grattitude, yes-

-but Gods, what misery!

She didn't think she fell sick during those days and nights of endless waiting, but cold, hunger, and sheer exhaustion conspired to cloud her memory.

No wood, no fire for food or warmth. Confined to the Wolf-den, innactive save to answer Nature's call(her fortune for a thrice-damned pair of crutches, instead of what she must do with). Weeks and months of half waking from half-slumber to cold, to stiffness and pain, to hunger dulled but never quelled by water, blood, and pap(Ahhhhhhh Necessity....).

Sometimes waking to warmth, a presence(the same?)beneath her soft and comforting, barely noted as she slipped again beneath the waves...

...to sleep, sleep to wake again, wake to the hunger and the cold and the stiffness and exhaustion and the waiting waiting waiting through the long dead months for the coming of Spring.

Overjoyed at it's arrival. Elated just to be outside the den under a pleasant sky; Walking...weak and unsteady at first, but oh to walk freely, skin bare to the wind and stretch her legs; To find a stream and rinse away months of grime, sweat and blood

And oh, how she relished her first taste of solid meat, juicy and whole, cooked over open fire!

Well, she did still have her flint when spring returned at last; there was that at least....

It was during her first days after finally leaving the den behind for good that she first had cause to note the behaviour of a certain grey-eyed member of the pack that helped her. Not wishing to try the mountains while still weakened from her ordeal, she'd made camp in a cave a short distance from the den. Shelter from the rain and a place to hold the warmth of a fire; it was enough. He would come to her-sometimes with part of a kill, sometimes just himself-and remain with her throughout the day, just following alongside her as she went about setting traps, fishing, or whatever else she needs do during the day, and often staying after nightfall, sometimes for hours, curled by the fire, head at her feet and looking for all the world like a much-overgrown husky, eyes watching her; remaining into the night untill the cry at last went up to call the pack together for the hunt.

Strange indeed for a Wolf-they were Wise that usually kept to their own.Was he on the outs with the pack? A losing challenger for leadership who found her company easier than constant reminders of his defeat? Certainly didn't carry himself like he'd been thumped, but as she thought on it...

...his demeanor around her; Others might not have noted anything peculiar, but to eyes familiar with his kind-his gait and carriage, his body language-the more time they spent together, the more it reminded her...Well, sometimes-by the fire in the evenings, say-she couldn't help thinking of Snow, a husky her family owned when she was a child, and have a guilty chuckle over thoughts respect for his kind would never let her voice aloud, even in jest...

...but was there a strange current beneath such musings, unnacknowledged and gone with the thoughts themselves?

Indeed, such comparrisons set in her a vague and unconcious unease at his company, though she enjoyed, enjoyed greatly their time together and fealt a growing attachment. Certainly, she was glad enough for the companionship and easy meat while she rested and built her strength for the trek through the mountains; though less perhaps-she'd thought with some bemusement-than had he been able to converse in language she could discern and learn, insteaed of making do for his part with nodding and shaking his head.

(On the other hand, Wise seemed to learn to understand human tongues readily enough; such as she encountered usually had some understanding of her's, at least-due perhaps to frequent contact with trappers and hunters; Wise, after all, also bennefitted from familiarity and communitcation with humankind-or at least that breed that made a habit of crossing the teeth and entering their lands).

So the weeks had passed, Spring giving way to Summer, untill at last she fealt herself in good enough condition for the journey back through the 'Teeth-good enough, that is, to carry in addition to herself the shelter(made from hide),a week's rations of smoked meat, and bow and arrows on her back over several day's hard climb with energy to spare at the end-and again the wolf suprised, trotting up to her and falling in beside the first day out. So he planned to come with her; that was a surprise!(He knew where she was going; she'd told him-with a sense of regret whse strength surprised her-when last he visited.) All the better he obviously came fresh from a kill-she'd packed for one, and the first stretch through the pass on foot was three days of nothing but rock-at a hard press.

Well well; seemed she wasn't the only to regret parting.

And still a label for what about his behaviuour seemed
so...odd eluded her.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


S'all I have written so far.

And for those of you who are wondering if this story is going where you think it's going;this story will stay completely PG, but yes, it is coming at the relationship from that angle. Really, it was Dean Koontz' 'Watchers',( HIGHLY recommended if you haven't read it ), specifically the scene where he gives the dog it's collar, that triggered me to start on this story, making me think about just what kind of dynamic in such a relationship readers take in stride and for granted because one equally intelligent and sapient member in the relationship happens to be a furry quadraped, and wouldn't it be interesting to take advantage of the freedom provided by the fantasy and anthro genres to explore that idea in an all-ages, mass-market friendly context. Some readers will key in on 'it' right away, others will miss it completely and just enjoy it(hopefully!)as a bit of somewhat cute anthro fantasy.

Okay, done rambling. Please tell this newbie if this isn't the right forrum for this or something. Otherwise;Comments? Suggestions?
(Be kind-it's my first stab at writing!)

[Teric]

This is certainly a good place to put up works in progress for others to read and critique.

Your sense of imagery and interaction are very good, Howellfan. You painted a clear picture of her situation, her pains, and the long months of suffering she endured as her ankle healed. I felt myself very interested to see what would become of her.

It took me a while to figure out what you meant by 'Wise', but I eventually came to understand that you refer to those animals who have developed a degree of intelligence similar to that of mankind. This is an angle I've not seen anyone approach before. These Wise appear to act, associate, and communicate similar to their cousins of lesser intelligence, but they reason as well as a human. I'm intrigued, to say the least.

Your writing style seems to be a lot of 'stream of consciousness'; many of your sentences are long and contain multiple complete ideas. While I was able to understand what you were trying to say, I think that some readers might be confused when trying to read this. I had to go over some areas a second time before I understood what you meant.

I suggest you break up some of your longer sentences into multiple sentences, to help make your meanings more clear and to give more structure to your writing.

On another note, you seem to use the dash '-' a lot when you move from one idea to the next. I don't claim to be an expert in this area (I'll leave the expertise to Mike Regan), but from what I have seen, experienced authors use the dash in this manner very rarely.

That's all for now. I can see that this Wise has taken a liking to her, and how she has developed some feelings for him as well. I'm interested to see where this goes.

[Howellfan]

Thanks for the feedback, Teric!

The 'Wise'/'cousin' distinction is a bit of shameless 'borrowing' on my part;if you like the concept I'd highly recommend Jane Lindskold's Wolf series, beginning with 'Through Wolf's Eyes'. MIGHT skip books 2 and 3, or at least 3;writing, character focus, and overall 'furriness' and story arc for the series really take off from book 4 on.(my 2 cents. )

Yeah, that's seems to be the hardest thing for me, knowing when to break up my sentences. Maybe too muck C.S. Lewis coming through. )

Thanks for the encouragement, too. It means a lot!

[Syrius]

Its = Possesive. "Its wise cousin" "Its weight was unbelievably light". Just like "His" and "Her".

It's = Contraction of "It is". "It's late now. Go to sleep."

[Howellfan]

I've read that before. If that does indeed prove to be tha correct spelling of the possessive I'll make the switch, but it's hard to get comfortable with a possessive without an apostrophe!

Another minor thing that bugs me about the story so far;I keep looking but can't find a space where it feels 'right' to take time to describe how the woman looks! This being a short story(Jeez, I hope so anyway;this tale has grown in the telling... ) I refuse to just bring the narrative to a crashing halt just for the sake of description. This may be something perfectly okay for a short story, and I don't find anywhere 'right' to fit in a description so be it, but still....

[Howellfan]

Ooookay, gone back over the section posted above and done some editing for sentence structure, clarity and a few other things(a LOT of retouching/rewriting on the latter parts, which I hadn't given as much attention to)and I'm ready to call it final-for now, at least. Even before I posted, I'd probably been over and retouched it a thousand times and enough's enough;at some point I have to push on an write the rest of the danged story, after all! So unless somebody spots something obvious or makes a convincing argument to change something back, consider the following a final first draft of the section posted above;nothing new(well, maybe a teensy bit at the very end), just a(hopefully) better-polished version of what I posted above.

I think this is how I'll do it for the rest of the story-refine a section to a fine polish before posting, so the only new material is in the sections I post, then starting a new thread when I'm ready post the story in its entirety.

So here she is-whaddya think?

______________________________________________________________


A Dog's Life



"Is this what you truly want, Wolf?"

The Wolf-like all Wise Wolves larger than it's 'common' cousin-nods once, eyes never breaking with hers'.

Rebecca watches his eyes, his face; there's no hesitation, no doubt.

Her blue eyes rest for a moment on the leather collar about his neck.

Rising from her crouch, she walks swiftly across the room and turns back to him, their eyes locking-

"Show me."

-And waits....

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raised in a farming village at the frontier of settled lands-beyond them, nearly, until recent years-she'd been afflicted with wanderlust from childhood; she'd hear stories from hunters and trappers that came through, and one week in her seventeenth year-Gods knew how and much against her mother's wishes-talked one that took a liking to her into dragging her along. Gods, but he must have been mad, madder than she; twice the burden, and damn little to contribute on her end. And it HAD been rough for her, at first. But she'd adapted...and the compensations had been well worth it-what began as teenage wanderlust(among other things)had become a hunger, images of those months etched and burned into memory: her first glimpse from high in the 'Teeth of the land spread out beneath them, vast and open, her village lost somewhere far beyond the distant horizon and the occasional building or trace of habitation swallowed up against the backdrop of the World; her first encounter with Wise-and his constant teasing about it; the nights....They planned, at her request, to marry next time they went through her village.

Plans change.

He'd taken sick that winter as they headed to her village and died, hand in hers', two days out. She spent three days finishing the trip. Alone.

She hadn't spoken of those ten transformative months since.

Mother had been furious when she returned; the moreso when it became clear she planned more treks into the wild...and wouldn't hear otherwise. It wasn't just her defiance-and concern for her safety-that had angered Mother; Rebecca's father died in her childhood, and two brothers and a sister(all older)notwithstanding, every extra hand was a help around the farm. But if you traveled light and knew your trade-and truth be told luck was with you, often as not-there was money in trapping; the savings she brought with her when she came through led to-well, call it acceptance of her choice, though Mother still constantly asked during stints at home when she planned to 'settle in.'

Maybe someday.

Not soon; The Wilderness...to watch the Autumn sunrise crest the Dragon's Teeth like Creation's dawn, silhouettes against a burning sky; to walk the hidden trails carved by beast common and Wise, unmarked by humankind-to feel yourself first to walk the Earth, stranger to the world; It was in her-a longing, a thirst that broke no denial.

You lived at the boundaries, your boundaries. There was clarity in Necessity; your preconceptions meant nothing to Her.

Take, for instance, patronizing village attitudes toward Wisebeast.

Trappers learned better; It was their world they must often travel through. It paid to be on good terms with the Wise, and it's hard to disrespect those you spend time and effort knowing. And far side of the 'Teeth, having friends among the Wise could save your life.

Gods knew it saved her ass.

She'd taken a risk, last trip, starting back late; game was better far side of the 'Teeth, especially late in the autumn season. Still, barring disaster she'd been well on pace to make the pass with time to spare....

Yeah... ' barring disaster....'

Her horse spooked, sending her flying in it's panic and she'd snapped an ankle. She hadn't seen it since.

Losing the horse was bad.

Losing an ankle...that was fatal.

She'd holed up, gotten wood for a fire and one burning-ten times the work and hurting like hells, but she managed-and she did have a bow and good practice in it's use;problem was, without ankle or horse it was useless.

But it was risky-to put it mildly-to try the mountains in winter with a horse; on foot, and half-crippled at that...it would be suicide. She was out of options-

-no, not every option; hoping she guessed right, she'd raised a cry for aid.

A cry carried on a howl to send a shiver through the folks back home.

And Gods-be-praised she'd been right-the pack crying in the night was Wolf, not cousin.

They had her gratitude. Really, they did; Wise respected Wise(human included)as unlawful prey, but in the lean season why divert time and resource from real obligations? Fortune smiled on her that night. Of course that was exactly why you took pains to ensure your snares fooled only cousin, never Wise; why you made gifts of your catch after skinning (or the guts when hunting); why you offered medical aid when the situation warranted. She'd known the pack that saved her.

Including Gray....

They had her gratitude, yes-

-but Gods, what misery!

She didn't think she fell sick during those nights and days of endless waiting, but she couldn't be sure of it.

No wood, no fire for food or warmth. Confined to the Wolf-den, inactive save to answer Nature's call(her fortune for a thrice-damned pair of crutches, instead of what she must do with). Weeks and months of half waking from half-slumber to cold, to pain, to hunger dulled but never quelled by snow-melt, blood and pap(Ahhhhhhh Necessity....).

Sometimes waking to warmth, a presence(the same?)beneath her soft and comforting, barely noted as she slips again beneath the waves...

...to sleep, to wake again to the hunger and cold, to stiffness and exhaustion, to the waiting waiting waiting through the long dead months for the coming of Spring.

Overjoyed at its arrival. Elated just to be outside the den beneath a pleasant sky. Walking...weak and unsteady at first, but oh to walk freely, skin bare to the wind and stretch her legs; to find a stream and rinse away the months of grime, sweat and blood.

And oh, how she relished her first taste of solid meat, juicy and whole, cooked over open fire!

Well, she did still have her flint when spring returned at last; there was that, at least.

It was soon after that great and glorious day she at last departed the den for the final time she first had cause to note the behavior of a certain gray-eyed member of the pack. Not wishing to try the mountains in her still-weakened state, she had made camp in a cave a short walk from the den;shelter from the rain that held the fire's warmth, it was enough. He began coming to her there-sometimes with part of a kill, sometimes just himself-and remaining with her as she went about setting traps, snatching fish, or whatever else she need do during the day, often staying in the evening as she cooked and settled in for the night, curled by the fire, until the cry at last went up to call the pack together for the hunt.

Strange indeed for a Wolf; they tended to keep to their own. Pack politics? Challenged for Alpha and found her company more pleasant than constant reminders of his defeat, something like that? She hadn't asked of course. Certainly never carried himself like he'd been thumped. The more she considered though...

...his demeanor around her; Others might not have noted anything peculiar, but to eyes familiar with his kind-his gait and carriage, his body language-the more time they spent together, the more it reminded her...well, sometimes-by the fire in the evenings, say-she couldn't help thinking of Snow, a husky her family owned when she was a child, and have a guilty chuckle over thoughts respect for his kind would never let her voice aloud, even in jest...

...but was there a strange and sudden current beneath those musings, dismissed and gone again as quickly and the dismissal itself unnoted and forgotten?

What she grew quite aware of was her growing attachment, and the pleasure she took in his company;Certainly she was glad enough for companionship and easy meat while she recovered her strength for the trek through the 'Teeth; though less perhaps-she'd thought with some bemusement-than had he been able to converse in language she could discern and learn, instead of making do with nodding and shaking his head.

(On the other hand, Wise seemed to learn to understand human tongues readily enough; such as she encountered usually had some understanding of hers', at least-due perhaps to frequent contact with trappers and hunters; Wisebeast benefited also, after all, from contact between humankind and the other Wise-or at least that breed of human that made a habit of crossing the 'Teeth to enter their lands).

Still, in his company such musings at his odd behavior often set in her subconscious a certain vague unease.

So the weeks had passed, Spring giving way to Summer, until she felt strong enough for the journey at last-strong enough that is to carry in addition to herself some hide, the shelter(made from hide),a week's rations of smoked meat, and bow and arrows over several day's hard climb with energy to spare at the end;and again the Wolf surprised, trotting up to her and falling in beside the first day out. This was unexpected! He was leaving everything behind to come with her;he knew her destination lay east, that she wasn't heading back-she'd told him when he evening'd with her last, surprised at the degree of loss she felt at their parting.

Not the only one, it seemed.

How should she label that strange behavior of his?

Was that why she'd grown so attached?

HER attachment? What about him? Winged Folk excepted, Wise seldom ventured beyond the 'Teeth; why him?

Why her?


______________________________________________________________

P.S. Boldface and italics were always in the text;I just didn't realize when I first posted that when I cut and pasted I would need to redo it all!!! *rubs wrist*

P.S.S. The title is only provisional for now. [/b]

[Howellfan]

Next section of the story. Will come back later when I have more time to edit in italic and boldface(plus have a mild headache now). When I'm done with the story. what site is there that I could post it to. Somebody mentioned the 'Raccoon's Bookshelf'. How does that work exactly?

_______________________________________________________________

"Y'know furface, there's a reason Wise don't venture East of the 'Teeth."

The Wolf laying a few feet to her right turned his head from the hare's leg he was devouring, eyes catching the inconstant light of the fire as the last dregs of Sunset faded in the West.

"My kind...we're not all trappers. You think the other Wise never roamed in the East? Hells, some still do if you believe the rumors;never more than that though. They do a prime job keeping near to ground, can't imagine why...."

Stare

"Alright alright, don't gimme that look;If you wanna know, aside from stating the obvious my point is in a few weeks we'll be somewhere I can lighten my burden a little, preferrably in exchange for at least a horse"-

'ANY horse.' Rebecca flexed her shoulders;leather gave her skin some protection from the ropes, but rot did it chafe under them!

-"and with luck, lodging as well; and that could give us problems."

Gods, but was she ever GLAD to be other side of the 'Teeth! Every step upside had seemed to add another Stone to the weight on her back and shoulders, topside was cold even in Summer, the pass through the Narrows-nothing but rock without good camp, for three days on foot-was even *more* fun than usual...and in the higher altitudes her ankle throbbed. It always would, now; hidden scars were just as real. And just as permanent.

"I mean think about it; the sight of you would be enough to clear the market! Don't laugh" she grinned "and don't think-not that you would-that just telling everyone 'He's Wise, so no worries' would smooth things out. Like I said;we're not all trappers. People find a free-running cousin your size scary enough;now tell 'em when they see those big ole eyes of yours turned their way that 'someone's' watching behind all them teeth...Rot, inkeeper might take one look and decide he's full...for the month! Sure, yeah, I'm used to sleeping rough, but a warm room and soft bed do make a nice change from time to time, you know!"

She finished cutting the last leg from the hare and tossed it to the Wolf. It was already cooked;easier all-around that way, though it must try Gray Eyes' patience! 'Hah! Still worth the wait ain't it, furface!' *sniff sniff;deep breath* 'mmm mmmmm'

. "No sense being the center of attention and scaring people half to death in the process. Trust me;letting on you're Wise could be more trouble than it's worth." She popped a slice of meat in her mouth."Humans can be funny about other kind-hey, we're the species that came up with a special single name for all the "Wisebeast"; 'cept for us, naturally. Liver!" Switching the knife now burried in the hare's gut to her left hand, she pulled the liver with her right and tossed it to him.

'Would've shuddered at the thought of eating that once' she mused wryly as he caught it in the air and tore in. Hells, she still wouldn't eat it if she had any choice! blech

"Course letting them think you're common carries headaches of it's own. You'd definitely be stuck with me as long as we're in town, for starters, which thought doubtless tears you up inside" she brought another piece of meat to her mouth with the knife and grinned at his pained expression "and we'd be trying to pass you off as something other than wolf altogether. More we put people at their ease the better". Headshake "Now how in twelve hells you think we can give first impression that you're controllable, tame, and just another mutt." She rolled her eyes "And at every town we go through..." She groaned;maybe they could seperate and meet up other side of town, but you couldn't always plan ahead unless the strategy was 'in and out' at every stop, and even then, it'd be damned inconvenient....

"And how do we handle it when I stop at home?" That, more than any other question, she had put off considering.

"I mean, if the idea's that people don't feel like running first time they see you and me-uh, mostly you-walking toward them...rot, whatever we do, you'll still be one big, intimidating, dangerous-looking and very toothy canine!" She put her hand on her forehead. "Be a lot easier with a dog collar...."

She instantly wished the words back. 'Godsdamned farmgirl!'

She froze and looked at Gray'. He stood still, gaze fixed right back at her.

So much for hoping he hadn't heard...

At least he didn't look upset..

He nodded.

blink

"You're serious?

nod

"Come on, you can't be serious. Look, we're talkin' minor inconvenience here, annoyances, that's all." She chuckled. "It's more tryin' to make everyone comfortable around me and you-'kay, forget about me-than the other way around. I was bein' dramatic."Which doesn't mean what I said about my kind ain't still true" she said gesturing with the knife "so you can stop givin' me that look, too. But even letting on you're Wise, we're not gonna be doin' or stayin' anywhere long enough to need to worry 'bout any real knotheads. Rot, I'm embarassed' enough to think of walkin' around actin' like you're some, some oversized husky;you wanna-what? What's so funny?"

Rebecca stared at the Wolf, mouth gaping and huffing with laughter.

Sigh "Huh, you really wanna try this 'eh?"

Nod. The look in those eyes....

She looked up at the stars for a moment. "Fine, you really wanna do this, we'll do it."

Hells, she could just pretend it was decoration, ornament.

"At least there isn't a leash...."

She looked at him.

No "I mean, that would be ridiculous;and unnecessary. Right?"

No, he couldn't be serious...

"You are joking."

He wasn't joking.

She put her head in her lap, then looked again at the sky.

'Take me now....'

______________________________________________________________

'Sall for now. Hope you enjoyed it.

[Howellfan]

First real character dialogue and extended interaction that I've written(unless you count that first little bit of the story); How'd it work out? Did it read natural and a normal flow? Did it sound true to character-what we know of her so far anyway?

[Howellfan]

And finishing up this little scene in the story. Sweet mother, am I glad to have this part of it behind me;Pivotal, and trickiest scene in the whole dang story-shouldn't be had to figure out why. Took a sweet minute to figure out to make it work in a way that was natural and believable, and it didn't really start to gel until I started writing it, but I think I pulled it off pretty well!

By the way, boldface and italics-uncle already;too much of a pain in the but.(Is there any way to copy to the board without losing them?). Just edit them in where appropriate as you read!


________________________________________________________________

The Wolf was huffing. She glared. "You think it's funny?. Don't you feel bothered just in the least at the idea of going around tied and collared like some dumb beast? Maybe nobody'll know you're Wise-and many wouldn't care if they did-but we would. And if the wrong trapper catches on that my tamed and collared mutt is a collared Wise and is a bit impulsive, say, it could mean real trouble." ' 'Specially if they're Guild' she thought, the inlaid carving in the knife's handle glinting in the firelight; a circle trisected by lines that swooped back as they curved away from center, the three sections so outlined like teardrops stretched and bent, each curving 'round the one behind it and the flat bottom and straight sides of the teardrops and circle difining the rim laid in silver plait.

She stood to stretch her legs. "That should bother you, furface;'Many wouldn't care if they DID know.' For too damn many of my kind, the Wise're nothin' more'n a rotted cousin with a few more tricks and a bit o' extra wits thrown in. Cute. Amusin' diversion. Not like they're human, though. Not like they're persons, deservin' a person's respect." Her voice began to rise; she didn't notice. "I mean, my own damn family's that way;I jus' don't mention the subject when I visit now. Oh, they listen ever so politely when you explain, but they truly don't, they won't understand, same as half the damn human race-I'm feelin' generous-and it drives you absolutely mad knowin' there's nothin' for it but grit your teeth an' shut it an' move on because of what JACKASSES we are, and there's nothin' helpin' it but keep your peace and promise yourself you will never, NEVER be 'that' way." She turned back to him "So your pardon, Wolf, if I'm less than amused when one of those Wise seems eager to go around town led and collared like a GODSDAMNED STREETMUTT!"

She couldn't have been five Hands from his face, almost directly above him;He was laying, front paws resting on a leg he was-had been worrying. He wasn't trotting away, wasn't yawning and ignoring her or even-though he never had-growling, any of which would have been normal;Wasn't cowering either, which would've been...disquieting, at least. His head was raised and turned, throat exposed and the corner of one eye looking up at her and what was she to do with that exactly?

S--t

She fealt her pulse racing, her quickened breaths. Damn;Where'd THAT come from? She conciously relaxed the hand gripping her knife;it had clenched hard enough to tremble. Past year must've frayed her more than she realized.

She shook her head; 'And the Wolf's still crazy....'

She turned and walked back to the still-unfinished hare. "Aaaah, I'm sorry, Gray Eyes. You're right; 'bout the collar 'tleast" she knelt to cut a chunk of intestine for him "hate so say , but it probably is the simplest way all a-" She stopped short as she turned back around;he'd followed her and stood a few feet behind, watching. She knelt, and without asking why twisted and cut a smaller piece of intestine, took the knife in the other hand holding the remainder and held the piece out to him. He took it gently from her and tossed it back;swallowed-and nosed her palm;gave a single lick.

'Whaaaaa....?'

And just where'n twelve hells had _THAT_ come from?!

Maybe it was the salt....

Yeeeaaaah. Why'd she offer to him just that way, anyhow?

And suddenly she felt herself standing, tipping at the edge of a cliff, river far below;pushing off to leap into the air, to freefall...

Again her heart beat a faster time.

She reached out, scratched between his ears; he didn't pull away. He pushed into, eyes slitting. She moved across his head, down the back of the neck to his shoulders;cupped his chin with her left hand-knife and food forgotten-and locking eyes set the tip of her right index on his nose.

"You, are a puzzle, y'know that Gray Eyes?"

It would be interesting when they reached town.

______________________________________________________________