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.


::B.e.l.l.a.d.o.n.n.a:: [ Open ]

Be careful of what you touch lest the grave be what you lust

It was so beautiful, the way that each individual flake fell around her. There was no breeze, no wind to disturb their motion, and thus she had been gifted with a beauteous ice scene to stare at. Her honey pools would pick one flake and trace it was it lazily floated through the air down to her. Swiftly, the femme would shoot out her paw to catch it upon her dorsum. Her individual hairs would shift it until it settled and finally remained still. For minutes, or even an hour, she would watch it until its beautifully crisp and sharp edges began to first round and then melt into oblivion, nothing more than a single drop of liquid upon her pelt. Athene had remained here for days after eating her last meal, resting and enjoying her show of unique beauty. And they were unique, really. None of the hundreds she had captured with her gaze had been identical to any of the others, and yet they were all symmetrical with themselves. One side of a flake matched each of the others, and there would be anywhere between four and twelve points on a flake. Athene thought how odd it was for such a thing to be so identical to itself, but then she remembered how short each life was - there was no time for it to become injured, wounded, and scarred. It would never suffer from old age or illness, or be attacked.

Sighing, the timberess rose to her paws and shook. Inches of snow released itself from her pelt and suddenly her camoflauge was gone. It was with a shiver that she realized that all of the drops of melted snow had finally made their way her thick winter pelt and stung her flesh. While staying still, she had remained safe from it, each drop either dancing on the hairs, or refreezing. But now she was cold - a rare thing for the ess. Athene scoffed and shook again, loosening the drops and releasing some from her pelt. Slowly, she began to stretch, first reaching backward and arching her back before eking her way forward and pushing out with first one back limb and then the other. Pain flushed through her limbs as her nerves returned back to life. She had stayed still too long and had crushed them with her weight... but she did not flinch or cry out. She was used to pain and had been taught to ignore it and now was nothing different. Athene began to move, her motions stiff, starting out at a walk, leaving a clear path of her paw prints in her wake. Each step stung her paws and pulled at muscles left tight for far too long, but as she moved, she slowly stretched them out until she felt comfortable enough to pick up the pace into a steady trot. She moved away from Spring Grounds, and from the brute she both wanted to yell and and run to.

He didn't understand where she had come from, the things she had been taught and learned. Pierce had lamented the fact that she had given up her pups - their pups - and did not get that she had had no other option. If Sabelle was to live, their own must die. It was a simple fact, at least for Athene. It was true that this place was a different place with a different way, and that many wolves here were well rounded instead of only specializing in a single career path. But it was what she knew - to ensure the healthy future of her clan, only the strong could survive. The Trials were not amusing or fun for any, but they taught the truth of life to the youngest of vargs at an early age: you must kill or be killed. How true it was - if you did not hunt, then you did not eat and thus you died. If another attacked you, if you did not kill them you yourself would die. Yes, she had killed their pups, but she had saved them from having to war against one another. She remembered her own Trials far too vividly and the horrors that she had had to endure... for her litter had been a large one.

Athene sped up to a gallop and leapt up the increasingly steepened slope, claws scraping at rock and dirt and ice alike, her paws stinging as she slid first one way and then another. But she did not slow or stop. Instead, with careless speed she ascended Rainbow Cliff, not giving thought to what would happen if she ever spun out of control. The edges loomed on either side of her, and a few feet in either direction would spell for her demise, but that was half of the thrill, wasn't it? It was, at least for Athene. And when she finally reached the top she stood tall and happy, the chill gone due to her exertion, despite the chilling wind that whipped about the peak. Her head tilted back and she cried out, a long lonely howl that wrapped around her before being carried off by the gale. It was not calling for anyone necessarily... she had just wanted to call out to the land around her... to cry at all. But no tears came.


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