Connect the Dots [Claiming]

[Rouge]

R O U G E

Gold against gold was oftentimes something that was invisible to the naked eye. It was often a blending of the color, mixed between fur and grass, that caused this rather interesting occurrence, though there were times when gold against gold was something easy to be seen.

Now was one of those times.

Walking easily through the grasses, which nearly covered her up to the highest point of her shoulders was a single Golden Jackal. Her steps weren’t quite sure, paws falling to the earth in what could only be termed a lope, though the femme looked almost thin, and sickly to boot, as though she’d been running for quite some time, and only now begun to slow herself down. Her pelt, of course, was like most of her kin; a bright, tawny-gold color, a straight back, a long tail. Her face was angular, both ears high atop her head, and perfectly formed. A nose, delicately petite, was held against the wind, as she sniffed once again, as though she didn’t truly believe with the organ was telling her.

If it could be believed, this pretty, pretty place hadn’t yet been claimed. But that simply couldn’t be true! Walking along a thin slip of a stream, she paused, glancing at a Cayman, which stared back balefully.

“You. Good food would you make.” He lifted his head from the water, fixing her with one swampy eye, unblinking. She took a step back, on her guard. “But you eating would make not herds come back.” Both ears shifted forward, and she narrowed her eyes to fix him with a steely stare, which he responded to with a ‘blink’ of one eye. “You fear me should. I Cayman am.” She didn’t move. Calmcalmcalm. She became a living portrait of Anubis, her eyes unblinking as they stared at the Cayman. This was the gaze of a goddess, and he blinked again. “You worth my time are not. I go. Seek elsewhere food.” And with that, the ugly creature moved, which caused her to sigh as she looked around again. She was in a rather good-sized valley, where this small tributary flowed like liquid silver, snaking its way across as far as the eye could see, where it faded into nothingness. Nearby was a small copse of trees, just large enough to make a fine den area… just like her own birth den had been.

Shaking her head, she began to trot along the borders of the trees, occasionally stopping to mark her territory. She rubbed her face in things. She scratched the ground. She used the gland on her tail. She moved out of her small valley and to the borders of this land, where the grasses were so tall and thick a Jackal could get lost in them. And here, she let loose on everything, the implication quite clear.

Mine.

This is mine.

Once finished, she trotted back to the area she had claimed for the den site. Hopefully, she would get a nice, handsome male Jackal to come and be with her… someone like her father, Darkback. But, even if this didn’t happen, she would need a den. It was simply in the nature of her breed to do so. Jackals were a pack breed, their pack mostly consisting of family, though she could, if needed, accept others of her order. Anything to not be alone any longer.

Leaping onto a rather small, and oddly-shaped rock, she looked over her newly-claimed territory. Beautiful. It was absolutely beautiful. And it was hers. With a glimmer of pride, she tilted her head back, yipping out a Jackal’s howl. This was a call for redemption.

“We all know, no need to remind us.
We all know, but won’t connect the dots.
We all know, locked away inside us;
We are DYING for tomorrow- We are LIVING for today!”

[Thistle]

t h i s t l e

Tiny paws fidgeted and kicked as the kit dreamed. A terrifying beast was chasing him, one made completely of sand with ginormous, bloodthirsty crimson eyes and stale breath that smelled of rotten wood and hissed like the frenzied whir of a thousand hungry flies. This terrible Sand Monster had haunted his dreams since the storm had separated him from his family.

Some had called him a monster. True, he had always been a pesky little creature, always up to mischief and antagonizing his siblings. Their little family had been quaint and Thistle had proven to be more than a handful from the day he had opened his eyes. Of course his parents worried. Father made no effort to hide his disgust, and mother treated him like a sticky mess that she dreaded having to clean. He was a burden. Had they ever really loved him? Were they relieved the storm had caused their separation? Or had they used it as an alibi to abandon him?

Poor, impressionable Thistle chose to believe the last. They had hated him, and left him at the mercy of the sand. While he had no perceptions of fate or destiny, it seemed Mother Nature had taken pity on his young soul and sent him away to, maybe, a gentler doom. Now, his chances of survival were slim to none. He would probably be gobbled up any day now by a scrawny lion or a mangy hyena. At least it would be a quicker death than asphyxiation from a snout full of dirt.

In his dream, the terrible Sand Monster was cackling. Or choking. Yipping? No, it couldn't be... Thistle's pseudo-satellite ears pivoted and he woke, blinking groggy, honey-brown eyes as he registered a sound rising from somewhere in the prairie. It seemed to belong to some sort of canine, though species didn't matter. The young fox would give anything to find companionship, or at least a family that would love him. And if not, then perhaps he could find some way to stir up mischief.

Off he went, short little legs working with a mechanical rapidity. His head was in constant motion, always canting to listen and be sure he was on the right path, or turning to make sure a larger predator hadn't targeted him as a potential meal. Nothing but his ears stuck out over the tops of the inches-long grass, though soon even those would be engulfed as he treaded deeper into the valley. Naturally, this meant he couldn't see very well. And his paranoia would not allow for extreme concentration on any one task. So it was no surprise, really, when he collided headlong into a rock.

"Oof!" It escaped his tiny maw in a high-pitched squeak as he stumbled backwards onto his rump, long tail zigzagging to a halt behind him. The kit whined as he pawed at his throbbing cheek, having had his head turned during the crash. Peeking up through the grass, he saw a vast expanse of blue sky... and then a looming shadow. A colossal (well, to him) figure towered above him, reclined on the rock as if it were a throne.

"Oh, oh, uhm... I'm s-sowwy. I din't mean ta hurt your wock..." Obviously, he had trouble pronouncing his 'r's. Big, round eyes brimming with tears which he had bravely suppressed, he stared into the jackal Queen's face, hoping to find some warmth there.

[Rouge]

R O U G E

She sat on her rock quietly, bright, amber-brown eyes looking around with an almost gentle expression, staring out over the sun-kissed grasses of her new home with a glimmer of pride. Sighing, she laid down, legs crossed neatly at the ankle, her head held high. Her bushy tail swung around her, and she glanced at the slightly-fluffed tip, which moved upwards once, like the tail of some great feline, before settling into a pose of calm serenity. A slight smile touched her maw then, and she listened to the song created by the wind rushing over the branches overhead, rustling the drying leaves.

Unbeknownst to her, something had, indeed, heard her call, and begun its descent towards her. Had she known, perhaps, she could not have been on edge as she was when, a few moments later, the swaying of grass was added into the music, weaving in its own sort of melody. It was an earthy sound, more humble, perhaps, than the lofty rhythm the trees made, but it was also not in time to the wind any longer. Both ears shot forward, and each muscle tensed up, preparing for a fight.

Rustle.

Rustle.

"Oof!" A tiny voice squeaked as she felt a slight tremor, as the being which had just spoken collided headlong into the rock beneath her. Curious now, she put out one paw and gently bent the grass back to allow her an unobstructed view of what was now sitting on its backside in the grass, looking up with large eyes. Curious. It had ears that looked impossibly large for its diminutive size, a long tail… It was a… fox? But it was also obviously a kit, and the Queen felt herself beginning to relax, a smile coming to her face as the little kit looked up at her, stammering an apology. "Oh, oh, uhm... I'm s-sowwy. I din't mean ta hurt your wock..."

“It’s okay, little one.” She stepped down gracefully, giving him a kind smile. She gestured to the rock, giving it a lick, just for show. That had always amused her younger siblings, and then, more often than not, they themselves would want her to ‘kiss and make better’, or, in the case of her youngest sister, ‘big love kisskiss’. “See? All better!” She glanced about once again, sniffed the wind. There was no other fox in the vicinity. The kit was alone, and she felt a stirring pity in her heart. Poor baby.

“I’m Rou… what’s your name, little one?”

[Thistle]

t h i s t l e

She was smiling. That was always a good sign, unless she was just being a good actress. The little fennec couldn't help but grin lopsidedly back at her, his tail twitching in a tentative wag. He giggled when she licked the rock, but was, as usual, too macho to ask for the same treatment. One thing about him had changed, however. He felt no pressing urge to annoy this lovely jackal. She had received him without hesitation, and was showing him the warmth that his own mother had lacked. A fact then became set in stone: he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

"Hi Woo," he chirped, feeling cheerful now. "My name's Sissle... Sthiss.. Thistle. Yeah, that's the one. My pawents said caring for me was like twimming a, a sthissle bush. But the Sand Monster ate them, so I got no one now...” His tone was more dejected than truly sorry. Long, overlarge ears spun to attention though as a ladybug landed between his eyes. He scrunched his nose, crossed his eyes, and sneezed as a result, startling it into flight.

“Is nice here,” he commented randomly afterwards, tilting his tiny head back to stare in awe at the spattering of trees nearby. They didn’t have those in the desert, nope. Then, reverting his attention to Rou, he asked, cautiously, “You not gonna eat me, wight Woo? You weally purdy...” he added, as if to sweeten her to the idea of not having him for lunch, though reasonably he could have deduced that she wasn’t the type to go around gobbling up kits.