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Literature Text
Where to Go
The mist was heavy. Right, left, no matter which direction she looked it was everywhere, obscuring her vision. Constance couldn't even see the nose in front of her face. Squinting her eyes, she tried peering ahead as far as she could, but it was no use.
The sound of beating wings alerted her of Merle's approach. Soon she felt his weight settle between her shoulders.
“It's no use,” he said wearily. “I can't see anything.”
The flyer cursed under her breath.
It had been three nights since they left the small otter family. Root had shown them where the large loch branched off into a river and suggested they followed that, which Constance gladly did. Root had said it was smooth travel but he hadn't been any further than a two-days journey, and had no clue where the river led. The Loch Iskan had been fine with that, but now she and her friend found themselves in a tight fix.
The fog had descended without warning. It snuck up on them, creeping so silently that when Constance realized what it was it was too late. The river to her left was nothing but a dark mass, tendrils of the mist rising from it as if it was really lava. Beneath her the ground was blanketed by it, so that each step she took it puffed around her ankles only to swallow them again. She had to tread carefully. Her paws were already sore from stepping or smacking into hidden stones.
“Perhaps we should wait for the fog to lift,” Merle suggested.
The silvered-irises of Constance's eyes looked to the right. Faint outlines of the forest loomed over them, ominous shapes of dark brown and green. It was discouraging; how could she know it was safe if she couldn't see what could be out there?
“I don't think that's a good idea.” Constance didn't slow.
“Neither is walking ahead blindly. You'll fall into the river at this rate.”
Not the worse outcome, the vixen thought bitterly. Still, she came to a stop. “How about here then?”
Merle looked around. “What? Out in the open?”
“It's not like anything can see us through this mist.”
“Maybe not by sight but there's other senses to worry about.” Merle ruffled his feathers. “Not a problem for me, since I sleep in the trees. But if you feel like staying up and keeping watch until the fog lifts, be my guest.”
Constance frowned. Walking away from the river seemed worse than walking beside it, but either option was dangerous. Turning carefully, she made for the closest set of trees. Every now and then she checked the river, making sure it remained in her sight.
Merle helped to peer at the bushes and bases of trees. Anything would do for shelter right now. Both friends were weary from a whole night of travel, though Constance sensed it was still hours away from dawn.
“I would of thought Iskans were talented in traversing through mists,” Merle said drowsily.
Constance peered over her shoulder to stare oddly at the bird, but right when she did her paw hit another rock. Biting back a curse, she kept her gaze straight ahead as she asked, “What makes you think that?”
“You creatures live near water all the time, it's bound to get foggy frequently. I thought you'd be used to it.”
“Well, we are used to it.” Constance jumped over a root that stuck out of the mist. The action caused Merle to sway on her back, the raven spreading his wings to keep his balance. “But that doesn't mean we have enhanced vision. Plus, most of us are more familiar with the land. This place is alien to me.”
“You mean you're alien to it,” Merle chuckled.
Constance smiled, when suddenly she stopped. Merle felt her muscles underneath his talons stiffen.
“What is it?” He gazed all around him, but couldn't see anything.
The flyer was silent for awhile. Then, “Where's the river?”
Puzzled, Merle looked back where he had seen the dark line that had been the water, only to see that it was no longer there. The feathers along his neck stood on end. It was gone, vanished! But how?!
“We didn't go deeper, did we?”
“I don't think so. I was careful.”
“Well the river didn't just decide to get up and walk away!”
“Don't talk to me like I'm stupid!” Constance snapped.
Merle clamped his beak shut, ruffling his feathers. Fighting back the panic that had started to rise inside him, he made himself relax. Like releasing a sigh, the raven's feathers smoothed back down to his original shape. “You're right, I'm sorry. This isn't your fault.” He looked around. “Does any of this happen to look familiar to you?”
Like Merle, Constance had also calmed down, but when she spoke her voice was grim. “No. It's all the same.”
The trees appeared even bigger to her now. They towered over her like giants, stretching their arms of leaves and bracken toward her, laughing mockingly at their misfortune. A growl rumbled nervously in her throat, ending in a sharp chirp-like sound that released from her mouth.
She tore her gaze away. This was stupid. She shouldn't be afraid! Just because a little fog made things harder to see didn't make the forest any different than it would be without it. Dangerous, yes, but the world was always dangerous. Only kits and joeys turned away, cowering. Not Constance. Constance was a fighter. She overcame any challenge and obstacle that stood in her way. That was all this was. A challenge.
“It doesn't matter,” her voice was stronger, more confident. “We have to wait for the fog to lift anyway, right? Let's find shelter and we'll look for the river tomorrow night.”
Merle was surprised by his friend's sudden resolve. She started forward again and he remained silent. The raven didn't wish to distract her again, guilt harboring in his chest. They might have been alright if he hadn't made that stupid comment about Iskans being able to see through mist, though he knew this thought was ridiculous and Constance didn't blame him for a second.
There was a chill in the air. Merle hunched lower, using his friend's warmth. His feathers were damp, but there wasn't anything he could do about it right now. Another shiver went down his spine. He suddenly realized what it was: wind. The raven raised his eyes to the sky instinctively; vaguely could he see the stars up there. The leaves upon the trees were unable to tell him anything, but he didn't need them. Already he felt another breeze, and he grew hopeful. The wind would surely drag this infernal fog away. It may be gone quicker than he thought.
Constance didn't seem to notice. She was focused on the task at hand, her nostrils twitching as she sniffed the air. This didn't tell her much, only the scent of dew and damp earth meeting her. Her ears swiveled this way and that, but no sound alerted her. This wasn't necessarily a good thing; with everything soggy, a twig would be difficult to snap and the dead leaves upon the ground unable to rustle. Her other senses were nearly as blind as her sight.
Still she crept on, each step deliberate. It annoyed her; their progress was slow, the unchanging scenery only irritating her more. Yet what choice did she have? Like Merle said, stumbling blindly was bad enough, but stumbling blindly without being mindful of where you stepped was suicidal.
“Maybe we should turn back,” Constance said, her voice anxious.
“Turn back where?” Merle said gruffly.
“The river might be the other way. The forest is thicker here.”
Merle shrugged. “It doesn't really matter which way we go, I suppose. Just be careful. Wander too much and we'll be more lost than we already are.”
Constance suddenly had a thought. “Wait a minute, why not just fly over this fog? I know you can't see much, but you should be able to tell where the river is, right? And if not the river itself, then maybe where the trees are kept apart where it flows through?”
The raven was silent a moment. “Not a bad idea. The trees are long but I don't think they'd cover the river entirely on either side, at least not the part where we were. So long as-”
He wasn't able to finish the sentence. Constance had taken another step, but when her paw touched the mist layered upon the ground, no earth braced it. Instead, it kept going, and before she knew it the flyer found herself tumbling head-over-tail down a muddy slope. Instinctively, Merle rose to the air with a caw of alarm, watching with wide eyes as his friend disappeared through the veil of humid smoke.
Constance was too surprised to give a cry herself. Instead she slid and bounced, going ever downward at a slanted angle. Rocks and trees met her along the way, the Lorca doing her best to avoid them, but her body was being battered nonetheless. She was moving so fast, the world spinning around her. There was no telling up from down. The world was white around her with dark shapes coming to meet her fast, and it was all she could do to avoid getting hit in the head.
Her stomach was doing somersaults; Constance began to fear she had fallen down a cliff, the only end waiting for her a flat ground that would have her splattered. But when there seemed to be no end, she finally began to slow. She had stopped bouncing, the flyer somehow finding her paws back beneath her, claws digging into the earth to slow her descent as her chest scraped against pebbles and mud. At last, she halted.
Constance laid there, her body shaking. The look of dazed shock was still upon her visage, yet only one thing ran through her mind: what happened to her tail.
She couldn't look, just couldn't. The thought of its condition terrified her more than any other part of her body. For the longest time she stayed there, not moving. Then her body rose and fell, releasing a breath she had been holding. Closing her eyes, she flexed her tail. It hurt, but wasn't broken. Taking a deep breath, she moved it slowly over her back, her worry holding down the pain. When she was sure the tip of her tail was over her head, she forced her eyes open.
And sighed in relief.
It was a little dirty, but each feather was intact and in-place. She realized that when she fell, she had already closed the feathers together, protecting them mostly from the mud but more importantly diminishing the chance of them getting cut or torn. Constance reopened them now, their subtle beauty clearly made out in her eyes despite the mist and dirt. Still, seeing them dirty annoyed her. She'll have to clean them later.
Now the flyer realized how much pain she was in. Her entire body ached. She exercised each muscle slowly, testing them. Nothing seemed broken, but when she tried moving her right hind leg, she inhaled sharply. A jabbing pain shot through her leg, but it quickly subsided. She tested it again, more slowly, and was able to move each toe. Nothing was broken, then. However, the ankle was sprained. Carefully, Constance got up.
“Constance! Constance, where are you!”
Merle's anxious cries reached her ears. Looking toward the sky, she called, “Over here!”
She thought she could see a dark shape pass by, then retrace itself. Eventually, Merle came out of the mist.
“There you are!” Merle's voice was shaky with relief. “I thought- I mean I was so-”
Constance smiled a small smile, touched by her friend's concern. “It's alright, I'm okay. Just sore is all.”
The raven perched on the ground in front of his friend, not at all convinced. He waddled from side-to-side, beak moving up and down as he looked her over. His eyes eventually rested on the injured leg.
“Are you limping?”
She looked at her hind leg, sheepish. “Don't worry, it's just a sprain. I'm sure it'll heal up in no time.”
Her words didn't seem to comfort her companion. Concern was etched deeply into his eyes but he nodded, saying nothing. Instead, he flew to the lowest branch he could find. “Let's find somewhere for you to rest.”
She followed him, too weary to care about her surroundings. If her progress was slow before, it was a snail's pace now. Constance could be moving in place for all she knew. Each part of her body screamed for her to stop, to lay down there in the mist and sleep. It felt like her body was on fire, and she couldn't tell if her vision was blurring or it was the mist that was softening the edges of the trees more so than usual.
She nearly passed the den when Merle flew in front of her. He gestured with a wing, its tip pointing out the opening to the hollow beneath the tree's roots. Constance went in without a word. She collapsed heavily on the ground, untouched by the fog outside. She curled up, the feathers of her tail placed protectively on her back, and with a final sigh she drifted off to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
“Hey!”
The voice was oddly distant, as if her head was submerged in water. Contance closed her eyes tighter, trying to summon the dream back.
“Hey! Get up!”
She didn't want to get up, it was working! Silly dream. Then again, dreams usually didn't make sense of themselves.
“Alright, that's it. You asked for it, fish-breath!”
“Yeowch!” Constance leaped right up as soon as the pain exploded in her paw, but as she did her head slammed hard on something above her. She came right back down, moving her paws over her scalp to rub out the new injury.
“Ugh, huh? What?” The haze of sleep leaving her mind, the flyer looked around her with gritted teeth. That's right, she was beneath a tree... Now alert, she sought out the one who had been trying to wake her, senses sharp.
“About time, slime-fur. Who do you think you are, stealing dens?!”
An orange-colored head peered around from the entrance, the face vicious. Constance squinted at it, the mane upon her neck and back beginning to stand on end with indignation. “Watch the name calling, fox, before you lose that tongue,” she hissed.
The fox snorted, abandoning her hiding place to stand in full view in front of the flyer. “Big talk for a sorry sight like yourself,” she said, “You look like you were caught in the middle of a stampede.”
Constance flushed beneath her fur. She fought the urge to hide her tail behind her, but before she made a retort something about the fox had caught her eye: her belly was round. This fox was pregnant.
Instantly the Iskan Lorca smoothed down her mane. “I'm sorry, I didn't know this was your den. I hope I haven't kept you waiting?” Constance rose to her feet as fast as she could, guilt ridden and only hoped that the fox wasn't uncomfortable or in any sort of pain. But as soon as she did, a sharp, jagged pain shot up through her hind leg, sending her back to the ground with a tight gasp.
That's right: she had injured it during her fall. The mother-to-be had noticed it, too, obviously, and darted forward. Just like Constance, the fox's demeanor had completely changed. The flyer suspected it was her paternal instinct kicking in, because the fox was suddenly very mother like.
“Oh, you poor dear,” she sniffed the wound. “The bird was right after all; you really are injured.”
Before the flyer could ask the question aloud, it was answered with the sound of beating wings and Merle suddenly appearing on the ground. “Afraid so. She says it's only sprained but I don't know.”
“Hmm, she could be right, it doesn't look broken...”
“Really?” Merle cocked his head. “Okay, I'll take your word for it. You are more closely related to her than I am, anyway.”
“There are some bruises beneath her fur, but as far as I can tell the leg is the worse of it.”
“That's good then, not nearly as bad as I thought it was. It was a very long fall. Anyway, again I apologize for the intrusion. Had I known this place belonged to you we would have moved on, but it was incredibly misty and my friend here was in no condition to walk.”
“Oh, no no no, don't you fret a single feather about it. I was caught in that mist myself, showed up out of nowhere and I'd only gone for a drink. I couldn't even see my nose! I'm surprised you two tried walking through it.”
“Yeah, not the best idea we've had heh heh... But we were worried about staying in the open, even if the mist covered us. I'm Merle by the way, and this is Constance.”
The fox smiled. “Abretta. Pleasure to meet you both.”
“Likewise,” Merle performed his most charming smile a raven could muster, and gave a bow. Abretta giggled.
Constance blinked; it was such an odd sight. One moment she had been asleep, then the next a fox and raven were flitting about her, talking among themselves and checking her like concerned parents. It was embarrassing! She cleared her throat.
“I really am okay...” She got up carefully this time, leg raised. “And as Merle said, we're sorry for intruding. We'll leave now.”
Constance made for the opening, despite the protests her body made, but Abretta stood in her way. “I don't think so, not in that condition!” She spoke with sudden authority, once more giving the impression of a mother speaking to a child. It stopped Constance right in her tracks, ears perked and brows raised in surprise. Abretta didn't seem to notice. “You may stay here until your leg heals right up, I can't have you go around only on three legs.”
“Oh, but we don't want to be a bother...” Merle hopped up, concern now etched into his visage. He really was worried about Constance, but Abretta had her own problems to deal with. Certainly she couldn't be planning on supporting Constance in her condition; they would only be a burden.
But Abretta was shaking her head. “Don't you worry about a thing. Besides, having a type such as yourself would help keep unwanted company away.”
“Have you been having trouble?”
“No, but you never know.”
Constance frowned, but if there was one thing she knew it was that pregnant females always got what they wanted. Reluctant, the flyer settled to one side of the den, doing her best to make as much room as possible. “Alright, fine... But only for a few hours, a day tops. My leg should be okay to walk on by then.”
The vixen gave no indication she heard, and instead began fixing the bedding on the ground. “My mate should be here soon with breakfast. Oh, don't look at me like that. How'd you think this happened,” she gestured to her belly, “eating the right kind of berries? Don't you two worry about him, he'll agree to have you stay. Well, I'll talk him into it.”
Despite Abretta's words, Constance was worried. So was Merle. A male with his mate expecting a litter would be doubly cautious of strangers. That was all she needed, another reason to feel guilty and intrusive. She only hoped when Abretta's mate did arrive, there wouldn't be a fight that would leave everything awkward and uncomfortable.
“What's your mate's name?” Merle asked.
“Nikolie,” Abretta answered, her eyes suddenly dream-like, and she sighed. “I call him Niko sometimes, but he probably wouldn't appreciate you two calling him that.” She chuckled.
Merle nodded in understanding. “I see, well I look forward to meeting him. If you two ladies are alright here, would you mind if I left? I'd like to help with catching breakfast and see if I can find anything.”
The raven was still concerned with Nikolie's reaction to their presence, so he wanted to do everything he could to make a good impression. It would be terribly rude of him to just sit around and eat what Nikolie specifically caught for his mate; he would have to do everything he can to not seem like a burden and help the couple out.
Whether Abretta realized this or not, Merle couldn't tell, but she smiled and nodded. “We'll be perfectly fine here, thank you Merle. I'm sure we'd all appreciate that.”
“Excellent. It may not be anything terribly big, but I hope it will be enough!” Merle gave his signature bow, then took off. This also gave him a chance to do a perimeter check; an injured Lorca and pregnant fox made for easy targets.
Constance watched her friend go, now alone with Abretta. The vixen was still busily cleaning up the bedding, which made the flyer smile softly to herself. It was all still so strange to her, but once again sleep was creeping toward her. The sun was barely up; she hadn't slept long, and dusk was still hours away. Her maw stretched widely to release a yawn, and Constance laid her head back on her paws. She hoped Nikolie wouldn't mind having them there, at least not as much to try and attack them. Eyes closing, she concluded that if there was even the slightest issue of having them there, she and Merle will continue on, regardless of whether or not her leg healed. With that resolution in mind, Constance fell asleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Nikolie was not at all pleased with what he saw. The first thing he noticed was his mate talking to someone: a bird, crow to be more precise. Or a raven..? It was always hard for him to tell. Abretta was laughing, and it made him smile; she had the most lovely laugh. Anyway, it hadn't been the bird that displeased him. It was what he saw next.
Just beyond the two he could vaguely see the opening of their den, and inside a dark silhouette. He had to squint to see it more clearly, but sure enough the details came into view as he focused. Inside the den was a large shape, the ears and snout coming into view as he made them out, and it appeared to be sleeping. The sight made him stop in his tracks, frowning deeply around the two fairly large possums he had in his mouth.
What was going on? Niko's catch had been quite lucky indeed, but he wasn't expecting company. Certainly not from one of those Lorcaelans. He held the possums by their tales, blood staining each of their fur. The first he had caught by surprise, and only noticed the second when it ran. He gave chase and it put up quite a fight, but in the end it was Niko who came out victorious. He certainly didn't plan to share that victory with anyone but his mate; both belonged to her as far as he was concerned.
Ears pinned back, Nikolie approached the trio, his stance wary.
Abretta was the one to notice him first. Immediately her expression became even more uplifted, and she half-bounced, half-waddled up to him, her conversation with Merle forgotten. The sight might have been comical had it not been more sweet. It certainly lifted Niko's mood, and his tail waved as the two touched noses in greeting.
Merle had to smile, but he could sense the tension from the male. While the two were busy, he hopped over to the den and came beside his friend. “Psst, Constance. He's here.”
Constance was roused instantly. Slowly she blinked away sleep, her mind even more groggy now. Nonetheless she raised her head and shook it, waking herself up and peered through the opening. Just beyond she could see the two foxes greeting each other.
Nikolie and Abretta broke the contact, and she led her mate back toward the den. When they were close enough, Niko placed the possums on the ground. “So...” he began, a corner of his lip lifted in a half-smile. “Who are these two?”
There was no mistaking the strain in the action. Constance's feathered tail gave a nervous flick; of course she wasn't afraid of Nikolie, but she wanted to be respectful and cause no stress between the couple, especially Abretta. She swallowed to moisten her mouth and throat (which were dry from her sleep) to respond, when Merle beat her to the punch, as always.
“I am Merle, and this is my friend, Constance. Your mate, Abretta, had been so kind as to bid us welcome to your home so that my friend may recover from her injury. We really do not mean to be a bother; you'll hardly realize we're even here!” The black bird hopped back and gestured with his wing, directing Niko's gaze to a small pile of three mice. “The forest has been especially generous this morning. There was an abundance of mice not too far off, though we've ate most of them. We've saved these for you.”
Nikolie was taken aback; Abretta was impressed. He hadn't expected such an introduction. True, he didn't speak to many birds, if any at all, but this one had such an odd quality to him that somehow instantly won other's appeal. He regained his composure, however, and remained doubtful. Constance could feel the tension lessening, though.
“I see... Thank you.”
His voice had wavered slightly, as if he was still considering the bird. Constance had to smile; her friend had such a way with others that she found impossible to have herself. If Merle hadn't been with her, she had no idea where she'd be right now. But they weren't completely out of the loop yet, certainly not Constance. She still needed to make her own impression.
“The poor dear sprained her leg,” Abretta sat between her mate and the raven, her expression looking pitifully toward Constance. Again the skin beneath her fur flushed red as Niko turned to her, her expression somewhat sheepish. “I decided to have them stay until it feels better,” Abretta continued. “She fell while walking through the mist last night.”
Well, that's not exactly our problem, Nikolie wanted to say. He kept his mouth shut, though. He wasn't heartless, but his main concern was Abretta. He didn't trust either the raven or the Lorca, but they seemed friendly enough... Besides, Abretta had already invited them. Like Constance, he knew who was the boss right now.
He turned his head and pushed the possums forward with his paw. “Anyway... Here's what I got myself. I hope no one minds possums for breakfast.” The move was reluctant, but he did his best to try and sound friendly.
Merle smiled. “None for me, thank you. I've filled myself with mice.”
“I'm alright as well,” Constance said.
Nikolie felt relieved, but Abretta was shaking her head again. “We insist!” She said cheerfully. “Don't we, Niko?”
His ears pinned back again, but he forced a smile. “Yeah... We do.”
Constance ended up sharing half a possum with Merle. There had been no use arguing with the pregnant vixen, but at least most of the meal was given to the couple. Constance was hungry, but taking Niko's hard earned catch seemed wrong, doubly so since they were intended for the female. Besides, she will be able to hunt for herself come this evening, she was sure. But it was no use to appear rude and not finish the meal given to them.
Both ate quickly and the Iskan settled back down to sleep again. She was sure she wasn't making a very good first impression to Nikolie; she had hardly spoken at all and she was sleeping in their den. She had tried to sleep outside, but Abretta would have none of it.
It was no use worrying about it now. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Merle watched his friend for a moment, then excused himself once everyone was comfortable and took to the air, promising to be back soon.
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Just another segment of Constance's and Merle's adventure
As you may have noticed, I changed the name of the story. A lot shorter and to the point haha. I was going to make it longer, but it seemed like a good spot to stop and make the rest into another chapter. Hope you enjoy!
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Previous: It's a Lorca's Life [Chapter One]
Next: It's a Lorca's Life [Chapter Three]
Name: Constance
SSP#: 009
Gender: Flyer
Subspecies: Loch Iskan
Marking Type: Badger Banding
Uncommon Traits: Purple/Lavender Accents
Rare Traits: Silver Eyes
Sire & Dam: Foundation
Offspring: None
Lorcaelans ©
& 
Lorcaelans are a CLOSE SPECIES! In no way or form are they to be used, nor is it okay to make one of your own. Lorcaelans are a breed created by the two above, and only EncounterEthereal will be making any Lorcaelan character. If you wish to have one for your own, please contact her. It's greatly encouraged! Both EncounterEthereal and XanderDragunov are looking for thoughts and feedback on the species, you may also comment your thoughts on here.
For any questions you may have on Lorcaelans, or if you simply want to know what they are, go here.
Writing & all characters © VoxMagi
Lines and background in picture © EncounterEthereal
Coloring in picture done by KeesaRokuri
© 2014 - 2024 VoxMagi
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I love this story series xD It's so neat to watch you give 'life' to so many of these ideas Encounter and I put together when creating Lorcaelan.