Post by abyss on Jun 18, 2008 18:24:16 GMT -5
Characters involved:
Chesmu, male cougar
Yuma, male juve. cougar
Chesmu warns his son about the sighting of Man and tells him a story about the last time the tribe faced difficult odds.
Stone Formations
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After moving out of the forest a bit, though still surrounded by trees, a clearing comes into view. Rocks jut from the ground in no apparent pattern, at least not easily discernible from the ground. The rocks seem to form an elliptical shape, sort of like an egg, an oval amongst the grasses growing here. While the inner oval appears to have rocks that have been weathered down to about 3 feet tall, the outer oval's rocks are taller yet, about 6 feet tall, though they, too, have signs of weathering as much as the inner oval has. What has made the outer rocks survive better than the others? It appears they are the same types of rock, the same age, and the same amount of weathering, but they are just bigger than the others. This is something that could be pondered for days, if not longer. The overall feel of the place is a feeling of sacredness, or something akin to a sprituality that one feels when confronted with the unkown: a bit scary, a bit odd, but very intriguing.
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As long as the weather is fair, the son of the Chief can be found here almost every afternoon, spending the last few hours before dusk lying on the stones. Yuma is not a lazy cougar by nature, but it is now past the middle of spring, and the warmth of the afternoon discourages needless activity. His eyes are closed, but he is not quite asleep, swiveling an ear or swishing his tail now and then. In other parts of the forest, fear has begun to spread like wildfire, but for now this place is still and peaceful.
It hasn't been so calm around the territory, as far as Chesmu is concerned. Almost had a Man step right onto the territory! And now the Chieftain has a nasty wound in his shoulder from those thunder sticks they carry. He's grateful its not a serious wound. But, it turns out, it is quite painful. He approaches the rocks he likes to roost on after a long border patrol. But he's not sure he could relax now. Now that humans seem to be back int he mountains.
The sound of approaching paws causes Yuma to twitch his ears, his eyes sliding open to look toward its source. He does not bother to lift his head until he notices that the red on his father's shoulder is not a fresh marking, but an ugly-looking wound of some sort. With a blink, the younger cougar sits up, peering down at Chesmu with surprise and concern. "Owch, wow -- how'd you get that?"
"A Man hurt me with a thunder stick." Chesmu says, albeit he's not sure exactly how the darn things are able to hurt so much. He looks at the wound. "Yuma... I need you to do me large favor." Chesmu looks at his son in the eyes. "I need you and your sisters to stay in the heart of the territory, near as many cougaresses as you can. Can you do that?"
"A Man?" Yuma clearly did not expect that. A fight with a wolf or a bear could have caused such an injury, or even the sharp tines of a buck's antlers, but... "I didn't think there were any around here." He hops down from his stony perch and moves closer to his father, but when he examines the wound, he knows it could not have been caused by any animal. It even /smells/ different. "Okay. I will," he promises, and of course, he'll make sure his sisters do the same. "Are they... here? In /our/ territory?"
Chesmu is sure they aren't, he'd smell them. But one almost came in. "No. But the one that attacked me almost walked into our territory." Chesmu says. "If he had managed to do so, my son, he may have done more than just hurt me and Shadowfrisk." Certainly, the man wouldn't have killed his cubs! Would they be that destructive? Not even most predators would be that daring to walk into a tribal territory to attack cubs!
Yuma frowns. Concern is not a familiar emotion for the young male, who has known very little of fear in the course of his short life. He does not feel fear for himself, not yet, but he is already starting to worry about his sisters. "That's... not good. Do you think he'll come back?"
"The one who did this was killed. But oftentimes, where there is one Man..." Chesmu says, then lets the sentence drift off. Point made. Where there's one Man, there are often a hundred more. This worries Chesmu. They left the body of the man out there!
Yuma looks relieved to hear that the Man is no longer a threat, but Chesmu's words leave him feeling unsettled. There are many able-bodied cougaresses in their tribe, however, and he does not doubt their ability to protect him -- or Chesmu's, for that matter. His attention returns to his father's wound, his recently-changed green-gold eyes looking it over carefully. "Can Grandmother Paoro heal that?" He knows that healing is one of the Shamaness' many skills, but he has never seen a wound that actually needed tending.
Chesmu looks over at the wound. "I'm sure she can. Since before you were even born, Paoro never ceases to amaze me with her talent and consideration." Chesmu says, then licks the wound. It stings, and he stops after a short time. "Since before I was a chieftain, when I met her, she considered the health and safety of even prey when the Disease hit."
Yuma nods, reassured. He sinks back on his haunches and curls his tail over his paws, his eyes lingering on the injury for another moment before meeting Chesmu's. The Disease his father referred to swept through these lands before Yuma was born, but the juvenile has been told the tales often enough. "She saved everyone, didn't she?"
"Yes. In a way, she did. But... and she will tell you this, Yuma... she could not do it alone. She was the Matron at the time, and the disease had caused Ahiga, your grandfather, my predecessor, the Chieftain at the time, to leave. She, too, was afflicted by the disease. It was when I came to her with a ram and a duck that she decided we should do something about the problem. We journeyed far into the desert to the south in search of the cure. I was one of the few who was healthy in the group. When we found the cure, it was like finding joy. We continued the truce until we returned to the mountains and went our seperate ways... except I had stayed in the desert."
The young male may have heard the stories, but he when he did, he always imagined Paoro the way she is now; as the Shamaness, the dignified elder. He knew that his grandmother had been the Matron before Ayashe, his mother, but this is the first time he becomes aware, in an almost adult way, of the passage of time. Time changes things -- even Yuma, who has grown a lot in six months. The juvenile splays his ears at these thoughts, then shakes his head, curiosity drawing his attention back to Chesmu. "You stayed in the desert? Why?"
Chesmu lies on his side and continues his story. "I had learned a lot from Paoro in that time. I found myself wanting to stop my wandering lifestyle of no commitment. I tried to make my home in the desert." Chesmu explains. "I learned that the desert was not the sort of home I wanted, and I wanted to check on Paoro... so I went back into the mountains. It was that day, when I found Paoro, that everything changed..."
Yuma stretches out on his stomach near Chesmu, interested now. He loves stories. "The desert," he says, "who'd want to live there? It's all hot and dry." Not that he has ever been to the desert, or anywhere near that far from home, but his education hasn't been completely remiss. The juvenile manages to hold his tongue after that one remark, not wanting to delay the rest of the story any longer.
"I came to the mesa here in Amaranth territory. At that point, I knew nothing of the Amaranth aside from the fact I had been outside the territory once or twice in my travels." Chesmu says. "And there was Paoro, healthy, but I could tell she was hurting. But this time in a new way. A way that neither man nor disease can hurt."
Yuma tilts his head, not understanding at first. "What was hurting her?" he asks, while his tail gives an inquisitive flick.
Chesmu licks Yuma's head. "Her mate was gone still. Ahiga had not returned. She was heartbroken. When I found her, she knew she was ready to stand down as Matron, as she did not want to lead the tribe alone." Chesmu says. "As luck would have it, your mother, Ayashe, had returned from a journey of her own coincidentally at the time I had found Paoro. Paoro named Ayashe Matron. And then Ayashe gave me the honor of being Chieftain. Do you know why?"
The younger cougar purrs, lidding his eyes at the lick. It eases the sadness that comes with Chesmu's explanation, and Yuma nods in understanding. He imagines that Paoro losing Ahiga would be like him losing one of his sisters; at this age it is the closest approximation he can make, but it is close enough. Losing a sister, after all, would be devastating. "Because... you were big and strong?" he asks, venturing a guess.
Chesmu laughs out loud. Then he smiles to Yuma. "No... not really. When I became Chieftain, I was barely an adult. There would have been many better choices than me if strength was the only reason." Chesmu licks Yuma some more. "You care to guess again?"
Yuma does not seem embarrassed by his father's laughter. Instead, he smiles a bit. His brow furrows a bit as he thinks, and after a moment, he hazards another guess. "Is it 'cause you helped Paoro?"
Chesmu nods. "Exactly. I helped Paoro. She found that I could handle myself well as a 'leader/protector' during the journey, where I was essentially the only one hunting and keeping the group safe. Paoro could not hunt, the Disease had taken hold of her, and a duck and a ram aren't useful for hunting." Chesmu says. "When Ayashe had heard what I had done for her mother, she chose me, one she had never even met before, to be her mate and Chieftain."
The juvenile smiles again, proud to have guessed correctly this time. The smile fades, replaced by a look of awe as he realizes how difficult Chesmu's job must have really been. The answer seems obvious to him now... but he had never been told the details of his father's rise to leadership. Following in /those/ particular pawprints is going to be a lot more difficult than he ever thought.
Chesmu, male cougar
Yuma, male juve. cougar
Chesmu warns his son about the sighting of Man and tells him a story about the last time the tribe faced difficult odds.
Stone Formations
================================================================================
After moving out of the forest a bit, though still surrounded by trees, a clearing comes into view. Rocks jut from the ground in no apparent pattern, at least not easily discernible from the ground. The rocks seem to form an elliptical shape, sort of like an egg, an oval amongst the grasses growing here. While the inner oval appears to have rocks that have been weathered down to about 3 feet tall, the outer oval's rocks are taller yet, about 6 feet tall, though they, too, have signs of weathering as much as the inner oval has. What has made the outer rocks survive better than the others? It appears they are the same types of rock, the same age, and the same amount of weathering, but they are just bigger than the others. This is something that could be pondered for days, if not longer. The overall feel of the place is a feeling of sacredness, or something akin to a sprituality that one feels when confronted with the unkown: a bit scary, a bit odd, but very intriguing.
================================================================================
As long as the weather is fair, the son of the Chief can be found here almost every afternoon, spending the last few hours before dusk lying on the stones. Yuma is not a lazy cougar by nature, but it is now past the middle of spring, and the warmth of the afternoon discourages needless activity. His eyes are closed, but he is not quite asleep, swiveling an ear or swishing his tail now and then. In other parts of the forest, fear has begun to spread like wildfire, but for now this place is still and peaceful.
It hasn't been so calm around the territory, as far as Chesmu is concerned. Almost had a Man step right onto the territory! And now the Chieftain has a nasty wound in his shoulder from those thunder sticks they carry. He's grateful its not a serious wound. But, it turns out, it is quite painful. He approaches the rocks he likes to roost on after a long border patrol. But he's not sure he could relax now. Now that humans seem to be back int he mountains.
The sound of approaching paws causes Yuma to twitch his ears, his eyes sliding open to look toward its source. He does not bother to lift his head until he notices that the red on his father's shoulder is not a fresh marking, but an ugly-looking wound of some sort. With a blink, the younger cougar sits up, peering down at Chesmu with surprise and concern. "Owch, wow -- how'd you get that?"
"A Man hurt me with a thunder stick." Chesmu says, albeit he's not sure exactly how the darn things are able to hurt so much. He looks at the wound. "Yuma... I need you to do me large favor." Chesmu looks at his son in the eyes. "I need you and your sisters to stay in the heart of the territory, near as many cougaresses as you can. Can you do that?"
"A Man?" Yuma clearly did not expect that. A fight with a wolf or a bear could have caused such an injury, or even the sharp tines of a buck's antlers, but... "I didn't think there were any around here." He hops down from his stony perch and moves closer to his father, but when he examines the wound, he knows it could not have been caused by any animal. It even /smells/ different. "Okay. I will," he promises, and of course, he'll make sure his sisters do the same. "Are they... here? In /our/ territory?"
Chesmu is sure they aren't, he'd smell them. But one almost came in. "No. But the one that attacked me almost walked into our territory." Chesmu says. "If he had managed to do so, my son, he may have done more than just hurt me and Shadowfrisk." Certainly, the man wouldn't have killed his cubs! Would they be that destructive? Not even most predators would be that daring to walk into a tribal territory to attack cubs!
Yuma frowns. Concern is not a familiar emotion for the young male, who has known very little of fear in the course of his short life. He does not feel fear for himself, not yet, but he is already starting to worry about his sisters. "That's... not good. Do you think he'll come back?"
"The one who did this was killed. But oftentimes, where there is one Man..." Chesmu says, then lets the sentence drift off. Point made. Where there's one Man, there are often a hundred more. This worries Chesmu. They left the body of the man out there!
Yuma looks relieved to hear that the Man is no longer a threat, but Chesmu's words leave him feeling unsettled. There are many able-bodied cougaresses in their tribe, however, and he does not doubt their ability to protect him -- or Chesmu's, for that matter. His attention returns to his father's wound, his recently-changed green-gold eyes looking it over carefully. "Can Grandmother Paoro heal that?" He knows that healing is one of the Shamaness' many skills, but he has never seen a wound that actually needed tending.
Chesmu looks over at the wound. "I'm sure she can. Since before you were even born, Paoro never ceases to amaze me with her talent and consideration." Chesmu says, then licks the wound. It stings, and he stops after a short time. "Since before I was a chieftain, when I met her, she considered the health and safety of even prey when the Disease hit."
Yuma nods, reassured. He sinks back on his haunches and curls his tail over his paws, his eyes lingering on the injury for another moment before meeting Chesmu's. The Disease his father referred to swept through these lands before Yuma was born, but the juvenile has been told the tales often enough. "She saved everyone, didn't she?"
"Yes. In a way, she did. But... and she will tell you this, Yuma... she could not do it alone. She was the Matron at the time, and the disease had caused Ahiga, your grandfather, my predecessor, the Chieftain at the time, to leave. She, too, was afflicted by the disease. It was when I came to her with a ram and a duck that she decided we should do something about the problem. We journeyed far into the desert to the south in search of the cure. I was one of the few who was healthy in the group. When we found the cure, it was like finding joy. We continued the truce until we returned to the mountains and went our seperate ways... except I had stayed in the desert."
The young male may have heard the stories, but he when he did, he always imagined Paoro the way she is now; as the Shamaness, the dignified elder. He knew that his grandmother had been the Matron before Ayashe, his mother, but this is the first time he becomes aware, in an almost adult way, of the passage of time. Time changes things -- even Yuma, who has grown a lot in six months. The juvenile splays his ears at these thoughts, then shakes his head, curiosity drawing his attention back to Chesmu. "You stayed in the desert? Why?"
Chesmu lies on his side and continues his story. "I had learned a lot from Paoro in that time. I found myself wanting to stop my wandering lifestyle of no commitment. I tried to make my home in the desert." Chesmu explains. "I learned that the desert was not the sort of home I wanted, and I wanted to check on Paoro... so I went back into the mountains. It was that day, when I found Paoro, that everything changed..."
Yuma stretches out on his stomach near Chesmu, interested now. He loves stories. "The desert," he says, "who'd want to live there? It's all hot and dry." Not that he has ever been to the desert, or anywhere near that far from home, but his education hasn't been completely remiss. The juvenile manages to hold his tongue after that one remark, not wanting to delay the rest of the story any longer.
"I came to the mesa here in Amaranth territory. At that point, I knew nothing of the Amaranth aside from the fact I had been outside the territory once or twice in my travels." Chesmu says. "And there was Paoro, healthy, but I could tell she was hurting. But this time in a new way. A way that neither man nor disease can hurt."
Yuma tilts his head, not understanding at first. "What was hurting her?" he asks, while his tail gives an inquisitive flick.
Chesmu licks Yuma's head. "Her mate was gone still. Ahiga had not returned. She was heartbroken. When I found her, she knew she was ready to stand down as Matron, as she did not want to lead the tribe alone." Chesmu says. "As luck would have it, your mother, Ayashe, had returned from a journey of her own coincidentally at the time I had found Paoro. Paoro named Ayashe Matron. And then Ayashe gave me the honor of being Chieftain. Do you know why?"
The younger cougar purrs, lidding his eyes at the lick. It eases the sadness that comes with Chesmu's explanation, and Yuma nods in understanding. He imagines that Paoro losing Ahiga would be like him losing one of his sisters; at this age it is the closest approximation he can make, but it is close enough. Losing a sister, after all, would be devastating. "Because... you were big and strong?" he asks, venturing a guess.
Chesmu laughs out loud. Then he smiles to Yuma. "No... not really. When I became Chieftain, I was barely an adult. There would have been many better choices than me if strength was the only reason." Chesmu licks Yuma some more. "You care to guess again?"
Yuma does not seem embarrassed by his father's laughter. Instead, he smiles a bit. His brow furrows a bit as he thinks, and after a moment, he hazards another guess. "Is it 'cause you helped Paoro?"
Chesmu nods. "Exactly. I helped Paoro. She found that I could handle myself well as a 'leader/protector' during the journey, where I was essentially the only one hunting and keeping the group safe. Paoro could not hunt, the Disease had taken hold of her, and a duck and a ram aren't useful for hunting." Chesmu says. "When Ayashe had heard what I had done for her mother, she chose me, one she had never even met before, to be her mate and Chieftain."
The juvenile smiles again, proud to have guessed correctly this time. The smile fades, replaced by a look of awe as he realizes how difficult Chesmu's job must have really been. The answer seems obvious to him now... but he had never been told the details of his father's rise to leadership. Following in /those/ particular pawprints is going to be a lot more difficult than he ever thought.