Place of Webs
The place
disquieted her just as it had the first time she’d been here, and every visit
in between. Three moon dances ago; she’d been in the company of her brother,
Redwolf, Freecloud, Howler, and Brushwood. It was even more unnerving by
herself, even after all this time.
The place was way to quiet to be a part of Shadow Wood, and yet it was. A pocket of silence and stillness, dotted with varying sizes of cocoons, and sticky webs of some sort just about covering everything. The only image Blackfeather could envision was an eight-legged on a rather huge scale, say the size of a grown wolf or bigger.
Yet no matter how often or when she came, or how still she was during her visits, she still hadn’t managed to catch sight of such creature. Blackfeather knew how canny, as well as reclusive, that the eight-leggeds could be. But something of that size just shouldn’t have been able to stay completely hidden for this long a time.
One thing she’d learned on her first visit was that the cocoons held living creatures. Course a few visits after that had also taught her that one can never be certain what would be inside one. After her first few visits and randomly testing what was within, she hit on leaving them be. The creatures inside those cocoons could mean the life of an elf during a tough White Cold. This place would be able to provide the tribe with food when times were tough. Provided it wasn’t another hunter that was cut open. Blackfeather smiled in wry amusement at a memory of having done just that once herself. It hadn’t been funny… at the time.
Blackfeather was irritated to say the least. Just like the Pool of Dark Magic, she had started visiting this place, trying to learn more about it. Also, like the Dark Pool, it sat too close to the Holt for Blackfeather’s peace of mind. Just like the rest of her tribe, she had been caught unaware of the monster creature that had lurked within Shadow Wood until it attacked the Holt.
She didn’t plan to let that happen again. Unlike Windy, who seemed to think that hiding and avoiding things would make the world ignore the Wolfriders, or so it appeared to Blackfeather. He was her Chief though, and she’d never nay-say a decision of his, in front of the tribe like Firebloom had done at Council not too long ago. No it wasn’t Blackfeather’s way. Her opinions on Windy were her own, and his if she cared to share them with him at the time. But just because she’d not say something out loud when she disagreed, didn’t mean she’d always do as he wanted. He was still young and new to the Chieftainship after all.
She snorted when she thought about how a not-quite-grown-cub was Chief of the Wolfriders. In another two turns he would be an adult. Maybe then those who still viewed him as a cub now would treat him as an adult. Blackfeather shook her head, but then again, maybe not. Far as she was concerned, he became an adult when the Chief’s-Lock was tied in his hair, no matter how many turns he was at the time. He just needed guidance and wisdom to help him now and again in his new status, until he gained some of his own.
Blackfeather sighed and eyed a nearby cocoon, drawing herself out of the turn her thoughts had taken though she was still irritated over the non-appearance of the resident web spinner. As big as the creature had to be, in her opinion, it shouldn’t be able to hide so easily. It had to be another creature along the lines of the monster that attacked the Holt, only more canny and intelligent it seemed. She couldn’t so far even find a sign of where it ate, or hunted, or anything.
Still eyeing the cocoon, she decided to play her new game, Guess What’s Inside, she studied it thoughtfully. It looked to be about the size of a half grown wolf in height, and half that in width, and nearly that in length. She thought on that a bit, and decided that if a half grown wolf were curled up asleep, and then had a huge eight-legged come along and wrap it up in webbing, it would probably be about the size of the cocoon she studied.
She gave a nod at her thoughts. Maybe one of the pack had wandered too far and got caught here. Pulling out her knife and going over to the cocoon, she began to cut it open carefully so as not cut the occupant within. She wasn’t too surprised to not find a half grown wolf inside, but one of the tufted eared cats instead.
The tufted eared woke spitting and yowling, which was odd. Normally the creatures cut free were dazed and groggy. Blackfeather quickly darted up the closest tree. Unfortunately, the cat saw her, and evidently, decided she was to blame for whatever had it so mad. Like skyfire, it followed her up the tree; she bolted for all she was worth. Through the trees, on the ground, back through the trees, it didn’t matter, that cat stuck to Blackfeather’s trail as if it had a vine tied around its neck dragging it along.
It wasn’t until she was long since in the forest proper and nearly back at the Holt, that she realized the tufted eared no longer followed. Figuring it had found easier prey; Blackfeather stopped and caught her breath. Since she was almost home, she decided she was done with the Place of Webs for that day. As she finished the trek to the Holt, she also made the decision not to cut open anymore cocoons in that place, least not without a pack of Hunters standing ready.
Shaking herself out of the memory, she looks around her. Still seeing nothing of the maker of the webs near, she sighed in disgust. By this time she’d been over every bit of the place, almost. This was the last area for her to explore. If she didn’t find a den of some sort soon, she would be at a loss on where to look next for the creature. So far it had stayed away from the Holt. Blackfeather, though, wasn’t counting on that to be forever, she wanted to find this creature and neutralize it.
Idly, she wondered if she’d really have to kill it in the end. The elusive creature obviously caught more then it could eat, she never did come across any eaten corpses when she had cut open cocoons. If the creature actually posed no threat to elf, wolf, or Holt, then the tribe would never have to feel the gnaw of lean times again. She shook her head at her thoughts and continued her search for a den.
Several hours later, she had finished canvassing the last section of woods, and found nothing. Frustrated and disgusted, she leaves, finished with the place for the day. Hopefully Hollythorne would be back from her quest any day now, and maybe with her help, they’d be able to finally crack the secrets of that place. Blackfeather sure wasn’t getting anywhere on her own.
The place was way to quiet to be a part of Shadow Wood, and yet it was. A pocket of silence and stillness, dotted with varying sizes of cocoons, and sticky webs of some sort just about covering everything. The only image Blackfeather could envision was an eight-legged on a rather huge scale, say the size of a grown wolf or bigger.
Yet no matter how often or when she came, or how still she was during her visits, she still hadn’t managed to catch sight of such creature. Blackfeather knew how canny, as well as reclusive, that the eight-leggeds could be. But something of that size just shouldn’t have been able to stay completely hidden for this long a time.
One thing she’d learned on her first visit was that the cocoons held living creatures. Course a few visits after that had also taught her that one can never be certain what would be inside one. After her first few visits and randomly testing what was within, she hit on leaving them be. The creatures inside those cocoons could mean the life of an elf during a tough White Cold. This place would be able to provide the tribe with food when times were tough. Provided it wasn’t another hunter that was cut open. Blackfeather smiled in wry amusement at a memory of having done just that once herself. It hadn’t been funny… at the time.
Blackfeather was irritated to say the least. Just like the Pool of Dark Magic, she had started visiting this place, trying to learn more about it. Also, like the Dark Pool, it sat too close to the Holt for Blackfeather’s peace of mind. Just like the rest of her tribe, she had been caught unaware of the monster creature that had lurked within Shadow Wood until it attacked the Holt.
She didn’t plan to let that happen again. Unlike Windy, who seemed to think that hiding and avoiding things would make the world ignore the Wolfriders, or so it appeared to Blackfeather. He was her Chief though, and she’d never nay-say a decision of his, in front of the tribe like Firebloom had done at Council not too long ago. No it wasn’t Blackfeather’s way. Her opinions on Windy were her own, and his if she cared to share them with him at the time. But just because she’d not say something out loud when she disagreed, didn’t mean she’d always do as he wanted. He was still young and new to the Chieftainship after all.
She snorted when she thought about how a not-quite-grown-cub was Chief of the Wolfriders. In another two turns he would be an adult. Maybe then those who still viewed him as a cub now would treat him as an adult. Blackfeather shook her head, but then again, maybe not. Far as she was concerned, he became an adult when the Chief’s-Lock was tied in his hair, no matter how many turns he was at the time. He just needed guidance and wisdom to help him now and again in his new status, until he gained some of his own.
Blackfeather sighed and eyed a nearby cocoon, drawing herself out of the turn her thoughts had taken though she was still irritated over the non-appearance of the resident web spinner. As big as the creature had to be, in her opinion, it shouldn’t be able to hide so easily. It had to be another creature along the lines of the monster that attacked the Holt, only more canny and intelligent it seemed. She couldn’t so far even find a sign of where it ate, or hunted, or anything.
Still eyeing the cocoon, she decided to play her new game, Guess What’s Inside, she studied it thoughtfully. It looked to be about the size of a half grown wolf in height, and half that in width, and nearly that in length. She thought on that a bit, and decided that if a half grown wolf were curled up asleep, and then had a huge eight-legged come along and wrap it up in webbing, it would probably be about the size of the cocoon she studied.
She gave a nod at her thoughts. Maybe one of the pack had wandered too far and got caught here. Pulling out her knife and going over to the cocoon, she began to cut it open carefully so as not cut the occupant within. She wasn’t too surprised to not find a half grown wolf inside, but one of the tufted eared cats instead.
The tufted eared woke spitting and yowling, which was odd. Normally the creatures cut free were dazed and groggy. Blackfeather quickly darted up the closest tree. Unfortunately, the cat saw her, and evidently, decided she was to blame for whatever had it so mad. Like skyfire, it followed her up the tree; she bolted for all she was worth. Through the trees, on the ground, back through the trees, it didn’t matter, that cat stuck to Blackfeather’s trail as if it had a vine tied around its neck dragging it along.
It wasn’t until she was long since in the forest proper and nearly back at the Holt, that she realized the tufted eared no longer followed. Figuring it had found easier prey; Blackfeather stopped and caught her breath. Since she was almost home, she decided she was done with the Place of Webs for that day. As she finished the trek to the Holt, she also made the decision not to cut open anymore cocoons in that place, least not without a pack of Hunters standing ready.
Shaking herself out of the memory, she looks around her. Still seeing nothing of the maker of the webs near, she sighed in disgust. By this time she’d been over every bit of the place, almost. This was the last area for her to explore. If she didn’t find a den of some sort soon, she would be at a loss on where to look next for the creature. So far it had stayed away from the Holt. Blackfeather, though, wasn’t counting on that to be forever, she wanted to find this creature and neutralize it.
Idly, she wondered if she’d really have to kill it in the end. The elusive creature obviously caught more then it could eat, she never did come across any eaten corpses when she had cut open cocoons. If the creature actually posed no threat to elf, wolf, or Holt, then the tribe would never have to feel the gnaw of lean times again. She shook her head at her thoughts and continued her search for a den.
Several hours later, she had finished canvassing the last section of woods, and found nothing. Frustrated and disgusted, she leaves, finished with the place for the day. Hopefully Hollythorne would be back from her quest any day now, and maybe with her help, they’d be able to finally crack the secrets of that place. Blackfeather sure wasn’t getting anywhere on her own.