DWC 2025; Day 4 ~ Direction/Languish
T/W: Animal death, description of injuries
Our story resumes from here...
The new day had begun exactly like the morning prior, over pouring in the increase of intensity to these recurrent dreams. Every transgression replayed in her mind with detail. It disturbed any ounce of peace Susan sought, even in her waking moments she was becoming unable to repress thinking them. Volatile thoughts... Painful, damning thoughts and memories. Old scars had become fresh again, phantom pain starting to wind up her nerves. She was left sore, beaten to the bone from trying to resist; Hoping that such terrible memories would be so easily dismissed.
By the rising of the sun she was already exhausted from this internal wrestling. She had found some comfort and protection in Anthrel, leaning her back into the tigress's side. It brought her mind or body much relief, grounding her to reality away from these memories which continued to haunt her, all these years later.
Susan had taken her time through the very early hours to pack for the day, bringing everything to her little space in one side of the camp, occasionally checking the fire that those perfect variables never occurred. Packing was a way to busy her hands, but not her mind. She follows through, checking that her rifle was primed and her knives sharp. Once satisfied she'd throw her outer layer on, tie her tangled locks into a high ponytail and pull her rifle onto her shoulder. All the while Sue was wrestling with the theories of why these dreams had become so strong since her relocation while accounting for food for herself and potentially Jenny:
Was it a subconscious fear of being alone in unmarked, untamed woods?
Was it insecurity that she was beyond the reaches of her comforts?
Whatever the case, she hoped this trend of poor sleep wouldn't continue, or she'd be in dire straits before the end of this event. Even now... The bleariness of her eyes was intense and compromising for much longer than the day before, she was struggling to wake up fully. The fire is filled, the smolders beaten until cool ash suffocated them fully.
Quietly the Madam wraps and packs the butchered and smoked meats from her first kill, storing the food away with alittle security added to prevent opportunistic animals from rummaging through the contents. Certain all was and as it should be she gathers Jenny's lead rope, guiding the hinny and her tigers out of camp. Back down the well worn path, she has made the first priority of her rounds to check the snare traps set up.
The river was especially quiet today, were it not for the shrill insects buried in the grasses and aquatic flora, the occasional croak of male amphibians. But in terms of forest critters, especially for the diurnal, she was expecting to see more foot traffic for how many beasts she accounted for yesterday. At the very least any of the ranukis or otters had to have been taking opportunity for alittle dawn fishing or anura hunting!
This initially turns her gut with worry. What was she missing?
It gets pushed far back into her mind as she comes upon her fifth snare: without a catch. She'd sigh through her nose, nostrils flared and brow pinched with irritation. This was the second trap she passed that was trampled or destroyed. She couldn't help but notice the fresh roughage and dirt tilled, ungulated prints all throughout the area for both instances.
"Fucking hogs," She spits at the ground. All the snares set up just yesterday were what she brought in total for this trip, and already she was out two. This would significantly reduce whatever hauls she was anticipating to bring by the end. Though she tries to remain positive, speaking out loud to herself with some dignified resignation: "Well, if that's my karma, let it be so simple..."
Pushing forward the Madam would lead her hinny through the winding river side, boots crunching silkweed and maidenhair ferns beneath her heels trying to maintain a confident, steady tread. The hinny was much less surefooted, but kept pace with her handler while keeping even breaths.
The sixth snare bore no fruit to this early morning hike. But it did allow her a moment to pause, appreciating the first beast she had seen all morning.
A small ranuki was lapping at the rivers edge, disturbing the peace of the slow flowing river with it's little muzzle and tongue, triangular ears like peaks of ash popping out from its fuzzy head. It reminded her distinctly of the raccoons in Stormwind City -- Beastly little critters, opportunistic and less than majestic when found riffling through trashes, but no less cuter than most cats.
She keeps walking, hoping the seventh snare would offer her an addition to her toll -- With no luck for her effort. Nor with the eight, not the ninth.... By the tenth snare she was dejected and doubting herself.
Was it so unlikely that she was wrong about this plan? Perhaps she should have pushed the snares closer or well into the forest, perhaps the river was too broad to vulnerability that the beasts would have been on high alert and avoiding anything unusual to the environment? Perhaps she was overthinking as usual.
The eleventh snare does well to wash away this building concern of having an uneventful morning -- Then she was introduced a new, chilling sensation which would freeze her spine and paralysis her. Even the hinny would snort, ears flying forward but standing utterly still to try and listen for the sound again.
The shattering of bone was an unmistakable sound, pointed deep reverberation that could be felt in the very bones of the listeners would be met with shuddering. There was an echoing of pain and discomfort reflected in it's noise, one which invoked fear. What followed next was quite unsettling, the primordial snarling of a hissing, spitting crocolisk who is roused to the challenge of being intruded upon. The reveal of the dark scales in the tall river grass would cause Jenny to rear and squeal before attempting to bolt. To the detriment of the soft skin of her hand Susan clutches to the lead rope to snap the hinny to her senses, the rope burn like acid against her flesh. It burnt as she clung on, but she was desperate to not lose the equid while also trying to mitigate the situation at hand.
The unlucky elder viseclaw had been ensnared by an extremity at some point in the night, making an easy meal for an early rising crocolisk. A broken carapace and severed claw lay out in the sun, the meat and blood licked clean from whatever flesh once clung to these pieces. The croc had been nuzzling the fused head of the crab, the beast long since dead... And there goes Susan trampling through, trespassing into the business of nature foolishly and without consideration, thoughts busied with unimportant issues.
However now that she realized her transgressions against nature, the hissing reptile charging would initiate the most logical thing she could think to do. She took off, sprinting toward the forest without hesitation.
Frantically she'd view the immediate surroundings for other inhabitants of this forest -- But there really wasn't much time to clock the surroundings. The idea of confronting and deterring the coldblooded beast in her wake just didn't seem logical, better to disengage and hope the creature would return focus back to it's kill. Which is exactly what happens, the massive, bloody predator shambling around to scuttle to it's meal. But by god did the woman not hustle her ass pass the tree line, barreling through the woods without hope of slowing yet, the hinny keeping pace and just as eager to bolt first and ask questions later.
When she slows is at a point where the forest becomes unrecognizable, land marks lost. She pauses, her chest heaving with effort to try and catch her breath. Her eyes flit around then, glancing to and fro to monitor for movement in their little section of the deep woods. The occasional bug might catch her gaze, giant colorful beetles, emperor moth larvae and small wasps remained a frequent sight. Even the odd adder species would slither through, the whole time she couldn't but notice her equid's building tension -- She would aim to distract the beast with soothing words, pushing them forward to start rounding around to a more familiar path. This redirection of attention worked, allowing them to fall back into a quiet morning walk. They couldn't be too far off, and it was in her favor that Susan wasn't totally devoid of a sense of direction.
Above all else she tried to remain calm. Things had been abit rocky thus far, but she wasn't maimed or dead yet. That was something to pride.
The forest was abuzz with life, but for now she and her companion were quite unwilling to linger and monitor the conservation of the land. Right now she was seeking to decrease any potentiality of getting caught up in another kerfuffle -- Their feathers were ruffled enough. She was taking extra care to keep her ears and eyes open, forcing her mind to hush or else risking crossing nature in action.
It was as they were stumbling back into familiar territory (altered points of view in areas she had visited the last two times), her attention keeping proved worthwhile. Sharp eyes turn, offended hand still burning, relieved of her pain when her secondary hand takes up clutching desperately to the lead rope. Still, her hurt hand trembles under the pressure of the pain. Ears were picking up on a stir in the forest behind her. A cry is heard in the distance, something so soft it barely rose above the volume of the crickets.
Is this worth getting involved in? She was already responsible for the senseless death of a molting crab, she didn't want to disturb or alter the natural flow of life any more unnecessarily than she has... But something compelled her to check.
The lead is tied off with a quick release knot, Jenny left momentarily; Though Susan ensured the hinny was always in view whilst following the cries deeper into the forest. She was walking carefully and slowly in the direction of the stirring, avoiding too many leaves or fallen sticks beneath her weight to not elude to her presence. Two large trees stood between her and the producer of such a haunting sound, so close in the end it allowed her to quickly make decisions: A woman, frazzled, her hair and hiking gear a mess with blood, her hands clutching to her leg which carried large claw marks raking down her thigh. Blood poured profusely from her wound staining her sensible hiking pants.
Susan could feel herself hesitate. Instantly the memory of one particular rule during this hunting event came to mind:
Help your fellow person if they are wounded, lost, hindered or indisposed. These forests can be unforgiving.
Bitter was the taste in Susan's mouth, her suspicion of the likeliness to this woman being lost so deep in these woods. What was her purpose being out here? This wonder was preventing her from wanting to engage entirely. But then a vision interrupted her entirely, memories of the past with little instances of kindess shown to herself flashing through her mind. Times where people were willing to lend their hand for the benefit of her, a woman abused and bitter -- Why shouldn't she extend that same reprieve to someone?
Because it didn't feel right.
A valid if not callous sentiment.
While those policies set in place were based off an honor code, Susan couldn't bring herself to start disrespecting the game this far into it. With a soft sigh through her nose she'd trample forward, intending for her heavy foot falls to alert the party of her presence. Naturally, a reaction. The woman bolts upright to try and flee, just to promptly crumble, victim to the languishment from her lacerations. The stranger's strength was gone, but her conviction was fiery as she confronts the Madam with a wild, desperate stare to her eye. There was something accusartory in her gaze. But the sad truth was, she was completely at Susan's mercy, and they both knew it.
Too familiar. Something about this short haired woman was too familiar -- But Susan couldn't decipher how just yet. Perhaps it was as simple as she had one of those faces as she was human. Freckled and pale skinned, likely due to her wounds, with eyes a dark brown. Unreadable. Stand offish. Honestly, Susan felt like it was looking into the mirror in terms of distrust.
"D-Don't you come closer!" The woman accuses, only to flinch and gasp in agony while trying to apply heavy pressure to her wounds. To this the Madam scoffs and buries a hand into a bag hanging off her utility belt. Without a care Susan crosses closer to the woman, certain she was no threat and only reactionary from fear of her vulnerability.
A lap sponge would be pressed into the wound with just enough pressure to restrict blood flow without impeding clotting factors.
"Shut the fuck up," Susan whispers harshly, "Your blood will attract animals enough, whining and crying like a wounded animal will only make it that much quicker."
Following this advice the woman fell silent, her expression hardened and eyes just as suspicious as Susan's. The little blonde before her held steadfast to something, Susan could appreciate the effort to conserve her dignity -- Or was the stranger doing this all to conceal something nefarious?
Susan truly couldn't help it. She was never a woman who believed in coincidences. Were this just a tragic misunderstanding or a connection to humanity Susan was struggling to notice, it wasn't something she was meant to know yet.
"Time will tell," the Madam voices. Whether this a reference to her concerns of the woman or the woman's prognosis over all, it was unknowable. In the end Susan would pause to wrap the leg as best she could to maintain that pressure required to support the process. Already the blood flow had slowed, and it seemed just in the nick of time. Susan had no plans to leave a smelly trail directly back to camp.
With careful gestures for the woman to follow, Susan would slip herself under the arm on her better side, offering support so the blonde could hobble along, keeping all her weight off the bum leg.
Like that, with Susan carrying the majority of this battered maiden's weight, she would lead her back to camp with every intention to help; Never quite able to shake the pit growing in her stomach the longer the woman stayed in her accompaniment. The hinny would snort nervously when she approaches, especially when the woman pauses and startles at the site of two looming beasts: Anthrel and Quin.
She had begun to squeal and dragging even her bad foot into the earth to revert their course, all to the struggle of Susan holding her back, expressing loudly and with sharp criticism, "Okay, okay! Don't start doing that shit when actual problems turn about!"
The woman falls short in her astonishment of Susan's otherwise remarkably calm composure, suspicious eyes moving toward the tigers who remained unbothered by the outburst. Annoyed, even, much like their Madam.
"If a true wild beast comes around you let me decide how to handle it. You focus on not bleeding out. After all, it's just one of us who's out of their fuckin' league here."
The convoy commenced, big cats on the outer most edge of the collective, applying the pressure of intimidation and their prowess to benefit the more vulnerable through detering other beasts with their presence. Jenny and Susan walked with the wounded woman directly between them, making haste through the woods and past the encompassing blanket of the tree line. The darkness of the woods are instantly flooded out by the bright blue skies and noon sun. A life source crested over the mound before them, the river bed and slow moving waters coming into view. The best directional land mark of them all. Without hesitation Susan directs the party upwind and against the river flow, fully intended to see the entire crew back to camp as quickly as they could.
A bitter beginning to the day. A waste, Susan might say, were it not for the remaining snares being checked on the way back, revealing two meaty rabbits and a particularly lively terrapin snapper. It's after a sharp bite from it's beak against her pinkie that she'd swear and cuss, swearing to not return the creature. Instead savoring how it'd make a fabulous turtle stew later in the evening.
Still, with unwanted company, the haul was more than Susan bargained for.
