
Of course it wasn't easy to see much of where he was going, so more than once he stepped on a tail, or a kin, sometimes a pet or familiar..
Still he was making it towards the edges of the crowd to hopefully steal a few minutes of peace and quiet.
Anhelisk wrote:[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgright]Faults hated crowds. Too many kin packed in too-small of a space, moving unpredictably, making her feel like the ground was unstable, even when she knew quite well that generations-old, waterlogged lowland like this hadn't a ghost of a chance of collapsing.
She'd tried to mince her way through– there were foals scantly higher than her knees walking around her, and she hadn't wanted to cause injuries, but sometimes, it was just better to give a decent shove and hope kin got the notion.
"I said move," she growled, pressing her way between a couple of Acha who'd been trying to distract her. Nearly-white pelt or no white pelt, she didn't care to be the subject of affections like these kin seemed to enjoy– and she certainly didn't want those affections aired on top of each other, in the form of flowers.
Flowers! As if anything could be more trite and ridiculous– they grew everywhere, and even though white blooms were one of the most uncommon sights around, there were still enough of them that the ground was festooned with their withering, trampled remains.
Anhelisk wrote:Fault stopped dead, turning to examine the slender kin next to her as he spoke up. It was obvious that he was Zikwa– tiny, and the way he seemed to be moving his head about, completely blind.
"Oh, for... I'm to your right flank," she informed the small figure. "Keep track of me and I'll get you out of this nonsense," she begrudgingly offered.
Anhelisk wrote:"I don't even know why I came here," the doe relayed. "Curiosity, I suppose. Killed the owlcat– should have known it wouldn't be any better for me." Other kin would be the death of her.
She continued navigating, glowering or offering a bit of a snarl when would-be-nuisances made themselves apparent– apparently, having a dainty thing pressed up against her was useful for freeing herself of this throng.
"Well, I have no idea where a cave is, but there's a thicket here that's not otherwise occupied," the doe indicated, pressing towards it.
Anhelisk wrote:"It's where the bushes and trees get really thick. Thicket, Thick-get– that's the best way to remember it. There's about enough room for you to take a break, and that's about it."
She liked his spunk, for all that he was so small. "I wouldn't hesitate. Straight for the muzzle offering it," she retorted. "Addlepated lot that they are, I think it's the only thing that they'd understand."
Anhelisk wrote:Well, his reaction helped spur her on. "Oh, that's easy," she said. "Go for the source of the smell and bite beyond it, and there you'd have it."
She nodded at his assertion that she was sick of things, and, a moment later, realized she had to speak. "I am Finds-Faults," she offered. "And I am loathe to report that I've found nothing but faults with this so-called celebration."
Anhelisk wrote:You know, she really liked this buck's attitude. Instead of wandering off once she had secured the area for him, she might even linger some. She settled herself down, and curled up.
"So. I've heard other kin dream their names when they're born," she offered, after a moment. "Does that mean you remember it?" Do you dream it again? Does your understanding of it change with time?
So many questions she hadn't had answered, not since she'd come to the swamp. She hadn't wanted to seem overeager, or encourage someone she later wanted to chase off.
Somehow, she didn't think that she'd regret asking him this.
Anhelisk wrote:"More or less..." So, their names were stories, and the stories were told in a variety of ways. That made more sense than it didn't, really. The doe nodded, listening for a moment, and trying to imagine it, at least until the buck directed a question at her.
"A solid observation. I am Totoma, yes– I grew up in the mountains, and earned my name there, before I made the trip. I've... always been a little short of temper, and there used to be this boulder that was in the way of my track– the path I travelled at least twice a day. One day, instead going around it, I decided that I was going to break it... and I did. That, and the ground below me, right into a crevice. That, and the fact that I've always been critical of incompetence, got me my name. Finds-Faults, instead of something like Crevice-finder, or Breaks-the-Way, or whatever else might have caught on." She quieted, awaiting his reaction.