Post by Magda on Aug 28, 2009 16:40:29 GMT -5
The night was still, and upon the hill-ridge Magda could turn and look down upon the massive expanse of the city below. The dew-slicked grass whispered and rustled underfoot as she walked, the air was still, devoid of any breeze. Scents on the air rose and settled instead of lifting and being carried by the wind. This would hinder a hunt, she knew, but it was also very fortunate for Magda, who would not be detected by the wildlife here.
The night was quiet and beautiful. If she’d been given the time Magda would have liked to spread her jacket across the moist grass and sit on the hill slopes all night, thinking, considering, and mulling things over in her mind. Maybe she’d be joined by a fellow wolf who detected or recognised her scent, or another creature looking for a fight, and then she would perhaps return home with a black eye, a bust lip, and a silver bullet in her chest.
No, Magda didn’t want that. All she wanted was a quiet night hunting, then to return with a rabbit or two back home. Although Magda suspected that after civilisation had collapsed, deer and other prey had moved into the area too. Good news for Wolves.
She kept walking, her face hooded by black cloth and her body protected by leather and denim jeans. Her pale hands were stuffed into her jacket pockets, her alabaster face bowed against the darkness, afraid that her moon-bleached white skin would betray her presence to anyone who was already in the fields.
The slope began to even out, the earth becoming flat and for a moment Magda tipped back her head and scented at the air, making sure she and her prey were very alone. So, satisfied, she stripped off the leather jacket and hung it in the low branches of a silver birch tree on the very edge of the woods. Next came her sweater, boots, jeans, shirt and weapons. She stowed the latter in the very topmost branches of the tree, so that they wouldn’t be reached easily. She nibbled at her bottom lip, not trusting everyone else in the world not to make off with them. Naked as the day she was born, she glanced down the hillside, seeing the spider-web of dim lights below her. Once she’d looked down to see a city full of life and wonder. Now it was lit with candles and gas lamps, barely visible against the darkness. It was a cobweb strung with thousands of illuminated droplets. It was a barely noticeable signature of humanity. It was a dead urban landscape slowly being lost to Mother Nature.
Magda shook her hair down over her shoulders. The warm, heavy weight of it made her feel a fraction less vulnerable, but she’d been naked in utter darkness before. Once in a cellar filled with boxes, once in an alleyway next to her bike, and one in a field under a terrifying full moon. Magdalene wasn’t afraid anymore. The wolf she became, the one with amber eyes and shining fur was as much Magda as the woman with raven hair, porcelain skin and green eyes.
She let out a breath, and just as easily, she shifted. Her spinal column extended to allow a furry tail. Hands became paws, ears relocated to the top of her head. It was bizarre to watch to any inexperienced Werewolf or non-Lycanthrope, but to those who had undergone the change as many times as she had and more, it was as natural as blinking, breathing. It was as normal as sneezing. The metamorphosis was no longer painful, but merely sensational, and within moments the she-wolf stood where Magdalene had done a few seconds before. A she-wolf with ivory and dove grey fur and a familiar burning gold stare. The Lycaness stretched out, wagging that pale-furred tail in barely containable enthusiasm. She yapped quietly, happily, so glad so be back in that primal form, the animal figure that had no worries, no responsibility.
She glanced back at the city and figured she could spare a moment. Parking her hindquarters where she stood, Magda looked down upon the city, her auric eyes making out the faint streets and signatures of life. She tossed back her head and howled. As usual the sound was high and mournful - nothing she could help - but it was also crammed with joy, brimming with unadulterated happiness at being free. There was nothing to stop her, nothing to contain her, and that was the very feeling hundreds of wolves would kill for.
The wolf stood up again, shook off her fur. It was time to be serious. It was time to hunt.
The night was quiet and beautiful. If she’d been given the time Magda would have liked to spread her jacket across the moist grass and sit on the hill slopes all night, thinking, considering, and mulling things over in her mind. Maybe she’d be joined by a fellow wolf who detected or recognised her scent, or another creature looking for a fight, and then she would perhaps return home with a black eye, a bust lip, and a silver bullet in her chest.
No, Magda didn’t want that. All she wanted was a quiet night hunting, then to return with a rabbit or two back home. Although Magda suspected that after civilisation had collapsed, deer and other prey had moved into the area too. Good news for Wolves.
She kept walking, her face hooded by black cloth and her body protected by leather and denim jeans. Her pale hands were stuffed into her jacket pockets, her alabaster face bowed against the darkness, afraid that her moon-bleached white skin would betray her presence to anyone who was already in the fields.
The slope began to even out, the earth becoming flat and for a moment Magda tipped back her head and scented at the air, making sure she and her prey were very alone. So, satisfied, she stripped off the leather jacket and hung it in the low branches of a silver birch tree on the very edge of the woods. Next came her sweater, boots, jeans, shirt and weapons. She stowed the latter in the very topmost branches of the tree, so that they wouldn’t be reached easily. She nibbled at her bottom lip, not trusting everyone else in the world not to make off with them. Naked as the day she was born, she glanced down the hillside, seeing the spider-web of dim lights below her. Once she’d looked down to see a city full of life and wonder. Now it was lit with candles and gas lamps, barely visible against the darkness. It was a cobweb strung with thousands of illuminated droplets. It was a barely noticeable signature of humanity. It was a dead urban landscape slowly being lost to Mother Nature.
Magda shook her hair down over her shoulders. The warm, heavy weight of it made her feel a fraction less vulnerable, but she’d been naked in utter darkness before. Once in a cellar filled with boxes, once in an alleyway next to her bike, and one in a field under a terrifying full moon. Magdalene wasn’t afraid anymore. The wolf she became, the one with amber eyes and shining fur was as much Magda as the woman with raven hair, porcelain skin and green eyes.
She let out a breath, and just as easily, she shifted. Her spinal column extended to allow a furry tail. Hands became paws, ears relocated to the top of her head. It was bizarre to watch to any inexperienced Werewolf or non-Lycanthrope, but to those who had undergone the change as many times as she had and more, it was as natural as blinking, breathing. It was as normal as sneezing. The metamorphosis was no longer painful, but merely sensational, and within moments the she-wolf stood where Magdalene had done a few seconds before. A she-wolf with ivory and dove grey fur and a familiar burning gold stare. The Lycaness stretched out, wagging that pale-furred tail in barely containable enthusiasm. She yapped quietly, happily, so glad so be back in that primal form, the animal figure that had no worries, no responsibility.
She glanced back at the city and figured she could spare a moment. Parking her hindquarters where she stood, Magda looked down upon the city, her auric eyes making out the faint streets and signatures of life. She tossed back her head and howled. As usual the sound was high and mournful - nothing she could help - but it was also crammed with joy, brimming with unadulterated happiness at being free. There was nothing to stop her, nothing to contain her, and that was the very feeling hundreds of wolves would kill for.
The wolf stood up again, shook off her fur. It was time to be serious. It was time to hunt.