The dew on the grass is still wet. The sun is just beginning to rise above the horizon, poking its rays in through the holes in your home. You roll over, trying to get another few minutes of sleep before the tribe begins to come alive. You're on the verge of drifting off once more, only to be awoken by the noise of steps veering around your home. You know who it is. It's Nasha, and she's being her punctilious self once again. Be the early bird, dear. she'll say. There's a knocking at your door and you roll over to meet it, in turn seeing that distinct tan form grinning down at you. "Come on Brume, you and I haven't had something nice in days." she rolls off. It's been two, not that you're counting.
You rub your eyes, and with a bit of groaning, get up. Your furry skirt has hay stuck in it from your bed, your earhair is fluffed up and in need of grooming. Such is the burden of being a Delphox. Nasha steps inside your home and helps clean you up, pressing you close to her posh body in the process. "Still can't convince you to cover up, can I?"
She gives you a wry smirk. "You know the guys prefer it this way. And it's not like you wear anything, either." Because I'm not a walking obscenity. Nasha is a Persian girl, her naturally short fur does nothing to help with being modest. Much like yourself, she doesn't have a mate. It has nothing to do with who she is, it's the simple fact that there's a shortage. The males used to do all the hunting, and unfortunately the ferals would occasionally pick one off, after years upon years of this it's had its toll on the village. Still the curvy feline tries, even if it means flirting with the married. It's always a "no", and at this point, she may just do it for the attention. "Let's get going, now. I'd like to beat the official hunting parties out." She beckons, and you follow her outside.
The town is surrounded by a palisade, one you, along with much of the town, built. It was made out of necessity, years back a pack of ferals would attack at night and retreat before anyone could retaliate effectively. They've been put down since then, but the wooden walls still stand as a weary reminder. As a Delphox, you've had an unusual affinity with wooden things, and when not entertaining Nasha you'll be the one tending to the houses throughout the village. You'd like to think the trait came about from the palisade construction, but when you were younger, you could always be found playing with sticks and twigs. As you grew that habit was forced out of you, and nowadays you can't help but feel like something is missing.
You make your way to the gate where the watchman is sitting outside, drooling over himself in sleep. Nasha stops, nudges him awake, and nearly pushes herself onto him in the process. You roll your eyes and wait for her to be done. Her little show gives you time to think about where to go next for food. For one, there's traps that haven't been checked in a while. Said traps are primarily snares for small prey, but there's an occasional noose trap and those garner the big stuff. You, you'd much prefer something small, something to just get you by. Eating the little critters doesn't bother you, there's hundreds of them and they hardly think and feel. But the larger ones, well, you've never had one. The closest you've been to the larger ferals has always been watching a hunter's stomach bulge with one inside. One such predator was a Mightyena, and he walked into town tongue lolling out and moaning, blatantly showing off his catch. You couldn't make out what was inside of him, but you could see it squirm and struggle. It was in pain, it was swallowed whole and alive, digesting away inside of him. Whereas the Mightyena, he was bliss struck, enjoying every little sensation his prey provided. Since then you've been awfully mixed with big meals. Part of you wants to try it, experience that... pleasure, and part of you is sympathetic to them. You've mentioned such feelings to Nasha and she's quick to remind you what happens when you're kind to a feral -- you end up being that squirming bulge instead.
Speaking of the Persian girl, the watchman is beginning to pick up on her playing. That means she's almost done. She'll want to go on a real hunt, show you the basics of it. She's offered multiple times and you've turned them all down -- even to this day, you've never been on a legitimate hunt. Apparently, Nasha is remarkable at stalking her prey. She looks for horned ones in particular, as their remains fetch among the highest prices on the market. The market is fueled by those that have lost someone to the ferals and they'll happily provide rewards for trophies of the creatures.
Nasha is scurrying her way over to you, the poor male finally managed to shoo her away. Eagerly, she says, "Are you ready, Brume? As always, I'd be happy to take you along and track something; else if you want to do the usual and check on your traps -- I won't mind. That's quick and easy. What would you like to do?"
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
