Audi, Vide, Tace [Thistle]

[Thirteenth]

[bg=000000][atrb=border,0,true] It was cold. The kind of lingering cold that clung to one’s bones even after they had sought out the warmth of shelter; the kind of cold that Dagonet would have hated if he thought weather were worth the emotion. As it was, he simply ducked his head against the icy wind, feeling as though his eyeballs would freeze if he looked directly into one of the whistling gales. Each freezing breath burned his throat and lungs, each exhalation crystallized into powdery clouds around his muzzle before dispersing into the cold. Fat snowflakes began first to float and then to flood downward on the wind. One of the light, fluffy flakes alighted on the tip of the wolf’s nose, covering it completely for a moment before it was blown away. Soon the mountains blurred behind the steady falling flakes of snow, but despite being on unfamiliar terrain Dagonet’s pace never faltered as he picked his way up the precipitous slope leading to the mountain’s summit. Only a few minutes passed before the sizable snowflakes began to dust the ground and accumulate in piles against the many boulders littering the incline. It’s going to be a bitch of a winter at this rate, the handsomely scarred wolf thought while leaping lightly on top of the large rock in his path. He padded down the other side, then continued along a straight path. “I should’ve found a warmer place to take up in,” Dagonet grumbled under his breath, though he was fairly content with his life in The Order thus far. Adjusting had not taken long, and he found his fellow pack mates to be tolerable if not generally agreeable. Truthfully, he felt content for what was probably the first time since he and his brothers had been informed of the blood debt that shackled his family. It was ironic, though, that he had survived all those years solely to return home; and then upon finally earning his freedom he had chosen not to go back to his family. Instead he had taken up with another army, another war. As though he hadn’t already seen his fair share of bloodshed and sheer brutality; but that was the problem. He knew too much of it. Dagonet only had faint memories of the pack that had born him. Names had long faded and faces had begun to blur. He remembered his father’s face with striking clarity, perhaps only because he himself bore such a remarkable resemblance to Trivsten. How many times in his youth had his mother observed that he could have been his father’s twin for all their similitude? Dagonet felt a sudden, unexpectedly sharp twinge deep in his chest; even if he were to go back to the sloping plains that had born him, Asla would never speak those words again. Nor would his grandparents. A terrible silence that would never be broken. Dagonet suffered more guilt over the fact that he didn’t particularly care than he did over the fact itself. Distance didn’t really make the heart grow fonder; it just made it forget. Ties of emotion, while they may have been the strongest of bonds when fed, were easily starved to the breaking point. Such thoughts kept the warrior well occupied until, suddenly, he crested the summit and suddenly found himself at the edge of a sheer cliff face. Halting in his tracks, Dagonet’s gaze lifted to observe the sprawling, snow powdered scene below. Fat white flakes of snow still floated from the clouds, but not as heavily, and the wind had momentarily begun to fail. Now that he had arrived, the tall wolf settled to his haunches and coiled his tail around his paws. There hadn’t been any particular reasoning behind his decision to climb all the way up there. It had simply struck his fancy to do so. “Well now what?” Dagonet asked aloud though there was no one there to answer, his words tapering off into a massive yawn. Kneading the cold earth beneath his paws, Dagonet rolled his shoulders, stretching his forelegs slowly out before himself as he dropped to his belly. With massive paws hanging limply over the edge of the cliff, the male yawned again, shifting his bulk to settle himself in. From his vantage point the mountain range rambled along beneath him, and he had a portrait view of several waterfalls cascading from other points. A rare moment of utter peace settled around him and Dagonet almost smiled as he enjoyed the serenity of the snowfall, free of the tension that seemed to grip all of Traum in face of the coming war.

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[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] A storm was brewing, without and within. The sky above was an unpleasant mixture of blank white and ominous grays, scraping the eyes with their harshness, remote and mute. The wind was closer, and certainly more personal, blasting its way around rocks and craggies, screaming as it was forced through thin cracks in the mountainside and between the needles of warped and twisted pines. The wind turned Idris's fur into a flashing stream of browns, the guard hairs darkened by body-heat-melted snow from mahogany to nearly charcoal, the lighter chestnut underfur keeping its color as it kept in her warmth. Most of it, anyway. Idris had plenty of internal fuel to stoke her energies. That had to be the only reason she'd lunged up into these forbidding hills, so unlike the tranquil, autumnal golds of her home. She wanted the outside to resemble the inside, and staying in that valley, where she had once had peace, where she had almost had it again, only rubbed salt into her wounds. She had built herself a wall of ice to hide her hurt behind, and lived with it for two years, allowing through only the active feelings--the anger, the thirst for vengeance, the driving power that kept her moving until she'd found Serena and the Realm of Warriors. She had used the memory of her lost ones to guide her, but not to love them. Until she had met that strange foreigner. Lakiya. Tiny, like a thorn in the paw, but just like a thorn she had wormed her way in and kept smarting, reminding Idris. She had broken down the wall with one simple gesture, but left before Idris could gather herself back up from the flood. Now she drowned and burned anew, and once again, alone. The green feather of her order whipped in front of her eyes, and she paused to toss her head impatiently, throwing it back, where it stuck in her dampened coat. Her vision cleared, and she froze. Very well camouflaged in the gray-black-white of the wintry landscape was a wolf, lounging on the cliff's edge with his paws dangling down, as if he was comfortably in a warm den. She was within several feet of him, but she could see nothing from her angle but his hindquarters and the back of his head. Idris hesitated, a certain quiet focus settling on her as a task presented itself. She was charged with patrolling the lands while the Realm gathered itself for battle, both to guard and welcome potential friends and accost enemies. Her first thought was to attack without warning. They were near Order territory, and it was the perfect opportunity--he was precariously perched with nowhere to go, and her momentum alone could send him down, provided she kept her own balance. But she had a duty to more than her own desire for vengeance. She had also sworn to protect and serve. This stranger could very well be a loner, a Renegade wandering far, even a member of the Realm she had not yet met. She would have to be civil at least. At first. Idris adopted a strong stance, legs a stable shoulder-width apart and firmly planted on the ground. Her tail was held out straight behind her, and her head was high, but not so high as to hinder her view; it was just above shoulder level on her thick, muscular neck, and her dark ears were tipped forward, despite the freezing wind and her own misgivings. Her tone was confident, but calmly neutral, just carrying in her low voice over the wind and weather. "What brings you here, stranger?"

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/redwatersmiddle.jpg] Frigid gusts of wind lashed against Dagonet as he rested on the edge of the cliff, watching as the scenery below began to vanish beneath a thick tapestry of white. Already a blanket of snow had built over his still form, clinging to his fur, melting against the heat of his body, then freezing again. He could feel the extra weight of the ice crystals forming on his pelt, prompting him to flex his muscles as though the action would warm him. The cold made his eyes sting, and after sometime the scarred warrior rested his head against a large paw and let his lids slide shut. He rested like this for some time, in a lucid state somewhere between sleep and awareness, listening vaguely to the winds howling forlornly through the jagged crags below. Only the icy bite of the cold surrounding and the subconscious knowledge that he was in unfamiliar territory prevented Dagonet from sliding into a deep state of rest. Even in such an isolated location, it was unsafe for one to let their guard down entirely. Especially if they were a member of The Order. Dragunov`s pack did not have many allies. It was, perhaps, the one thing that the scarred warrior had not taken into account before seeking to join the cause. His own ignorance was at fault this time; but even the best made mistakes. While he had staked out and scrutinized The Order for some time before joining, Dagonet later realized that he had failed to interact with others on the island to gain the perspective of their opinions about the pack. Not that it mattered much, really. Even if he had known before hand, chances were that Dagonet still would have cast his dice with Dragunov`s lot. There were only two truly military packs on Traum, and The Warriors were commanded by a female. Dagonet was suddenly disturbed by the sense that he was no longer alone on the summit. He couldn`t hear anything over the noise of the growing gales, and he was upwind which prevented him from catching scent of whoever might have been approaching; but he knew someone was there. He lifted his head, gazing into the white wall of snow and fog that filled the chasm below his paws. A minute or so passed in silence, and he still felt another presence; and then someone spoke. "What brings you here, stranger?" The large wolf`-goms ears twisted back towards the sound of the voice, and Dagonet felt an uneasy thrill run the length of his spine. Knowing that the odds of the strange female being a friend were against him, the warrior rose slowly to his feet and turned shallowly so that the raw mark on his chest was not visible as he navigated away from the cliff face. It wouldn`t have been very conducive to his survival if he made it so that she could simply shove him over. Climbing to the summit seemed like a good idea for some reason, he answered amiably after having sauntered a few feet to the left, effectively placing one of the massive stones scattered about between his back and the bluff,of course, that was before the storm began brewing. As he spoke Dagonet saw the feather that decorated the female and marked her allegiance. Go figure. He had been enjoying the serenity far too much. Now that there was something large and solid at his back Dagonet had no qualms about squaring around to allow the female to see what she was dealing with. He had the advantage of being on slightly higher ground, and if she attempted to attack him directly he would simply catch hold of her and use her own momentum to sling her over the edge to his left. However, the warrior had no intentions of starting a fight, for several reasons: it would have been senseless bloodshed, there was no one to witness if he let her go without a fight, and the storm encroaching on the mountains was threatening to turn into a full fledged white out. What about yourself, what brings you up here? he turned her question around conversationally, his cool gray eyes sliding over her, analyzing her. She was a masculine female, large enough for Dagonet to silently admit that she could potentially be a threat. Hopefully it won`t come to that, he thought, flicking his ear back and sending snowflakes flurrying into the air to be caught by the wind, damn inconvenient time for a brawl.

[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] There was a flicker of more earthly movement in the growing haze as two ears twitched back at the sound of her voice, then the clearer outlines of the male's head and neck emerged from the swirling in and out whiteness as he strained to see her. She saw him rise and move towards her, a patch of darker gray detaching itself from the rock face and drifting nearer--and also, she noted, away from the edge. Her eyes followed him, glowing a rich amber with tension and concentration, but she didn't move, didn't circle around in the opposite direction. No sense in putting herself at the edge instead. "Climbing to the summit seemed like a good idea for some reason." Idris snorted, a dragon-like burst of steamy breath marking it. "Then we have something in common, at least," she said dryly, beginning to follow him with her head and neck as well, though her body remained planted. She could feel small drifts of snow beginning to form little hillocks around her paws, and beneath them the rock was cold and growing wet beneath her bare pads. She didn't shiver. These things were immaterial. Of course, that was before the storm began brewing. Another snort, and she nodded, giving a quick glare towards the now almost indistinguishable landscape the brute had been gazing at earlier, wondering if any of the lands below were more temperate now. She switched her look back to him, a small, wry smile on one side of her muzzle, hesitant, but there. "It takes two kinds of crazy to drive a wolf out in...a...storm......" Idris trailed off. The wolf had gotten himself a large boulder to stand before, and turned, exposing the raw, ugly lines that she recognized as her only true opponent in the world. As suddenly as a sapling springing back when it's pulled, she whirled her body around to face him fully, shuffling several steps down hill--not to retreat, but to keep herself as far from that vulnerable cliff as possible, and as close to a feasible angle of attack if need be. "ORDER MURDERER!" A savage, ferocious snarl ripped out of her muzzle, white teeth bared in a dripping, black-gummed display, their longest tips yellow with years of first blood. Her ears were pinned back to her head, and even in the wind that pushed against her pelt her hackles were raised, creating a maned effect over her shoulders and ruff. A long, continuous growl rumbled in her chest after the first snarl, underlying her words like war drums as she spoke again. "Are you scouting so soon?" she spat. "What you've already taken wasn't enough? Her eyes positively blazed, now, stark against her slowly dripping outer coat like bright hot embers amidst old coals. She trembled in her fury and her efforts to restrain herself, pushing her legs into the ground as she tensed her muscles, bracing against her own inner momentum. It would not do to simply attack him outright. They were not at war--not quite yet, no matter how close it loomed. She had to remember the creed she had agreed to when swearing fealty to the Warriors. She, Idris, was a representative of powerful good, not simply of power, and had to behave as such. She licked her lips and clenched her jaw, waiting for him to explain himself. ((OOC: FUN! I'm interested to see where this goes...don't worry, it can still go somewhere other than fighting. :) ))

[Thirteenth]

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[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] The cold-blooded Order wolf was apparently unmoved by her recognition of his cursed sign. That wasn't terribly surprising. She didn't suppose a wolf could be part of that operation and still feel the way other wolves did. His only reaction was a twitch upward of one lip, almost foppishly aristocratic, that made her dig her claws further downward into the unforgiving rock. “I hardly deserve such accusations,” he said calmly, as if on some level any of those things would have been beneath him. Idris raised her eyebrows briefly from their angry furrow, skeptical and slightly surprised. Perhaps he was new to the Order. Perhaps the arrogant old boy didn't even know what he'd signed up for. He was speaking again, though, and she quickly lowered her brow again as the wind made her eyes sting, squinting against her cold-whipped tears and the snow-laden air to make out his shape. “Like I said, cresting the summit seemed like a good idea before the storm blew in." Idris grunted. "Be that as it may, your people still have a lot to answer for," she said, sullenly, though trying to pitch her voice to carry over the mounting storm. That storm was becoming a significant problem. Aside from the fact that growling a low threat sounded ridiculous when shouted, the way up hadn't been a stroll through a meadow. What had begun as a delicate, dreamy drifting of snowflakes had by now turned into the early stages of an outright blizzard. Tawny-red eyes stared hard at the Order wolf. He didn't seem particularly inclined to attack. Nevertheless, she hunched herself down into a defensive posture, rear legs low to the ground but stronger for it. If he did leap at her, they'd both have a downward slide on the slope of the rise. With that in mind, she risked a quick look back at the way she'd come. The look was not heartening. The blasts of nearly opaque wind would have been bad enough, but in the moments of clarity between them, drifts of snow were visible, moving in an ominously sentient way, crawling slowly and malevolently across the landscape. Idris remembered any number of tricky dips, loose stones, and precariously perched pines on the route, obstacles that were hardly a challenge in decent weather, but obscured by this wintry mess would be nearly lethal. What was more, the damp, rocky face was almost certain to be slick with ice. She turned her head sharply back to the brute. Her way down wasn't an option. Then again, neither was staying exposed at the top of the rise. The cold was finally penetrating through her battle fury. As much as she wanted to tear down the symbol of the Order that stood before her, he looked to be a decent match, and she didn't fancy her chances of surviving at the top if she was weakened by a fight. Her eyes met his, fierce still, but also practical and bitterly determined. Hopefully he could also see the situation. "Alright, Order wolf. Both of us dying won't help either of us. You know another way down?"

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/redwatersmiddle.jpg] Be that as it may, your people still have a lot to answer for, he heard her forcing the growled words to carry over the pitch of the lashing winds. One ear flipping back dismissively, the great wolf`s shoulders shrugged upwards, causing muscle to ripple beneath his thick pelt, And who are you to judge of that? Dagonet snorted, We are not all guilty of the crimes of our fellows. If she wanted to get into the semantics of the matter, her own pack had plenty to answer for. Traum`s valiant babysitters, imposing themselves on the natural order of the world as though it was their right to do so; and Serena had all but bedded down with Kirill. Murders and defilers down to the last pup, his lot. And as it was, in the event that the alliance did win out in the end, The Realm of Warriors and Lucifer`s Family would eventually forget their union and turn on one another like starving dogs. This was not something that could easily be denied. Fact of the matter was that-whatever the reasons and however tentative-Serena had taken alliance with Lucifer`s Family. They claimed they fought to defend freedom; but the illusion that was freedom only extended so far. No one who truly had freedom in their interests would have taken up with murderers; murder was the deepest denial of freedom. Nor would they take it upon themselves to police the world. The way Dagonet had come to see it, Serena and The Realm of Warriors were in support of freedom only so long as it was on their terms. If nothing else, at least The Order laid the bones of their intentions bare for all others to see. While Dragunov may not have been the most uncorrupted of leaders, his general intentions were pure enough. Enough so that he never would have taken an alliance with Lucifer`s Family, even if they did happen to be the enemy of The Order`s enemies. Perhaps Dragunov sought to take matters of the world and of the existence of others to firmly beneath his own paws, but Dagonet was not concerned with this. He was a soldier, and unless Dragunov proved himself to be completely insane or otherwise unworthy, Dagonet would maintain his loyalty. After all, he had gone to The Order seeking a home and a familiar lifestyle, not to embroil himself in the politics of the island. The war had just come with the package. "Alright, Order wolf. Both of us dying won't help either of us. You know another way down?" "There is no other way down," was his flat response, "at least, not if you are asking me fore a safer way down. There is a second trail over there," Dagonet nodded towards it, though it could not be seen through the blizzard, "but it is steep and narrow, extending maybe three feet outwards at its broadest. If we want to get out of this storm we will either have to risk the main trail or find shelter."

[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] The gray male before her shrugged dismissively, a quick flip of his ear saying quite expressively what he thought of her accusations. "We are not all guilty of the crimes of our fellows." The thought had occurred to Idris, when she had been pondering his involvement in the crimes that marred her past, and how deep he was in with The Order. Yes, it was very possible he had had nothing to do with that particular set of murders. It was even possible he had not murdered--not in the way The Order did it, for only their strange ideals. But there lay the rub. Their "ideals." To exterminate weak wolves, to exterminate even the strong, if they could, if they dared to have an opinion on the matter. Her father, apparently, had been weak, the great old wolf who had led her small family through the trials of the years, who only succumbed once he had finally crawled back to their den. Her mother had also been weak, then, the talented huntress, the nurturing figure who had nursed within her the traditions of centuries and instilled them in Idris. And Olwen, of course, must have been weak; Olwen, who could dance in a way that made the trees seem to weep their leaves with happiness, who brought golden light to the already vivid Everfall Fields. If this wolf believed those "ideals," he would always be Enemy. "There is no other way down. At least, not if you are asking me fore a safer way down. There is a second trail over there, but it is steep and narrow, extending maybe three feet outwards at its broadest. If we want to get out of this storm we will either have to risk the main trail or find shelter." The direction he had gestured in was completely invisible in the swirling snow. Idris walked up to him slowly, deliberately, a dark, heavy-shouldered shape emerging into clarity from the surrounding mayhem. She walked until she stood close enough to see and be seen clearly, which was quite close indeed, close enough that either one could have lashed out at the other wolf's face and only have moved a few inches to a foot. She stared, appraising. assessing, musing. Her eyes boldly locked with his and did not relent, remaining fixedly open and penetrating even as half-melted snow dripped and flurried into them. She felt the snow that had melted on her fur freezing in place, limning her dark body with frost and reflecting patches. That was not good. It meant the body heat that had been melting the snow was being overcome by the freezing temperatures outside--and that those temperatures were still dropping. Idris blinked, breaking her trance-like observation of the Order wolf. She sighed and growled at the same time, the former in a puff of steam that was quickly absorbed in the wind and snow, the latter deep in her chest. He was Order. He was the beliefs that were tearing this land apart, and that had left her bereft in her youth. But she was still of the Realm, and she felt her duty on her strong back, weighing her down. She also felt it in her heart, constricting it, rendering it a tangle of furious, conflicted emotion. "Idris verch Rhonwen," she said, bluntly and suddenly. "And I'm going to start looking for shelter. I don't recommend you try the main path." With that, she turned to the side opposite the cliff's edge and began exploring the mountainside for a place to stow away.

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/redwatersmiddle.jpg] Her figure became a dark outline behind flurries of snow, a dark form that shifted and stalked forward. Step by step she became more visible, until she was standing so close that Dagonet couldn’t help but roll his eyes when she stopped with her gaze boring into his own for an extended period of time. When the exaggerated motion was completed he met her gaze, his own sharing none of her intensity, “What? Do you expect me to turn a trick for you?” he finally asked, brow quirking upwards as he voiced the question flatly in a bored, if not hassled fashion, “Or am I supposed to find you imposing? Quit staring, it‘s not lady-like.” Such provocation was generally uncharacteristic of the proud soldier; but staring games had never been among his many fortes, either. They irked him to no end, in fact. Posturing and glaring were only good for so much. Any fool could use them to put on appearances; but not many could turn the tables on him in a fight. It brushed his fur the wrong way to have a female staring him down when he had already made it quite clear that he had no intentions of stirring up a fight. “Idris verch Rhonwen," she said, bluntly and suddenly. "And I'm going to start looking for shelter. I don't recommend you try the main path." “Well you are dramatic, aren’t you? I take it this means you’re willing to tolerate me if it suits your purpose, eh?” Dagonet took a step forward, pacing himself so that she was vaguely visible through the snow, murmuring, “How perfectly typical,” beneath the growing roar of the wind, then resuming his professional composure. Where the mountain had been a relatively pleasant place hours before, that atmosphere had vanished beneath an icy desert. Lashed by the growing tempest, snow hissed almost imperceptibly against the ground. What vague landmarks could be made out through the heavy veil of white began to shift, rendering the formerly familiar landscape into what may as well have been a foreign land. Dagonet could barely make out Idris’ form only a few feet ahead; the storm left him blind to nearly all else. Potential dangers were hidden by the storm, howling winds muted any tell-tale sounds of danger. He could feel the weight of ice building on his fur as frost coated his pelt, forming sharp, stiff spikes where there had formerly been soft fur. Picking up pace, Dagonet leapt forward, landing lightly at Idris’ left side and pushing his shoulder into hers, pushing her to the side, “This way,” he lifted his voice above the wind as he guided her off the main trail. There were more ideal locations to find shelter further down the trail, but no guarantee that they would be able to make it that far; and in the amount of time it would take them to find out, there was no telling what could have happened behind them. Their best chance lay in finding shelter among the rocks scattered along the side of the trail; Dagonet remembered that the stand of boulders had been composed of large boulders that had piled and fallen against one another. All they needed was to put something between themselves and the wind, and the soldier was more than certain they would find that here.

[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] If possible, the male's sneer deepened, contorting his face while never quite reaching his eyes. "Quit staring, it‘s not lady-like." Idris paused, looked back over her shoulder, and glared pointedly, one ear flicking back. "What in uffern makes you think I want to be lady-like?" she snapped back, lifting her voice to a keener pitch that barreled outwards in the screaming winds. She switched her tail and continued picking her way along, going as swiftly as possible while still keeping a wary eye out, and her mind on her footing. The Order wolf was continuing to lecture to her receding back, but she shrugged it off as she had shrugged off the wind--when it was milder. If he preferred to pontificate from his icy perch, that was his choice. His approach was muffled beneath the raging elements, and Idris snapped her head around when she felt him bump into her, digging her claws into the thickening snow and ice for purchase. Her hackles bristled wildly, spikes in the thickening hoarfrost, making her look like a raging boar; she was about to push back when he spoke. “This way.” His body and gaze were pointed down the trail, and she followed it with her own eyes, peering through the miasma. The shapes of some admirably large boulders loomed up out of the fog and icy wind, and she gave the male a different kind of look, though still a hard one. "When redirecting someone you'd normally kill on sight, you might try a less sudden method," she said dryly, and began slowly threading her way towards the largest of the boulders. She slipped a few times, skidded a few times, but kept going, a dogged procession, interjected with brief flurries of movement as she fought with her footing. Her pads were increasingly numb to the harsh surfaces below her, the thin layer of ice on top of thick patches of snow that suddenly gave way, the ice on bare rock, its reflective glint disguised by white powder. Idris stepped down onto a slope of hard-packed earth, and with a grim kind of displeasure felt both front paws suddenly shoot out from under her; she briefly struggled to draw them in, then chose to let herself slide down on her feet, at least, tucking her hind legs under and riding the icy decline down until it deposited her ungently against the boulder she'd been struggling towards. She felt a sharp, deep pain at the impact, but her face remained stoic, her only reaction a grunt. Experimentally, she took a few deep breaths; the biting air stung going down, but her ribs flexed and expanded in a smooth motion. Blinking away ice crystals, the big she-wolf looked up and around. Both she and the male were on the wind-side of the monolithic stone. Its face was a nearly solid-white plane of driven snow, a few black lines showing ledges in the surface. Walking more carefully, she made her way to the lee-side, and was deeply relieved to see that there was hardly any snow there; only a few stray flakes which had gotten caught in cross breezes and were surviving for the duration of the storm's chill. There was another, slightly smaller boulder behind it, and, between them and to one side, against all odds, a crazily leaning pine tree, clinging desperately to the barren rocks, warped from the wind and climes. It was perfect. A few good tugs and the tree would come crashing down, stopped only by the second boulder--as good a roof as they could ask, given the circumstances. She hesitated for a moment, but only a moment, before barking out: "Here!" Then, ribs still sore, body slow from the cold, she gathered her strength, her thick bunches of leg muscle, and leaped, just catching the lowest branch. Her weight swiftly brought her hind legs back to earth, and she braced as best she could, pulling and tugging, the tree giving way bit by bit, creaking in protest at this disgraceful end to its long struggle for life.