Post by Ashen on Jun 14, 2008 22:33:29 GMT -5
Location: Cherry Orchard
Cast:
Nameless Man
Cocle, juvenile swift fox
--
The sun is just about finishing its break for the horizon, and the cool, evening air is approaching. But while the weather is not out of the ordinary, the existence of an uninvited creature certainly is. A man sits with his back to a cherry tree, with a worn firearm at his side, a paper in his hands, and a broken pencil within his fingers. His boots are too large, and his clothes so dirtied that it's impossible to tell what color they once were. Clearly not a well-kept being, and not currently very alert to his surroundings, nor the fact that his sole source of light is rapidly diminishing.
The young fox who once surmised that simple quartz he found in a rock was actually hardened water has found himself with a new mystery, and he couldn't be happier. Cocle has recently caught a new scent around his home, just when he thought he'd seen all the animals there were to see. He even met a predatory mouse! This scent is far different, though, completely foreign. Because of this, it is also easy to track. It doesn't get lost in all the other common scents of the area. The young fox is quiet as he draws closer to the human, relying on all of the skills he has learned thus far in his life. After all, what if the thing he finds looks tasty? He'd hate to scare it off before he got a chance to try to catch it, or else ask it every question he has ever asked an animal he doesn't recognize.
Even if the small fox did make a sound, it doesn't seem the man would have heard it. And as the sun falls further downward, his eyes draw nearer to the paper, all but destroying his sharpest sense; sight. The tool in his finger flies steadily over the paper, leaving a series of tiny marks on the sheet of parchment that almost resembles the surrounding orchard. But as the sunlight draws away, the man's brows knit, his eyes move up toward the sky, and a low rumble of words mutter from his lips. He doesn't sound very happy.
To compound the mystery, in the distance are noises unlike any Cocle has heard before. It's a far cry from the singing of birds, the squeaking of mice, or the yipping of foxes. Entranced by the newness of it all, Cocle's pace slows as the sounds grow louder, nearer, until he passes a tree and can see the animal before him. He crouches lower, wanting a chance to study this animal before he reveals his presence. It's huge! Definitely not food, then. Besides... Is it sick? It looks sick! It has lost most of its fur, and its skin looks like it's about to blow right off in a lot of places, entirely too loose to be healthy. If there is any reason why Cocle holds back longer, it is for fear of getting sick. He would hate to lose most of /his/ fur and have /his/ skin change colors and become all loose like that!
Giving up on whatever he had already been doing, the human folds the paper and stuffs it, along with the pencil, into a large, leather bag at his side. Afterwards, he grumbles a few more things, then leans forward to stand up. And once he's upright, he begins to patrol around the nearby trees, gathering fallen sticks in his arms and leaving a mess of his things behind in his original spot. And he still hasn't taken notice of the approaching vulpine.
Whoa! Forget the fact that, standing up, it looks twice as large. How /does/ it stand like that?! It's not even leaning back on the tree for support, hopping around to try to keep its balance, or anything! Too intrigued now to worry about whatever disease this animal has, Cocle hops forward, yipping out a couple of excited questions. 'How do you do that? What are you?' Hopefully the animal is a plant-eater, or else it isn't hungry. Even if it is, though, it won't be the firs ttime that Cocle has gotten a little too curious about a hungry animal, and he has survived so far. Even the ones that are faster than he is can't fit where he can.
At the very first yip, the human stiffens visibly. And when his wide, brown eyes make out a small, furred creature approaching in the semi-darkness, the wood falls from his arms. He can't make the fox out very well, and isn't nearly seasoned enough with the wilderness to recognize it even if he could. Confused and startled, the man scrambles around in a panicked search for his weapon, not wanting to take chances with an unknown animal in the dark.
No answers are forthcoming, and Cocle's enthusiasm wanes just slightly. He can still recognize the sounds and general mannerisms of a creature that has been startled, the frantic movements, even if they aren't movements of the animal scurrying away. A plant-eater, then. Cocle continues yipping, though this time the sounds aren't as loud or hurried. 'I didn't mean to scare you. I won't hurt you, promise.' As though he could. Still, when he was younger, there were prey animals larger than he was who were nevertheless scared of him. He'll never be as big as this animal, and none of his family are as big as this animal, but it allows Cocle to form a reason as to why the weird creature could possibly be scared of him. He stands his ground, moving no closer and no further away.
When the man at last makes it back to his tree, he drops to his knees and fetches the firearm from the ground, hoisting it up on trembling hands. But as he does so, the man hesitates. The animal isn't moving any closer, but its still making sounds. Obviously not understanding a word the fox says, he shouts something in its direction, making an effort to sound threatening while fear invariably creeps into his voice. And that weapon; it stays more or less trained on the tiny creature, while the man's finger twitches over the trigger.
If Cocle knew what this animal is, and knew what the object it is holding is, he would be long gone. As it is, when he hears the unhappy shout in the foreign animal's voice, he lays his ears back and whines. He's as surprised by the animal's reaction as he was by the animal itself. Cocle is trying to be as friendly and nonthreatening as he knows how to be, and it isn't working. In a final, desperate attempt, he begins yipping again. Maybe it's the sickness, whatever made this animal look so unwell. Is that why it can't talk normally? Maybe he isn't just a plant-eater and can't hunt for himself, so Cocle, ever willing to do anything it takes to satisfy his curiosity, offers to bring the weird, bipedal animal some food, and crawls a half-step closer to the man, trying to reveal himself in the minimal light, to show that he's no danger. He's a friend, and he's willing to help.
Had he ever owned a pet of his own, the man might have been able to recognize the non-threatening body language of the fox. If only he could understand the fox's good intentions. But as it is, he sees only a small, canine-shaped creature yipping and not showing the sort of fear for man he's come to expect of wildlife. Could it be rabid? He couldn't remember all that he'd been told of the symptoms, but certainly he couldn't take such a chance. The man steadies his shaking, but only a little, as he aims the barrel for a shot. He pauses just a moment longer, until his index finger just about moves of its own accord; slamming down on the trigger.
Cocle has never seen a man before. His father has never told him of the two-legged creatures, and he has no way of knowing that not only is he not understood at all by this animal, but he is also facing the biggest threat in his short life. Even an animal so isolated from human influence as Cocle knows enough to be frightened of the next noise that comes from the direction of the two-legged animal, though. It is louder than anything the young fox has ever heard, more frightening than the man's angry shout earlier. In comparison, the pained yelp he issues not a half a second later seems quiet, especially as the noise from the handgun reverberates through the trees. He has been bitten before, scratched before, but nothing can compare with the fire that tears through his midsection now as the bullet, until teeth and claws, does not stop when it enters his flesh. At this range, it flies through him, toppling him and leaving him whimpering, unable to move for the searing pain that movement causes. No longer is his attention on this man, and no longer does he creep closer or try to make the man understand him. The weapon served its purpose, and Cocle can now think of nothing but himself and what has just happened to him, trying to puzzle it out so that he can /fix/ it. It's not like there are teeth in his skin that he can pull away from, if he could even manage the strength to pull away from what is causing the pain.
There's a stretch of long, ringing silence that follows the firing, as if all the sound in the world could not compare to it and simply sits back in awe. But it can't last forever, and the daze of the man comes to an end. Still in a partially knelt position, he scoots toward the small creature, but slowly. Is it still alive? He did hit, and it isn't moving. But the sound it's making... As he gets closer, the animal becomes more clear. Guilt dawns in the back of his mind on seeing the undeniable youth of the fox. With a short sigh, the man stands up, aiming again for a killing blow. In tremble in his hands would be a sure sign to any other human; he's not experienced in the act of ending life, not like the others he's accompanied out here.
The most merciful thing for Cocle now is precisely what the nearby human does. Cocle's body is small. The chances are high that the young fox would lose a fatal amount of blood before the bleeding could be stopped, even if someone knowledgeable in medicines and animal care intervened and tried to save him. Besides that, there is no telling what may have been damaged by the bullet, and whether stopping the bleeding would be enough or would simply leave Cocle to die a longer death. The only thing left is to remove the pain, and the second shot from the gun does just that. At close range, with a totally stationary target, it does not require a keen eye and a steady hand to fire a fatal shot, and this time, there is no yelp or fear that accompanies the firing of the gun. Only the cessation of labored, pained breathing.
Cast:
Nameless Man
Cocle, juvenile swift fox
--
The sun is just about finishing its break for the horizon, and the cool, evening air is approaching. But while the weather is not out of the ordinary, the existence of an uninvited creature certainly is. A man sits with his back to a cherry tree, with a worn firearm at his side, a paper in his hands, and a broken pencil within his fingers. His boots are too large, and his clothes so dirtied that it's impossible to tell what color they once were. Clearly not a well-kept being, and not currently very alert to his surroundings, nor the fact that his sole source of light is rapidly diminishing.
The young fox who once surmised that simple quartz he found in a rock was actually hardened water has found himself with a new mystery, and he couldn't be happier. Cocle has recently caught a new scent around his home, just when he thought he'd seen all the animals there were to see. He even met a predatory mouse! This scent is far different, though, completely foreign. Because of this, it is also easy to track. It doesn't get lost in all the other common scents of the area. The young fox is quiet as he draws closer to the human, relying on all of the skills he has learned thus far in his life. After all, what if the thing he finds looks tasty? He'd hate to scare it off before he got a chance to try to catch it, or else ask it every question he has ever asked an animal he doesn't recognize.
Even if the small fox did make a sound, it doesn't seem the man would have heard it. And as the sun falls further downward, his eyes draw nearer to the paper, all but destroying his sharpest sense; sight. The tool in his finger flies steadily over the paper, leaving a series of tiny marks on the sheet of parchment that almost resembles the surrounding orchard. But as the sunlight draws away, the man's brows knit, his eyes move up toward the sky, and a low rumble of words mutter from his lips. He doesn't sound very happy.
To compound the mystery, in the distance are noises unlike any Cocle has heard before. It's a far cry from the singing of birds, the squeaking of mice, or the yipping of foxes. Entranced by the newness of it all, Cocle's pace slows as the sounds grow louder, nearer, until he passes a tree and can see the animal before him. He crouches lower, wanting a chance to study this animal before he reveals his presence. It's huge! Definitely not food, then. Besides... Is it sick? It looks sick! It has lost most of its fur, and its skin looks like it's about to blow right off in a lot of places, entirely too loose to be healthy. If there is any reason why Cocle holds back longer, it is for fear of getting sick. He would hate to lose most of /his/ fur and have /his/ skin change colors and become all loose like that!
Giving up on whatever he had already been doing, the human folds the paper and stuffs it, along with the pencil, into a large, leather bag at his side. Afterwards, he grumbles a few more things, then leans forward to stand up. And once he's upright, he begins to patrol around the nearby trees, gathering fallen sticks in his arms and leaving a mess of his things behind in his original spot. And he still hasn't taken notice of the approaching vulpine.
Whoa! Forget the fact that, standing up, it looks twice as large. How /does/ it stand like that?! It's not even leaning back on the tree for support, hopping around to try to keep its balance, or anything! Too intrigued now to worry about whatever disease this animal has, Cocle hops forward, yipping out a couple of excited questions. 'How do you do that? What are you?' Hopefully the animal is a plant-eater, or else it isn't hungry. Even if it is, though, it won't be the firs ttime that Cocle has gotten a little too curious about a hungry animal, and he has survived so far. Even the ones that are faster than he is can't fit where he can.
At the very first yip, the human stiffens visibly. And when his wide, brown eyes make out a small, furred creature approaching in the semi-darkness, the wood falls from his arms. He can't make the fox out very well, and isn't nearly seasoned enough with the wilderness to recognize it even if he could. Confused and startled, the man scrambles around in a panicked search for his weapon, not wanting to take chances with an unknown animal in the dark.
No answers are forthcoming, and Cocle's enthusiasm wanes just slightly. He can still recognize the sounds and general mannerisms of a creature that has been startled, the frantic movements, even if they aren't movements of the animal scurrying away. A plant-eater, then. Cocle continues yipping, though this time the sounds aren't as loud or hurried. 'I didn't mean to scare you. I won't hurt you, promise.' As though he could. Still, when he was younger, there were prey animals larger than he was who were nevertheless scared of him. He'll never be as big as this animal, and none of his family are as big as this animal, but it allows Cocle to form a reason as to why the weird creature could possibly be scared of him. He stands his ground, moving no closer and no further away.
When the man at last makes it back to his tree, he drops to his knees and fetches the firearm from the ground, hoisting it up on trembling hands. But as he does so, the man hesitates. The animal isn't moving any closer, but its still making sounds. Obviously not understanding a word the fox says, he shouts something in its direction, making an effort to sound threatening while fear invariably creeps into his voice. And that weapon; it stays more or less trained on the tiny creature, while the man's finger twitches over the trigger.
If Cocle knew what this animal is, and knew what the object it is holding is, he would be long gone. As it is, when he hears the unhappy shout in the foreign animal's voice, he lays his ears back and whines. He's as surprised by the animal's reaction as he was by the animal itself. Cocle is trying to be as friendly and nonthreatening as he knows how to be, and it isn't working. In a final, desperate attempt, he begins yipping again. Maybe it's the sickness, whatever made this animal look so unwell. Is that why it can't talk normally? Maybe he isn't just a plant-eater and can't hunt for himself, so Cocle, ever willing to do anything it takes to satisfy his curiosity, offers to bring the weird, bipedal animal some food, and crawls a half-step closer to the man, trying to reveal himself in the minimal light, to show that he's no danger. He's a friend, and he's willing to help.
Had he ever owned a pet of his own, the man might have been able to recognize the non-threatening body language of the fox. If only he could understand the fox's good intentions. But as it is, he sees only a small, canine-shaped creature yipping and not showing the sort of fear for man he's come to expect of wildlife. Could it be rabid? He couldn't remember all that he'd been told of the symptoms, but certainly he couldn't take such a chance. The man steadies his shaking, but only a little, as he aims the barrel for a shot. He pauses just a moment longer, until his index finger just about moves of its own accord; slamming down on the trigger.
Cocle has never seen a man before. His father has never told him of the two-legged creatures, and he has no way of knowing that not only is he not understood at all by this animal, but he is also facing the biggest threat in his short life. Even an animal so isolated from human influence as Cocle knows enough to be frightened of the next noise that comes from the direction of the two-legged animal, though. It is louder than anything the young fox has ever heard, more frightening than the man's angry shout earlier. In comparison, the pained yelp he issues not a half a second later seems quiet, especially as the noise from the handgun reverberates through the trees. He has been bitten before, scratched before, but nothing can compare with the fire that tears through his midsection now as the bullet, until teeth and claws, does not stop when it enters his flesh. At this range, it flies through him, toppling him and leaving him whimpering, unable to move for the searing pain that movement causes. No longer is his attention on this man, and no longer does he creep closer or try to make the man understand him. The weapon served its purpose, and Cocle can now think of nothing but himself and what has just happened to him, trying to puzzle it out so that he can /fix/ it. It's not like there are teeth in his skin that he can pull away from, if he could even manage the strength to pull away from what is causing the pain.
There's a stretch of long, ringing silence that follows the firing, as if all the sound in the world could not compare to it and simply sits back in awe. But it can't last forever, and the daze of the man comes to an end. Still in a partially knelt position, he scoots toward the small creature, but slowly. Is it still alive? He did hit, and it isn't moving. But the sound it's making... As he gets closer, the animal becomes more clear. Guilt dawns in the back of his mind on seeing the undeniable youth of the fox. With a short sigh, the man stands up, aiming again for a killing blow. In tremble in his hands would be a sure sign to any other human; he's not experienced in the act of ending life, not like the others he's accompanied out here.
The most merciful thing for Cocle now is precisely what the nearby human does. Cocle's body is small. The chances are high that the young fox would lose a fatal amount of blood before the bleeding could be stopped, even if someone knowledgeable in medicines and animal care intervened and tried to save him. Besides that, there is no telling what may have been damaged by the bullet, and whether stopping the bleeding would be enough or would simply leave Cocle to die a longer death. The only thing left is to remove the pain, and the second shot from the gun does just that. At close range, with a totally stationary target, it does not require a keen eye and a steady hand to fire a fatal shot, and this time, there is no yelp or fear that accompanies the firing of the gun. Only the cessation of labored, pained breathing.