Fir Chilis is the name given to the dense string of forested land that fills much of Blossom Forest. There are two different populations, depending on where in the land you are. To the north lays the deciduous forest, full of maples, oaks, birches, and beeches. To the south lay a coniferous forest full of pines and firs. No matter where you are, the trees shelter you from the sun and the rain and the snow. Take care not to get lost in the woods however - you may never find your way out. There are other dangerous here too - predators waiting for their own prey. While the land is prosperous they do not pose too much of a threat, but whenever famine or drought hits, they will attack anything... even other Putnar.

Those looking to hunt will find the forests well stocked - there are white-tailed deer, turkeys, red squirrels, chipmunks, mermots, and moose.


FOUND {thunderfoot}

Nimbly avoiding the ricocheting rocks, Vaccaro pushed off from his lower outcrop in the cliff to land silently a good wolf-length above. He was still trailing behind her - more out of choice than ability. It was a benign exercise to be honest, nothing head turning or particularly riveting. The earthen hued creature contented himself with following his strong headed companion. The day was calm, ordinary: snow white clouds dotted their blue canvas in lazy insubstantiality. It wouldn’t rain today.

He couldn’t remember why they were bothering to scale the landscape today. The morning had passed in a dreary state - days like these were always of that nature for the silent wolf - and before he knew it he was at Macartni’s shoulder once again, off to do some other task or whatever. It was better than hanging around the others, at any rate. Their placidity only contributed to the ordinary. Everything was ordinary here. The harrowing trail not interesting enough, Vaccaro racked his mind - searching for the last time something had truly surprised him. Bad idea. He had always balanced on a thin line of dreams and reality; now, trying to separate the two made the boy’s head feel foggy.

Sending his own trail of scattering pebbles down the mountain, Vaccaro surged upwards - powerful haunches bunching and releasing with ease. Macartni was already standing on the level topping of the cliff. Leaving large dusty paw-prints behind, the richly coloured soul strolled over to join her. It was a weird friendship - he supposed he should make more effort. Sure, he never argued, never failed to put up with her ideas, was almost constantly to be found at her shoulder, but it wasn’t hard to tell she put more in then what she ever got out of him. It wasn’t anything he had ever been able to help though: he’d learned early enough to keep his mouth shut and go with the flow. The fascinating dreams that really did get his eyes gleaming and heart racing were stupid, unrealistic, pointless… the list went on. Each word - sighed or spat at his fluffy pup self - had bruised the boy’s boundless spirit until he withdrew it and buried it deep until it didn’t show anymore. He’d done what they wanted him to. He was normal now, not to mention boring. Turned out that those dreams had been a bigger part of him than even he’d suspected.

Again, the puzzlement of Macartni - what she’d ever seen in him to make him a friend could only be guessed at. There was plenty of spirit within the girl; in comparison he, Vaccaro, was… well a shadow. Tousled by a permanent wind, the wolf’s rich russet, chocolate and black fur was nothing if not artistic and alluring. Pair this with his buff physique and captivating liquid gold eyes, there is no doubt he was a looker. The thought never really crossed his mind - it was only apparent to him by the way fae’s sometimes looked him over. Their interest was always short lived, that was his own fault. He just couldn’t be bothered to acquaint himself with them; sworn to vastly different from each other, the only thing Vaccaro noticed was their typical similarities. Perhaps - he thought - he had taken more injury from others during childhood for there was invariably a resentment for the customs and fomalities that served to design a particular type of wolf.
Abide by them and prosper… more like abide and stop living.

Golden from the light, his eyes bestowed themselves upon Macartni’s able frame: a sly smile in place just for her sake. She was an attractive girl, pretty but too spirited to be thought of as a helpless female. Vaccaro supposed he liked that - her spirit. Yet, there was a nagging thought that it wasn’t really her feistiness itself but her unconventionality that appeased him.

He should be a better friend… but it wasn’t as if he didn’t constantly have her back. This at least, he hoped she knew. Knocking his shoulder against her jaw, Vaccaro sauntered playfully to the edge of the cliff they had just scaled. Trotting right to the ridge, he curved his large paws over the rock until black claws scraped against the plummeting wall. Just a cheap rush - perhaps his heart would thrum itself crazy if he threw himself over. That would make up for all the days of meaningless monotony.

OOC sorry i'm just getting my bearings with him so its a bit rusty

VACCARO .::. Knight .::. Adult .::. Pack .::. Love .::. Lineage .::. SOARE


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